#sorry for the lack of asks lately btw!!

[waldau-archived]

Saw your are open for requests, since you write wonwoo soooo soooo well, maybe a little drabble or headcanon about reader and wonwoo first time sleeping (not having sex, just purely fluff cuddle and sleep) together would be good in this rainy season here in my tropical country.

Btw SEATED for the longer fics😁

cuddles — jeon wonwoo | 1,450 words | fluff

TROPICAL COUNTRY ANON MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES I STILL HOPE IT'S RAINING WHERE YOU ARE. i love the rains and i'm sorry i didn't get inspired in time to write something that i like, but i really hope you see this!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is a bit unsettled by the sound of thunder (not actually self-projection for once).

“do you have to go?” wonwoo asks as you search for the remote to pause the movie, credits rolling on the screen.

you stare at him, trying to come up with a response. more specifically, you’re wondering if he’s implying what you think he’s implying. “i mean…isn’t it late? and don’t i always leave around this time?”

“you do,” he says, leaning over you to take out the remote that’s wedged between two cushions, and you swear your heart skips a beat. “but you could change that.”

“are you…asking…”

“it’s raining, too,” he says, a hopeful smile on his face. “if you really want to leave, i can drop you home, but i think i’d really like it if you…stayed.”

and that’s how you find yourself by wonwoo’s side in his bathroom, holding a spare toothbrush he handed you as he brushes his teeth. you’re vaguely aware that toothpaste is dripping down your brush and onto your hand as you watch him through the mirror, while also considering the fact that is way too domestic to be doing with someone you’ve been dating for two months.

but you can’t stop thinking about how…soft he looks. his hair is wept back from his forehead, no longer neatly styled like it had been earlier in the day, but still making him look very handsome. he’s wearing an oversized hoodie with sweatpants. you can’t help but wonder what you’ll look like, wearing it.

the thought immediately flusters you so much that you look anywhere but at him, and yet you can see him glance at you through the mirror now.

“want to tell me what you were thinking about?”

you refuse to grace his question with an answer and hurry up with your routine, skin feeling a bit cooler when you’re done washing your face. you pat it dry with the towel wonwoo’s given you, and when you turn around, there’s a shirt and a pair of sweatpants sitting on the counter.

even though it’s just basic decency, making sure you don’t go to sleep in your jeans tonight, it’s still thrilling to see his clothes being perfectly oversized on you. you step out of the bathroom a bit nervously, not having heard any sound from him in the past minute. but wonwoo’s lying on the bed, looking at his phone. when he sees you, there’s a smile on his face. he rolls to his side and watches you shut the door and come over to where he’s resting.

“what is it?” you ask, a little self-conscious. you’re not yet used to the — for lack of a better word — adoring gazes he gives you whenever he sees you. he’s verbal with his affection, too, always letting you know how good he thinks you look, or how happy he is that you’re spending your time with him, but he’s even better with his actions. which is what makes you think this is one of those moments.

“nothing,” he says, putting his phone on the stand.

“then why were you looking at me like that?” you ask, sitting down on the bed and swinging your legs over so that you’re comfortably settled.

“you just…you look really good in my clothes.”

it takes everything in you not to turn and hide your face in the pillow at that. you’re still not used to how blunt he is, and how he means every word he says to you. you’d known this about him before you started dating him, but now that you’re actually dating him, you’re getting to see a side of him you didn’t know existed.

“yeah? maybe i should wear your hoodie, then,” you tease instead.

“i hope you do,” he says, putting his glasses away and getting under the covers, motioning for you to do the same. you swear your brain has short-circuited as you get underneath the covers as well. his covers are as warm as the ones you have at home, and you remember he mentioned he runs cold. same as you, then.

you lie there for a minute or two, getting used to each other’s proximity, before wonwoo speaks up.

“tell me if this is okay,” he says, before inching closer and resting a large hand on your stomach. you can feel your breath catch as his hand inches its way around your waist and pulls you a bit closer. “sweetheart?”

“mhm? i’m fine.” you are fine, but your poor heart isn’t.

“good. i don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to.”

as much as you appreciate how respectful he’s being, part of you wishes he was a bit less cautious. you’re okay with him. you trust him, and he knows it.

“i’m not made of glass, wonwoo,” you say, looking up at him from where you’re resting.

wonwoo takes in a breath and then pulls you into himself, letting your head rest on his chest. it’s only then that you realize his heart is beating fast, probably as fast as yours.

“wonwoo?”

“mm?”

“are you nervous right now?”

“how couldn’t i be? i have such a pretty person in my arms.”

you actually gasp and smack his chest at that. he only laughs — that deep, rumble-like laugh that made you like him so much. “aren’t we supposed to be sleeping? trying to, at least?”

“i’m finding it hard to sleep with you here.”

“…oh,” you say, happiness deflating a bit. “see, i told you—”

“no!” he exclaims, scrambling away enough to look you in the eyes. “i meant— i want to keep talking to you, but i also want to sleep, and it’s unlucky that we can’t do both at the same time.”

your heart flutters at that. “that’s…i wish we could do that, too.”

“good,” he says, settling back down. “then that’s what we’re going to do.” he adjusts the covers so that you’re resting comfortably. you do want to keep the conversation going, but wonwoo is perfectly warm, and the rain outside sounds like pleasant white noise that is lulling you deeper into tiredness.

“do you like the rain?” you ask, hand resting on his chest, gently tracing abstract patterns. like the ones you doodle when you’re on phone calls with him.

when he doesn’t reply for a while, you think you’ve spoken too softly, but then you feel the rumble in his chest as he speaks. “i do. i love how green it gets outside. and i love how it smells, too.”

you want to say the same, but a sudden boom of thunder makes you freeze and grip his hoodie rather tightly.

“sweetheart?” wonwoo asks instantly, concern palpable in his voice. “are you okay?”

“it’s nothing,” you say, but even you know it’s a lie when you don’t let go of the death grip you have on his hoodie.

it’s not even lightning. it’s somewhat of a stupid thing to be afraid of, yet you can’t help but feel helpless when the thunder booms again, louder than it did the first time.

“is it…the thunder? the sound of it? i promise i won’t judge you, sweetheart.”

you sigh. “it’s just…i’m not very fond of thunder. i don’t like how loud it gets. i’m not scared, really, i just don’t like the way it…”

“startles you?”

you nod, not wanting to look at him. you wonder what he’s thinking.

“that’s perfectly fine,” wonwoo says, voice soft as he pulls you closer into himself till his arms engulf your upper body and you’re surrounded only by him and his calm breathing, his warmth that’s currently your anchor. “i used to be scared of dogs because i got bitten once. but i’ve got seol now. you’ve seen her, haven’t you?”

you have. wonwoo’s shown you pictures of his dog back home, and she’s the most adorable thing you’ve seen.

“you’re not any weaker for not liking thunderstorms, you know. everyone has their thing. don’t worry about it when you’re with me. i can’t make it go away, but i can make sure you’re not too scared, okay?”

“are you always this romantic?”

you can feel more than hear wonwoo’s chuckle as it rumbles through his chest. you’ve never felt as safe as you do now, in a thunderstorm. you burrow yourself more into his hold, loving how his arm comes to wrap around your waist.

“sleep well,” he says.

“i—” love you, you want to say, but the words catch in your throat. you mean them with your entirety, even if they might be a bit premature. “you too. i’m so glad i’m here,” you say instead, leaning up to peck his cheek.

wonwoo kisses your head, arm tightening around you. “i’m so glad you’re here, too.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched

@minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[unlosts]

hi !!

i'm pretty sure it was me w the perfume request! (my brain is so scattered i barely remember what i asked for but!! i'm so so excited to read it when you're done <33) (btw i'm loving the spencer fics and i'm psyched for more, your writing is so beautiful 🥹🫶🏼)

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! It was exactly the one I lost. Hope you like it, I had a lot of fun with it 🫶🏼.

Also no one asked but I'm a firm believer that Hotch is a Grey Vetiver by Tom Ford guy, or he should be!

At exactly 9:18 the sound of the elevator opening interrupts the quiet morning, Aaron Hochner walks out heading briskly towards his office, coat over his shoulders and briefcase in hand, nodding in greeting to the rest of the team who collectively turn to stare at him with various degrees of confusion plastered on their faces. 

“I was about to call a S.W.A.T team,” Says Emily, stopping him in his tracks “again.” 

At that Hotch finally turns to face them, his usually pristine white shirt wrinkled like he had picked it off the floor that morning. 

“Excuse he?” He asks, brow arched. 

Derek lets out a laugh at this, languidly spinning his chair from side to side but before he can say anything JJ, ever the mediator, interrupts “You’re just not usually this late, we were starting to worry.”

“Yeah, cuz y’know you have a bad track record” Says Penelope with a grimace, she’s perched by Morgan's desk toying with a feathery pink pen while she talks.  

“They were worried, I just knew you were maybe having some fun for once” Derek chimes in with a smile, letting out a huff when Pen pokes his side with her pen. 

“There’s no need to make a scene out of it, I’m sure I've been late plenty of times before” He tries to say in a stern enough tone that they’ll hopefully drop the subject. 

It would be easy to classify it as merely teasing but Hotch knew the entire team worried about him, namely about his lack of a social life outside of work. And usually he would entertain their banter for longer but he really is late today and he can already feel the beginning of a headache forming. 

“Actually," Spencer adds without looking up from his paper“this year, you were only late three times, the last one being about two and a half months ago on July when you had a flat tire and had to wait for triple A”.

“Thank you for that, Spencer” Hotch says, shooting him a look.

“No problem”   

“Nothing happened, I just got stuck in a bad pile up on my way there and I was already cutting it close beforehand, so if you all could focus back on your files that would be great, we have to present our consults before 5 today” He says trying, and failing to regain a modicum of authority. 

Just when he thought that they had tired themselves out, the elevator opens up again and you spill out of it, carrying with you the floral scent of your perfume and a dazzling smile that spells nothing but trouble for him. The kind that makes him stay up until 2am in the middle of the week and turns what was meant to be a quick shower into a half hour delay. 

“Hello hello, sorry for being so late, there was a bad bad pile up on my way here” You speak without pausing once for breath, your heels click clacking on your way to your desk where you unceremoniously dump your coat and purse on top of your desk. Heading for the kitchen to brew a new pot of coffee. 

On your way there you playfully ruffle Spencer’s hair and wink at Pen, who can’t help but comment on your good mood “Well aren’t you happy this morning missy” 

You make eye contact with him for a split second and Hotch can feel his throat dry up, he always felt like you breathed life into any room you walked in, the sun patterns following your steps whenever you went. So it makes sense that even now in the middle of fall he feels something warm settle over him even with such a brief look. 

He thinks he’s been staring at you for hours when it couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds, by the time he snaps out of it he finds Emily regarding him with a quizzical eye and a smile that does nothing for his brewing headache. 

“Well, I’ve just been having a very nice week” You reply pointedly “even went and got myself a new perfume” He did, actually, but it’s not like you can say that. 

Seeing an out in the conversation he starts once more to go towards his office before he’s interrupted, once again, by one Emily Prentiss. 

“Huh” She says, pinning him down with a perfectly arched eyebrow

“What?” He asks exasperated, quickly losing his patience. 

“Aren’t you testy today?” She teases “I was just thinking about the fact that you both got stuck in traffic, despite coming from opposite sides of the city, that’s all” And with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders that’s anything but, she turns to work on her files. 

You pop out of the kitchen carrying with you two expertly done mugs of coffee, and even better timing, hastily sitting by Emily’s desk and leaving one mug in front of her. 

“I was hoping you could look over one of my cases with me? I’ve been stuck for ages and I could use a fresh set of eyes?” 

“So this is bribery coffee?”

“No, the bribe is the very nice bottle of red I have back at my place that’s all yours next girls night, the coffee is just because I’m a delight to be around” You reply grinning at her. 

Emily huffs a laugh and with everyone distracted Hotch finally makes his escape, shutting his office door and basking in the blissful quiet of his office. 

He spends the next hour and a half failing to fill expense reports, his mind wandering to your hair splayed on the pillows this morning; you staring up at him in the shower, a droplet of water running from the bridge of your nose to rest on your lip being kissed away by him. The exact dazzling smile from this morning but all his to keep.

The lost twenty minutes after dressing he spend with you pressed against the entrance door, your hands running over his back.  

With an hour left to go before lunch and a creek in his neck from leaning his head on his palm all morning he gives up and goes to get himself his second coffee of the day.

In the kitchenette right by the vending machine is his headache personified, getting herself a bag of skittles. 

While he makes his coffee Emily pauses next to him and extends the bag of candy in a silent offer that he declines with a shake of his head, right before leaving she says “I do love the new cologne, very summery fresh, but just a heads up, I do think she wears it better than you” 

[t0yac1d]

Attention (C.Grimes x Fem!Reader)

Request: hi! I had a request in mind with Carl grimes where like the f! reader is being a brat because they haven’t had sex in a while and she’s starting to become really pent up so she starts acting up and stuff and Carl yk deals with her. And it involves stuff like degradation, oral(f receiving), overstimulation. And then include some aftercare afterwards where he’s all like lovey dovey and shit.

Btw no worries if you can’t write this anytime soon! 🫶🏻

Word Count: 2,017

Warnings: Smut, bratty/mean!Reader, jealous/mean!Carl, some degrading but lots of mean!Carl, biting, teasing, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, aftercare

Notes: Idk loves, I think I like having mean!Carl around. Also, I am so fucking sorry for getting this out extremely late, it won't happen again!

You've never been one to act out. Never been one to be impatient over something so small. Never been one to cause a problem that could've very easily been solved if talked about. But as they say, there's always, always, always, a first for everything.

It's been a little while since you and Carl have done anything intimate. Whether it had been holding hands, cuddling, kissing, or even just sex. You're aware of the huge ongoing and dangerous situation that's going on. The world has gone to shit, and it has been like that for years. So, you know that you can't always live that perfect and peaceful life you dreamed. But you just missed your boy's touch, his smell and presence so much that it started to get to you.

You lacked attention from him, he'd give you a glance and a smile when he could but other than that, you've been sleeping in an empty and cold bed.

It started a couple of weeks ago, your tone and mood shifted whenever you spoke to him. You acted colder to him than to anyone else. He had wondered if he did something to upset his girl, but before he had the chance to ask his dad called him over for help, and since then he had forgotten about it.

You then started getting a little too touchy with some of the guys, especially Ron. That made Carl feel something within, something he hasn't felt before. You've always talked to Ron, you guys were pretty close, but for some reason he felt as if right at that moment there was something else happening that wasn't friend-like.

You've tried almost every way to get Carl to react to you, including flirting with Ron to see if he'd grab you and take you to his room so you could finally feel his touch after so long. But it all failed. You were so close to giving up when you got an idea that wasn't exactly the best.

But if it gave you the possibility to be touched in anyway by your boyfriend, you'd take it.

Carl was in his room, getting dressed to go out on a run. This was your chance to:

A. Have a peaceful conversation and talk to him

Or

B. Make him feel what he unintentionally made you feel

You made sure to wear the hottest and sluttiest outfit you owned. A very short and tight shirt that showed a beautiful amount of cleavage and the miniest skirt you had in your wardrobe. But it was perfect for the weather, as it was a heat wave. So, in your defense, it was the only outfit that kept you cool in this heat!

Before you walked in the room you gave a knock on the door and announced it was you. When you got the green light to come in, you opened the door and closed it behind you.

You made your way to his full body mirror, not saying a word to him as you fixed your hair, face, and just checked yourself out while checking him out in the mirror at the same time.

"What? No 'Hi'?" he joked, walking to you, and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him.

If you weren't so upset with how he treated you these past couple of weeks, you would've leaned into his touch and sighed with content, inhaled his scent and enjoy his presence while you had him.

But you kept your composure. You stood your ground and resisted the feeling.

"Hi, Carl." you muttered, focusing on your figure more than his, you knew if you continued to glance his way you'd pounce on him.

"Hi baby," he smiled, leaning in to give your cheek a kiss. When he did you wiped it off with the back of your hand and sighed, "Don't do that, you'll ruin the blush."

Carl's face twisted in confusion, you've never cared when he kissed your face before, whether there was makeup or not. "Sorry," he apologized.

"Sure, how do I look?" you questioned, crossing your arms, making your tits push together and almost spill out of your tiny top. "Beautiful as always. Are you coming with me?" he asked. "No, I'm heading to Ron's."

Carl felt a pang in his heart and gut.

"Why?" he asked, curiosity taking over him.

"To be fucked and stuffed my love." you smiled.

You didn't even get the chance to walk to the door when Carl hooked two of fingers around the belt loop of your shorts and pulled you towards him, your back hitting his chest.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"What?" you asked, tilting your head.

"I must've heard your pretty mouth wrong. Why are you going to Ron's?"

"To be fucked and stuffed." You repeated, looking up at him, "Don't you have somewhere important to be? Like leaving me again for the fourth week in the row?"

The cogs in Carl's head turned and a lightbulb went off, "You're acting like this because I've been busy?"

"No, I'm acting like this because I'm practically in a relationship by myself."

"So, you dress like a whore and tell me you're going to get fucked by your friend? You're funny." he chuckled, turning you so your body would face him.

"I'm not joking. If you won't fuck me, I'll just go to someone who will. Someone who I know would fuck me better than-"

Carl grabbed your jaw and forced you to shut your mouth, "What was that? I couldn't hear you; can you say that again for me?"

You whimpered, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"Get on the bed and lay on your back." he said as he let go of your face.

"And if I don't?" you teased, your lips getting closer to his, ghosting over them. "Get the fuck on the bed, bitch."

You giggled and lied down on the bed, he wished he could be mad at you for saying those things. But he can't. He just can't.

You look too beautiful and dreamy with the way you were splayed out on his bed.

"This is funny to you sweetheart?" he asked, hovering over you, kissing your neck and leaving bite marks over the skin. "Just a little," you sighed.

Carl hummed and made his way down to your shorts. He unbuttoned them and pulled them down. He kissed the inside of your thigh and softly bit them.

You were soaked, you just knew there was a wet patch on the middle of your panties from how desperate you were for Carl. He looked up at the wet spot and smirked, "I haven't even started yet, and you're already soaked."

"Not for you, that's for sure." you said, crossing your arms. "Not for me?" he asked.

"No. Not for you."

He hummed at your response and his fingers grazed against your clothed cunt. Your body shivered at his touch, and you sucked in a breath.

He toyed with your clit through your panties and lightly touched it.

He slid your panties to the side and teased your aching, begging, wet hole with a finger.

He moved his hand back and got off of the bed. "What are you doing?" you asked, "Well, you're not wet for me, right? You're wet for him."

"You can go to him to cum." he smiled.

Well, this didn't go as planned. He was supposed to deal with you, but he's just, leaving?

"So, you're leaving your girlfriend here?" you asked, "No, I'm leaving a brat here. Tell my girlfriend I'll be back."

"Your girlfriend is gonna be fucking another guy on your bed." you mumbled, Carl scoffed and turned back to you. He spread your legs and pulled your panties off of your body.

He pushed your legs up to your chest and dipped head low.

You felt his tongue lick and lap at your folds and juices. Drinking you and tasting your essence. You were so horny and pent up from the lack of sex that you didn't need much to cum. His tongue alone was doing the job.

Your whines and moans grew louder and louder, you were so close to cumming on his tongue. Your mind was foggy and empty, the only thing in that head of yours was that you got what you've been missing.

Your moans began to break as you felt yourself about to cum, that's when you felt Carl's tongue leave from between your legs.

"Apologize." he said, "W-What," you stuttered, "Apologize for the things you said."

"Um, I'm s-sorry,"

"Say it like you mean it."

He pushed his knee close to your pussy, the friction making your toes curl.

"I do mean it!" you cried out,

Carl didn't really believe you; he didn't believe you meant it but that's fine. He'll just get it out of you.

He spread your legs once more and dipped his head between your thighs and kept your legs on his shoulders. He shoved two fingers and his tongue in your hole and curled them.

You came all over his tongue and fingers, panting and wiping sweat off of your forehead.

You thought that was all until Carl cleaned his fingers and dove back in. Your hand flew to his head, you were so sensitive right now. You were always sensitive after you came, and Carl knew that he also wanted to take advantage of that.

Again, it didn't take much for you to cum, but each time you did he would just go back in. He wouldn't give you a break and you started to feel tears fall down your face from the stimulation.

"Apologize and this will be the last one. If I don't believe you, we'll just keep going."

He's been repeating that over and over and over again. You've apologized more than you can count on both hands.

"I didn't mean it! I didn't mean when I said I was going to fuck Ron! I-I didn't mean it when I said he was better!" your whines broke your sentence up so much, you sounded so pretty, and looked so slutty.

So messy.

Your hair clung to your skin, your mascara ran down your face and you were shining with a coat of sweat. Your skin was hot, and your cheeks were flushed. You were a mess. And it was all because of him.

You felt Carl smile and he made you cum one last time before kissing up your sweaty legs, stomach, chest, neck and face. "You want anything? Water or a snack?" he asked, "Water.." you said, your voice not even above a whisper.

Carl left his room to grab a cup of water and some snacks. He gave you the water as he went to run a cool bath for you. He came back to his room and picked you up bridal style. "Can't wait to carry you up like this through the threshold." he chuckled sweetly.

He sat you down on the tub and helped you take your shirt off and wiped your makeup off for you.

"Get in, let me clean you." he softly spoke. His tone was different from before, guess he just matched the energy you were giving him before.

You sat in the tub as Carl lathered your body in soap and cleaned you off. He was so sweet to you. He wouldn't hurt you, not on accident, never on purpose. "I'm sorry for the way I acted." you spoke up, breaking the silence.

"It's okay love. You were just upset that I haven't been treating you like my girlfriend and I understand that. But say shit like fucking Ron again and I'm beating him and fucking you like a whore."

You smiled and giggled at his words, "You'd like that," he said, shaking his head, "I would."

"Freak." he joked.

It was times like these that made you remember that he in fact did love you. Even when you acted out and got moody, he still loved you and cared for you deeply.

[ohdeerfully]

Can I request Alastor baking or cooking for reader? Maybe making one of his old mother recipes for reader while he wears a silly apron or something? I'm loving all of your one shots!

☀️ anon

short but sweet!! i made it a human al story, hope thats cool! i really enjoyed writing this one but now i want cookies (,:

btw tumblr is really lacking with human alastor gifs so sorry guys

Sweet Treat

Human!Alastor x Reader (fluff)

TW: reader is implied female but pronouns arent used/doesnt effect story much. other than that none!

join my discord!

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Alastor was always aware of your wants and desires as if the glasses he wore helped him read directly into your mind. You were tired? Okay, the bedsheets were freshly dry and warm. You were hungry? He already had a pot of aromatic food cooking in your kitchen. Thirsty? Here’s some ice water. Headache? Oh, here’s a remedy that he learned from a traditional healer in the city. 

You get the idea.

You had come home from a long day of work at the speakeasy you performed in, a hankering for something sweet filling your mind as your mouth watered at the idea of sugary goodness. You fiddled with your keys for a little, eyes slightly bleared from both a mixing of light alcohol consumption and just general sleepiness. No, those are your work keys… no, that’s to your office… Finally, you grasped your manicured fingers over the correct silver key and jittered it into the hole.

You slumped your body against the door dramatically as you pushed it open, a loud sigh escaping your lips to announce you were home. You knew Alastor was already home, seeing as his shoes were tucked neatly in the nearby rack and jacket hung up against the wall. Usually Alastor would join you when you were at work late, both to watch you perform and to walk you home, but he had been caught up with his own work and likely got home not long before you. A light smile dusted your face as you recalled how desperately sorry he sounded when he phoned you a few hours ago—it was sweet. 

Your own heels were unceremoniously kicked off in the general direction of the shoe rack—you’d fix them up later. Right now, you were mostly focused on the sound of a spoon scraping against a bowl as Alastor was doubtlessly stirring something. Your interest was piqued, and your stomach growled at the idea of food.

“Ah, you’re home a bit early,” He said as you rounded the corner, your gaze immediately fixating on the mixing bowl propped against the junction of his elbow as he stirred with his other hand. There was a plume of flour resting against the left rim of his glasses. “A bit too early for my surprise.” 

Your eyes then traveled down to the apron he wore, a black one that had a silhouette of a deer and text that read “best buckin’ cook.” You had gotten it for him as a joke for your anniversary due to his fondness for hunting and deer.

“Yeah, Ms. Ruby let me off early if I performed a couple songs in a row,” There was an eye roll as you said this. You pursed your lips as you approached him, gingerly taking his glasses off to clean the mess from the glass. His eyes held a slight squint as he looked at you, slightly unfocused without his aides. “I’m guessin’ you knew I’d want something sweet, then?”

A smirk crossed his lips as if you asked the most obvious question in the world. Which, considering how he always knew what you wanted, it kind of was the most obvious question in the world.

“What kind of suitor would I be if I didn’t know what my darling desires?” He leaned a little closer as he spoke, halting the stirring motion. His voice had dropped to a teasing husk, and your ears tingled at the hint of that Cajun accent you loved so much. It didn’t help that you were just a tad loopy with alcohol.

“And I love you for that,” You said, trying to ignore the heat in your face. You pressed the glasses back against his face, using your finger to push them up the bridge of his nose whilst simultaneously gently moving his face away from your own. “As soon as I wanted a treat I knew I’d come home to one.”

“It also helps that you always want one when you work late, love,” He mused, turning away and walking back to the counter that had a splay of ingredients. There was also a mess of flour—likely from the same incident that dirtied his glasses—but you bit back a comment. You knew he’d clean it up after.

With a hop you had sat yourself on a tall chair next to the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the cold granite top as you watched him work on mixing in the rest of the ingredients. He seemed a little nervous now that you were watching him, his stirring a bit stiff and measuring a little overanalyzed, but he kept working nonetheless.

The oven chimed when the preheating was done, and at that point Alastor was already in the process of portioning out little balls of dough. A proud smile donned his face.

“I think this is the fastest I’ve gotten to this point,” He claimed, not looking up from the task in front of him. You loved the way his brown hair fell in neat, light curls over his eyes. His glasses had begun to slip slightly down his nose, but he quickly pushed them back with a knuckle. “I nearly beat the timer.”

With an absent nod and quiet ‘congrats’ you eyed the nearly empty bowl and the discarded rubber spatula that sat nearby with velvety, doughy sweetness still clinging on the edges. You slowly raised your hand and inched towards it.

A hand snatched it up at the last second, and you slumped backwards in the chair with a defeated whine. Alastor waved it at you with a teasing grin. 

“So greedy,” He chided, although he did so unseriously. “I can’t believe you would spoil the taste before I even finished baking them… after I worked so hard…” There was a fake pout in his voice as his lips turned down, one hand on a hip and leaned against the counter behind him. You rolled your eyes in response and folded your arms.

“You know it never even tastes the same when it bakes,” You pursed your lips as you looked away from him towards the oven. You could see the faint silhouette of the cookies he had put in just a minute ago, now slowly flattening. “C’mon… Just a sample… please?” You drew out your plea, pressing your face between your hands as you tried your best to look at him with wide cutesy eyes.

It didn’t seem to work on him in the slightest, as he only looked down on you with a raised eyebrow. There was, though, a soft change in his brown eyes as his gaze swept over your face, though you were sure it had nothing to do with your current charming tactics. He was just, in all ways you can imagine, insanely devoted to you—he would tell you, very rarely as he had trouble expressing tender words, how he found you to be the most beautiful being he had ever been lucky enough to see. 

As corny as it felt if you thought about it too hard, you actually believed him when he said he would kill for you. It was something many men would exaggerate when courting, and they never truly meant it, but there was a glimmer of crazed obsession in his eyes when he had told you it one time. A look you had no choice but to take seriously—you tried not to think about it too much.

He sighed dramatically as he threw out his hand to bestow upon you… the spatula. You took it with a pleased grin and put a corner in your mouth to taste the dough. You could almost see the sparkles dancing around you as the light sweetness touched your tongue. You could see Alastor’s proud grin out of the corner of your eye but you chose not to meet his gaze and inflate his ego even more.

The two of you chatted idly about your respective days for ten or so minutes as you waited for the cookies to bake. You always had something to complain about considering the nature of your job—it was always either some drunk bonehead interrupting your show, or some drama between the other performers, or some hatred towards your employers… always something, and he always listened, equally attentive every time no matter how repetitive it was. He, on the other hand, never had much to say about his work. He was just a radio host, after all.

The little white timer finally went off, and Alastor cracked open the oven door to peek. He seemed satisfied enough with the result as he quickly removed them, gripping the pan with a small towel and carefully setting it down against the stove-top. The room was immediately filled with the warm, sweet aroma of fresh baked cookies. 

Just a few more minutes of waiting, but you could barely contain yourself when the cookies had finally cooled a bit and firmed up outside of the oven. When Alastor presented one to you it took all your self control not to just straight up bite it out of his hand. 

The cookie had a crisp, golden outside that gave way with a light crunch when you bit into it. The inside was soft and fluffy with a taste of vanilla and chocolate. You sighed loudly in glee at the experience, resting your head against your hand as you chewed.

“You really are the best ‘buckin’’ cook, Al,” You complimented, watching him as he cleaned up his mess from the process. “This recipe is new, right?”

“Ah, not really,” He admitted. You wanted to play offended at the fact he had never made these for you before, but the aura around him seemed to suddenly get a bit too serious for that. There was a vacant look in his eye, but his lips held a tender smile. You took another bite of your cookie as you waited for him to continue.

“It was one of my momma’s recipes, I actually found it today in the box of her stuff I keep,” He was washing out the dishes as he spoke. You could tell by the light glaze in his eye that he was reliving a fond but bitter memory. “She was the best baker I know.”

“If these cookies tell me anything, I would have to agree,” You were licking a glob of melted chocolate off your thumb as you spoke. “I wish I could’ve met her.”

Alastor nodded with a hum, agreeing with your statement. He told you many times before how much she would’ve loved you. You knew he didn’t like sweets, but you tried to prompt him to try one with you in an attempt to lighten the mood. He refused, as expected.

You stood from your seat and began to help him clean, much to his chagrin as he tried to push you towards your room to get ready for bed, but you forced yourself back towards the kitchen and stubbornly began rubbing the dough out of the mixing bowl. He sighed and yielded.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence that was only broken here and there by utensils clinging and water splashing. You rested your head against his shoulder as you absently ran a dry towel over the now clean rubber ladle, and he pressed a featherlight kiss against the top of your head in response.

Maybe he could teach you the recipe later.

[harmonysanreads]

Hi Harmony! I just noticed that your requests are open and I decided to drop by with a small request I thought about for weeks.

I was thinking about Arlecchino for a while, and it made me ponder of the concept of Arlecchino with a darling on a reincarnation AU. Maybe Arlecchino has met her darling at such an inconvenient time, and every time that it has happened, only she remembers their past lives.

It probably goes to the point that Arlecchino starts devising ways to be able to keep her darling safe, because each time they would meet, her darling gets into an accident... And it would seem that each time she tried, then it would simply fail. And it would push to a point where she resorts to one of the more not so morally good methods.

I don't know if this counts as a req. or a brainrot, but I offer you this idea because I think it could be interesting to think about sometimes. You're free to deny it btw if its typical, hard, or overall you can't write it <3 I completely understand if that's the case.

(p.s.: this is the one running @yxstxrdrxxm BAHAHAHAHAHA I'm sorry if I haven't replied to your message during OLC, I dont know how to talk to you w/o sounding really awkward </3 also!! hydration check! Anyways thats all, have fun with the idea + I hope you have a great day Harmony :D)

Pantomime Of The Night

yandere!arlecchino x reader

cw(s) : yandere, vampire!arlecchino, mentions of blood, murder, slight gore, non-consensual touching, unbalanced power dynamics

wc : 2.1k

a/n: omg hiii! would you believe me if I said I was just thinking about you before getting this ask? also please don't worry about my message! i had a hunch that you might be in a situation of sorts. thank you so so much for requesting arlecchino because i've been itching to write for her for a long time! i decided to go with vampire!arlecchino for this because i thought it'd suit the reincarnation theme well. i hope you enjoy it<3

lovely illustration based on this fic by a lovely person <3 (spoiler alert!)

At the deepest hours of the night, even the innocent crackles of hearthfire sound as clamorous as gun-shots.

You're dazed by the flame's continuous dance until the aroma of freshly brewed tea reaches your senses and the servants have left. A sharp clank from Arlecchino's glass and the weight of her gaze prompt you to meet her eyes. The light from the fireplace casts shadows on the other half of her fair face, she seemed to have foregone her usual taught posture in favor of a relaxed one. One of her hands supports her cheek while the other holds the wine glass, the beverage within sloshes as the claw-like accessories on her fingers curl around the object.

Your side of the table is far more decorated, desserts that you've never even seen in your impoverished mortal life and that tea you've grown fond of over the course of your stay in her mansion sit appetizingly. All beckon you to feast, all seek to fan the flames of voracity and you offer but a thoughtless stare in return.

The master of the house seems to have noticed your lack of appetite as she finally breaks the stretched out silence, “These are all confectioneries of the highest quality from the town and as I recall, all of your favorites. But you give them no more than a blank stare... you've also not taken a sip from the tea. May I inquire why?”

The raspy tone of her observation has your arms covered in gooseflesh, though, you note she does not sound as confused as her words suggest. You can feel her onyx eyes gloss over every part of your person, inspecting and dissecting each and every visible clue. You swallow dryly, “It’s just that it's way too late in the night,”

“Yet you look as ready as ever to head out. Tell me, have you been anticipating my return, dearest?”

Arlecchino stares pointedly at your attire, likely referring to the traveling clothes you have on instead of the silk nightwear that she had gifted. Your shoulders tense unconsciously, there's something about the way she speaks at this instance that has your heartbeat crescendoing. The silver haired woman gives you a few more beats of anxiety, her talons scrape against the dainty glass.

“I’ve been informed that you have not eaten anything since yesterday.”

The words escape her painted lips easily, but they don't fail to send a jolt through your system. Throughout your stay, she'd never spoken to you like this, like you were one of her children who did not know better and decided to cross a line. That realization renders you further puzzled, you did nothing wrong to begin with, but her tone made you feel as though you were on the verge of doing so. You clear your parched throat and gather yourself to meet her eyes. This time, you do not allow yourself to wilt at the force of her burning stare.

“Arlecchino, I have something to tell you.”

The addressed woman straightens up at your sudden serious tone, her hand abandons the wine glass on the table and you inhale involuntarily at the scratches that now decorate the object, “I’m all ears, dearest.”

Your brows crease, as usual, Arlecchino is courteous, too courteous for someone who makes it obvious she's informed of something that she wasn't supposed to know. She's been like this ever since you and your travel-partner stepped foot in her ambiguous estate. Initially, you were touched by the hospitality she and her adopted children had shown you. Your greed lulled any arising suspicions, you neither questioned why she'd been so generous to a commoner with nothing more than fifty mora to their name nor did you bother to think about how she was affording all those gifts. You naïvely wished to believe in her kindness and that nothing was wrong about this house. But of course, self-woven deceptions last so long.

“Before you mistake me for being ungrateful, I did plan to inform you before leaving. Me and my friend are extremely thankful for the care your house has shown us, but we cannot stay in one place forever.”

“Why not?” you halt at her abrupt question but she follows up before you could even part your lips, “Have we lacked in any area to provide you with the adequate comfort? Have any of my children said something? If it's the latter, I'll apologize in their stead, they can be quite playful at times, I'm sure you understand.”

You stare dumbfounded at the sudden turn this conversation has taken, she wasn't supposed to behave like this. Why is she searching for a reason to make you stay when she should've been happy that a burden was about to be lifted off of her shoulders? Are all nobles this pushy?

“I—” you cut yourself off as the silver-haired woman leans in without warning, her shadow envelopes the delicacies laid out on the small table.

“Or… have you seen something?” she drawled.

You cannot hold back a flinch this time. A curse echoes in your mind at your stupidity, this was no ‘conversation’ to begin with ; this was yet another trap and you'd willingly played right into the palm of Arlecchino's hand. If there's one thing you've learned about this mysterious noblewoman, it is that she enjoys the process of dragging answers out of everyone. From the very beginning, she was aware of your scheme but, she chose to wear that mask of courtesy one more time and lured you out in the open, unguarded. If only your friend arrived to fetch you from your room at the right time, you wouldn't be in this messy situation.

Your eyes dart from her unblinking expression to the sharp accessories that adorn her gloved fingers and something about them forces you to reply quickly.

“No! I mean, you know that I'm a traveler, do you not? It's already been six months since we came to your estate, me and my friend were starting to.. crave that adventurous thrill—yes! We were starting to miss being on the road and decided to depart in the early morning.”

Once upon a time, your late mother had told you that some people in this world are like spiders. They're always at the centerpiece of their lair, leaving intricate translucent webs for unassuming prey to get tangled upon. Although the croaked warnings of your bedridden mother did not make much sense to the younger you, you understood now exactly what she meant.

“Incorrect. You were planning to escape with that friend of yours, weren't you?”

The hearthfire burns bright, shrouding Arlecchino's expression in shadows. The chilling octave of her voice defeats the warmth of the fireplace and has every muscle in your body stiffened. Escape? Her word choice never ceased to baffle you throughout this faux tea-party. She speaks as though you were her prisoner instead of a guest. She tilts her head and has the audacity to look betrayed as though you were a possession she held dear, and not a random human she decided to take pity upon.

Arlecchino runs a hand through her silvery hair with a sigh that actually indicates ennui and you bite back a scowl, “Honestly, I do not understand why you even befriended that thing. He's an obnoxious blabbermouth with a nose bigger than his brain. And he's loud, too. You've always preferred to mingle with level headed people with a sufficient intellectual capacity in the past and here you are, glaring at me as though—”

“Don’t speak like you know me!”

You pant after the force of that outburst, your voice ricochets across the walls of her room and further beyond. You open your mouth to continue but stop when you notice a strange flicker in the silver-haired woman's eyes. It's gone in a blink and is replaced with irritation just as quickly however.

“Oh, but I do know you. I know you better than you know yourself, in fact. I know that there are exactly 11 moles throughout your body, I know all your preferences and fears. Don't believe me? Did you really never stop to question how I managed to give you things that catered to your tastes? How I knew what you desired even before you did? Or were you so mesmerized by the words of that friend of yours to pay minimum attention?”

If the tone of a person's voice could kill, you'd be rotting in a ditch by now. You would've never believed someone could sound this malicious while not even raising their voice. You want nothing more than to shrink away but the adrenaline accumulated through your anger pushes you to keep digging your grave.

“And so what if that's exactly how it is? You have no right to have a say in who I choose to be ‘mesmerized’ by!”

A ‘ha!’ laden with disbelief escapes Arlecchino's lips. Fine silvery strands bounce at the mocking tilt of her head, “So what will you do now? Walk out of the gates with that waste of space like nothing happened?”

“Oh, you bet I will!” you fume, rising from the chair and turning on your heels. You barely take one step away from the table until the full weight of Arlecchino's malice crashes down on you and you remember something important.

“Arlecchino, where is my friend?”

The silver haired woman leisurely raises her wine glass at your stilted words, “In my glass.”

You swivel towards her, blinking several times as if to confirm you didn't mishear.

“Well, here and… probably in the stomachs of my pet vultures, excluding the carcass, that is. I'll admit, the taste is subpar compared to the trouble I went through. That thing kept on screaming until one of the vultures tore its heart out. Ugh, my ears are still ringing.”

Your wide eyes tremble towards the glass in her hand, the deep red liquid within sloshes to the direction of Arlecchino's hand ; paired with her words, your friend’s destiny becomes a no-brainer. All your wits abandon you in that instance and in a moment of sheer panic, you take a step back. Arlecchino promptly interferes with your plans, the door and windows close with no little sound and the table and your chair disappear without a trace—all in the snap of her fingers.

“What are you?”

You would've screamed if you didn't forget how to use your lungs. But then again, you doubt anyone would come to save you from her clutches even if you did. Your eyes connect to her onyx ones and in that moment, she appeared far less human than she'd been this whole encounter. Her pupils flash as two red xs and you feel an invisible pull tugging you to her side. The temptation dominates any coherent thoughts until you find yourself an arms length away from her seated self. Her claws dig into the flesh of your arm and yank you to her lap.

Free from the haze of that strange sensation, the first thing that permeates your senses is how cold Arlecchino's proximity is. Your palm meets her chest in a feeble attempt to push her away but all it does is stun you when you notice the absence of a heartbeat. You feel the sting of something sharp on your chin and waist, your eyes glance back and forth between the sources—dread pools in your stomach. Because of your closeness and the light from the fireplace, you're able to see that the sharp objects you'd mistaken for accessories are actually her nails and the gloves, her real skin.

Perhaps your trembling was so pitiful that Arlecchino could not help but soften her gaze, “Do you truly not recall?”

You look up at her, thoroughly perplexed. There's that previous glint in her eyes again but you've already accepted that understanding this woman was beyond you. One moment she accuses you as though you've been unfaithful, then she vividly describes how she murdered an innocent man and the next she looks almost… hurt?

“Recall what?”

The silver-haired woman’s red lips part and you gulp as unnaturally sharp fangs sneer at you. Albeit, she does not answer you and you wonder if you should get accustomed to playing mental gymnastics with her just to get a simple answer. Her talons let go of your waist and drag their up to your collarbone, creating a deliberate and irrepairable tear on your clothes. Her nails drum against your skin for three seconds before they latch onto your throat.

“Although, that'll no longer be an issue.”

She forces you to make eye-contact with a sharp tug on your chin, the color drains from your face as her cool breath washes against your skin. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but are quickly shushed as you feel her fangs sink into your lower lip.

“Because, we'll have ample time to get acquainted with each other starting from today.”

[l0v3tast3]

Hey hope your doing well late (?) Merry christmas! I love your young reader one shots and headcannons, If its okay and if u have the time can I request more young reader but this time they arent their usual excited chaotic self? Their js absolutely silent and any response they give the boys are just hums/nods or short quick responses?? Dont have to do this if you dont want too btw!

✎ tysm for this ask i'm so sorry this has taken so long!! merry super late christmas lol

✎ tags: young military reader, depressed reader, gender neutral reader, all platonic relationships, everyone in the military is emotionally constipated, mentions of therapy, not proofread ofc

♡ soap is the last to notice you're change in demeanor, and that's only about ten seconds after you've come out of the bathroom (plus, in all fairness, he was explaining how he was going to blow up a building).

♡ all four of the 141 task force are sat at the dining table in the safehouse you're all held up in currently. price and simon are both standing, hunched over blueprints and maps while gaz is typing on a laptop, trying to connect back to base. soap is sat off to the side, staring intensely at his own blueprint, marking points to put explosives every few moments.

♡ the mission you were on had been simple, as usual, and had gone wrong, as usual. everyone was used to it by now, on the verge of just expecting it constantly. you were too by now, but they had noticed the cracks forming in your demeanor, the way your usually-wide smile was tightening, how your eyebrows and shoulders wouldn't relax, your leg unable to stop bouncing when you would sit.

♡ you knew to be serious on missions. between small jokes and popping out when they were about to start getting frantic in looking for you, you would be serious, trigger finger always ready and listening for your next orders. this, though, was what the rest of the task force would call "several steps up" from your usual behavior.

♡ when you step out of the bathroom, they notice your head turned to the ground to hide and the lack of your usual announcement that you were back to grace them with your presence. they don't say anything, though. price wonders if this is what he's been waiting for, the day you lose your smile, and it opens a pit in his stomach that he tries to push away for the time being.

♡ you're all stuck in that safehouse for another four days, and it doesn't get any better. they don't hear you speak more than a few words at a time. you don't look them in the eyes anymore. you're restless and eager to keep your distance from them, only seen outside of the tiny room you had claimed when there was an update to the mission.

♡ they wouldn't talk about it, not while they're out on the mission. price stares at the floor while soap and ghost exchange a look, and gaz wonders if he should follow you back to your room. they just keep on working.

♡ all of them are quietly wondering what it was that did it in for you. everything they'd seen wasn't anything new to you. there had only been a total of maybe ten minutes that you weren't by someone else's side during the thick of it. whatever had happened, they weren't asking, and you weren't telling.

♡ when you're all finally evacuated, the helicopter ride back is tense. price and ghost escaped up to the cockpit with the pilot, and soap and gaz are left sitting in the seats across from you. you're just staring down into space. the most they had gotten out of you in the past few hours was a quick affirmation when given an order.

♡ soap tries to ask you if you're doing alright, and after the second call of your name through the headsets you look up at him. he asks again and you say you're good.

♡ after you land, you slip away to an empty meeting room to complete the new piles of paperwork that always came with the completion of a mission. it's late into the night, and even for a military compound, the halls are quiet; it's a heavy contrast from where you were just hours prior, and you're still waiting for another barrage of gunfire in the distance. the only thing that breaks the silence, though, is heavy footsteps coming closer before the door opens.

♡ in walks your captain with his own stack of folders and packets. he doesn't say anything to you, just sinks into the chair at the other end of the table from you and starts sifting through the papers. you just stare at him for a bit, because you know he has his own office. you know how he complains about his back when he has to do paperwork in a chair that isn't his own custom-ordered one.

♡ after a bit you finally get that he's keeping you company. you go back to checking things off and filling in answers, casting a glance up at price every few moments. he acts like he's alone in the room until he finally meets your gaze with raised eyebrows, as if asking, "are we going to talk about it?" and you go back to writing.

♡ none of the men can get you to crack; they hoped you would go back to your usual self after you got back from the mission, but two weeks afterwards they still couldn't get a full sentence out of you. kyle and soap would try their best to get you to laugh, and ghost even told you a couple of his jokes when everyone else was training.

♡ they finally talk about it at the three week point. it's been nearly a month; kyle brings it up hesitantly while they're all sitting together drinking and playing cards and you've gone to bed for the night. everyone puts their cards down and shifts uncomfortably in their seats, but they know they need to talk about it.

♡ they toss around varying ideas of how to cheer you up. soap says they should throw a party, ghost says to just leave you to work it out yourself. price suggests setting you up with one of the on-site therapists at the base and kyle asks if they should just do an "intervention-type-thing". either way, they know they have to talk to you about it. they elect price to try again.

♡ they next day, price pulls you aside into another empty meeting room and sits down with you. he's awkward and clearly a bit out of his depth, but he bares with it. price starts off with clearing his throat and saying that everyone's worried about you. you say you're fine, and he calls bullshit. you stare down at your folded hands while he goes on about how they've all noticed you're lack of energy, eating, going outside, doing anything outside the requirements really.

♡ he finally asks you what happened, and you mumble that you don't know what it was. nothing in particular actually happened. you just didn't know what was wrong with you.

♡ price tells you that it's alright, that there doesn't have to be any one reason, that there isn't anything "wrong" with you. he asks you if you want him to talk to one of the psychologists or therapists in the base for you. he tells you there's no shame in it, that we all need a little help, that everyone's worried and just wants to get you feeling better. you're hesitant to admit that you need the help until he tells you that just about every person in the base has talked to a therapist at least once or twice. it comes with the job.

♡ they start seeing the light in your eyes again when kyle or soap sneaks you your favorite candy bars, and you start laughing at everyone's bad jokes again, little by little. it takes awhile, but they keep doing what they can. they won't talk about it again, but they're all relieved to see the life coming back to you, slowly but surely.

[betasquadx]

Most to least jealous

Got this idea from reading my bae @b4tasquad , make sure to check them out as this idea was theirs first!!

——

A/N : Atp I js needed to get something out, sorry for the lack of fics lately working on that !!

Btw, this is my opinion so feel free to disagree and even tell me why in the comments x

——

LEAST

5. Sharky

Gonna be real he doesn’t come across as the type to be jealous, protective? Definitely, but I don’t think he’d be clutching his fists if a guy came over and spoke to you, doesn’t strike me as a physical guy, not in THAT way, hes fit, but his first instinct would be to inform the guy politely that you were his girlfriend, not to throw punches if you get what I mean? HOWEVER.. if any guy did try that and wouldn’t leave you alone, I can see him getting worked up and stepping in for his gal. (as he should)

4. Kenny

I’m just as shocked as you are that Kennys at 4th but hmo guys, Kenny is a sweetheart, like we all know this, can I see this man getting protective of you? Of course, but in general I’d say if any guy tried to hit on you, he’d brush it off, with him just muttering an “its cool” while laughing once the guy apologises, but.. if the guy didn’t apologise, I can see this man giving him looks, pulling you in closer to him, and if it gets out of hand we all know Kennys a boxer and what he’s capable of doing.

3. Niko

This man SCREAMS of jealousy. Not in that way, he’s not a controlling typa guy, and no, his first instinct wouldn’t be to punch him, however, after he informs the guy that you’re his girlfriend with his friendly tome, chuckling slightly while you’s give each other a look, it wouldn’t matter if the guy left you alone, he’d have you by his side the whole night, definitely using his height to his advantage if he came back over while clenching his fists.

2. Aj

We ALL knew Aj would be here, this man cannot stand the sight of you with another man, especially if he didn’t know him personally. His fists would be clenched and after informing the man that you’re his girlfriend, he’d seem off the entire night, shooting looks over at him while wrapping his arms around you. Don’t underestimate this man, he may be 5’ft nothing but he’d be tweaking in this situation.

1. Chunkz

Are you fr? If ANY man came over to you, whether to ask you out or just make conversation, Chunkz would NOT be having it. Don’t get it twisted, Chunkz is a friendly guy, he wouldn’t clench his fists right away, but would definitely be weary of the man and caress your waist slightly while he eyed him up and down, and if this man even dared to ask you out, after Chunkz made it very clear you were his girlfriend, his tone would be off as he told the man to leave. And just know If he didn’t leave, we all know what would happen.

MOST

——

Imo this makes sense but what do you guys think?

Anyways sorry for the lack of fics / posts, I’ll try to get some out soon.

Thx tee for the motivation to finish this, loved your fic bae !!

——

[weaper-reaper]

More König fluff and smut

I do apologize that I’ve been away for literally 5ever… sorry for all the fics I’ve abandoned there is a slight chance they still will be released. Until then, thank you always for the support. Here’s a treat for staying loyal and still RBlogging eventuality <3

CW: Fluff, Smut, Fingering, Creamies, KINDA SAFE SEX (literally unheard of), uhh this is KönigxYou btw, apparently ive been tagging my stuff wrong by writing xreader so forgive me ig, I’ve been craving intimacy and fluff irl so here you go, not proofed

Bzzzt… Bzzzt… Bzzzt

Your phone rattled the nightstand, clattering together the jewelry and pens that were haphazardly littered atop the smooth wood. With an annoyed grunt you twisted over to yank it from the cord it was plugged into. The bright screen made your eyes squint in through the darkness, text blurred- you answered it before knowing who was on the other side.

“Hey, uh.. hi.”

“König?” You asked out, the scratchy voice haunting and all too familiar.

There was an awkward staticky laugh through the speaker, and you sat up as your consciousness came rushing back.

“Yeah. Sorry it’s so late.” He apologized, and you pulled the phone from your ear to glance at the time. Just past midnight. “I just got back.”

His demeanor seemed to brighten as you put the cool glass back to your cheek. “Welcome back.”

“Listen.. I'm outside.”

Your heart stuttered, and you glanced to the window of your little studio, the moon sent streaks over the lonely little place you called home and a light rap sounded from the front door.

“Sorry I didn’t text,” He continued, voice stretched thin from exhaustion or travel. “I have something fo- actually, can you come to the door?”

You whipped your head around the room and your eyes landed on your bathrobe cast out lazily across the back of your chair. You snatched it up before responding.

“Yeah, yeah uhm.. hold on.”

“Okay.” He breathed, a hint of a smile on the end of his voice.

Throwing on the robe you rounded the corner from your bedroom, bare feet slapping against the tile on the floor. Without even bothering to peek through the looking hole, you unchained and unlocked the door, swinging it open wide.

König stood taller then you remembered, cast in shadows from the light in the hall. The dark seemed to loom just around him, hovering but an inch above his clothes. You met his cool gaze first, his eyes crinkled and he smiled under his hoodie.

He let the phone at the side of his face fall, and you pulled yours away then too.

“Hello.” He greeted. Smiley and with much more energy than you could’ve mustered this late at night.

“Hi.” You breathed back.

It had only been a few weeks since you last talked, but with him here at your door now- a strange look in his eye- it made it feel like months. The way he had left things made a bitter feeling resonate through your chest and your eyes quickly cast to anything but him. You cleared your throat and stepped to the side, inviting him in.

He had his bags with him, one sandy duffle bag and another giant backpack. You eyed them curiously as he dropped them, quickly answering before you could find the words to ask.

“Mission went a lot smoother than we thought, and my stuff is still in storage.. so.” He shrugged his outer jacket off and drops of water rolled down the nylon.

“It’s raining?” You asked, turning for the kitchen eyes cast over to the window again. Sure enough droplets you hadn’t noticed before stuck thick to the glass pane. “Some tea?” You offered, already putting the kettle on.

“Thank you.” He nodded, finding a spot against the cold counter to lean on.

He cleared his throat as you turned back to him, hands ruffling around in his pockets. He pulled a thin orange envelope from one of his cargo pockets and handed it flat out. You took it gingerly, suddenly too aware of the lack of clothing you sported. You tightened the robe before peeling open the packaging and pulling out the contents.

They were photos, mostly black and white, and definitely weathered. Some water spots bled around the corners making the ink smear and stick. You flipped through them excitedly.

“Oh!” You cooed, they were mostly photos of tall cliff sides, overgrown fields, the occasional tree or strange looking rock formation. You peeled apart one of them, it was a selfie- or an attempt at one. König stood infront of a lake, a few naked men stood behind him, one bent over and mooned the photo.

You laughed and glanced back over at König, a sweet smile was plastered over his face. You caught his eyes and a moment passed discreetly between you.

You had been so caught up in your own head since he left, the lack of communication drawing your feelings further and further from your own chest and you had worried he’d thought your relationship too difficult to handle while he was away. It’s not like he hadn’t been away before, but something made him seem even more distant now. He hadn't said goodbye to you this last time, just vanished. After a week you accepted the possibility of him ghosting you. But now, as his dark figure stuck out against the bright decor of your tiny kitchen, those feelings came flooding back.

The kettle squealed before you could finish your thoughts. Clearing your throat you gently set the pack of photos down onto the counter and poured out the dark liquid into two deep mugs. You handed him his, and his fingers brushed yours as he took it.

You could feel your chest heat up under the thick robe.

“Let me go change.” You whispered, breaking the silence. He set his mug down in response, and followed you to your room.

You glanced back over your shoulder at him as you passed through your doorway and blew a laugh down your nose, “Miss me that much, huh?” You joked that hidden hope, reaching for an old overnight shirt.

His arm stretched over yours suddenly grabbing the fabric with his chest at your back. He had moved so quickly you didn’t even have the chance to hear him take a step.

“I did.” He whispered softly, breath warm as it fanned over the cold shell of your ear.

You could swear your heart stopped, but then his lips were on yours in a flurry. He spun you and your robe had come undone with the movement, back now flush against the closet door. It’s hinges rattled as he all but threw you against it.

His lips were soft, and your heart raced.

It was the wetness then at your cheeks that stilled him. Slowly he peeled off of you and a hand rose to cup your jaw.

“Wh-why are you crying?”

You hadn’t noticed you were until he said something, but as your eyes met again a sob pulled from your lungs. He wasted no time in wrapping you up into his arms, pulling the two of you back onto the still warmth of your bed. You curled into him as your breathing slowed.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, raising the back of your palm to the corner of your eyes. “I just..” you started, quickly realizing it took so much energy to straighten out your thoughts.

“You left so suddenly, without saying anything.”

His brows grew tight, and his eyes cast downward heavily. “I know, I’m sorry.” Even he seemed choked back a bit.

“We weren’t allowed to tell anyone.” He continued, pulling you closer until you were practically laying on his chest. “I should’ve-“

“No it’s okay,” you interrupted, finding your voice again and apologizing, planting a palm on his chest. “It’s on me, I should’ve assumed I know your job is stressful I just..”

You drew your eyes up to his and let them cast over every feature of his face.

“I just missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Significantly more gently this time, he craned his neck down to meet your lips. The kiss was sweeter, softer and something unspoken drew under the both of you, sweeping the two of you up into your own perfect world. Slowly he twisted, and let a hand drag down your neck through the center of your chest before settling on your hip. The rough calluses on his fingertips drew shapes over your soft skin and you couldn’t help but fall victim to the shiver that raked through your body.

There was a tug at the corner of his lips as he smirked, pleased with your reactions. He whispered lowly again, voice thick and laid with his heavy accent. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, afraid of the noises you’d make if you opened your mouth.

With a grace a giant like him should never possess, he dipped his hand under the part in your robe and cupped at your core. A thick finger slid down your part, and then back up blossoming you open with ease. The pad of his middle finger brushed against the hood of your clit and he swallowed the gasp that pulled its way out of your lungs.

You pulled from his lips as he prodded your opening with two fingers, the tips circled your entrance and involuntarily your hips buckled upwards.

“There you go,” He sighed, slipping further and further until his knuckles were pressed up as far as they would go. You felt yourself clench around as he pulled out, willing them to stay.

He slid them in again, and curled them deliciously to drag down your walls with each tug. Your voice betrayed you and a groan escaped, he mimicked your noises, his own breath growing ragged and heavy. His hand worked away at your cunt, and his quickly growing hardness became evident at your side. He was rutting against you in time with his fingers.

You mewled into his lips and slid the arm draped around his neck down his front until your palm coaxed up the forceful protrusion against his zipper. His pace stuttered and your confidence grew with each breathy moan he released.

Delicately, he pulled his fingers from your heat and quickly tugged away at the fastening of his pants, a dark spot crowned his bulge when you looked down. With a new heat at his cheeks and ears, he replaced your hand for you atop his boxers and you immediately squeezed. A moan choked up in his throat and he buried his face into you neck and chest, littering the crevice with sloppy kisses.

Perhaps a little prematurely, you slipped that hand into his pants and against the heat of his skin, pulling his member out and taught between you. He hesitated a moment before returning a thumb to your clit.

He rose again after a moment to smother you into another heavy make out session before rolling over above you. His thick cock weaped against your hip, and an insane amount of pre pooled over the creases of your skin. The air seemed hot and unbearable as you shifted out of your robe completely. Pulling away for a moment, König also shimmied out of his clothes and returned to you in a flash, sticky bodies melting back into eachother.

Be it because of the well prepped lubrication, or simply because the stars were all in alignment, when he returned slotted perfectly against you, the tip of his cock nudged directly into the ring of your pussy.

You both stilled and he let out a pained sounding grunt.

“Fuck..” you paused. “Uhm, are you okay?” You blabbered out lamely.

“Yeah.” He responded almost instantly, a hesitant kind of shame hung over him. “It’s just, It’s been a long time. I don’t know if..”

“It’s okay,” you took over quickly, pulling your knees up and opening your legs enough to where he slid in just that much more.

“Schhhheisse..” he drawled out, “you’re too warm.”

You huffed a short laugh and reached down to circle at your own clit, letting your body adjust to the stretch of him. Tingles rushed through your body and your mind quickly became fuzzy. With a deep breath he let his fingers replace yours and he pulled away to push back in deeper than before.

Letting your head fall back, you let him work himself into you. Pulling his hips away before using his weight to shove it all back into you again, König built up a steady rhythm and your mind and body grew hot.

His arms slipped under your back, and he pulled you closer to him, each wet smack echoing through the empty room. The walls of your insides burned, and that familiar tightness below your belly made itself known.

“Ahh, ah.. fuck.” You whined, completely caged beneath him. “I can’t.. I think I’m close.” You stumbled out, clawing at the backs of his massive arms.

“I know.” He grunted, “Got-damn you’re getting so tight.”

Part of you wanted to apologize for his struggle, but a bigger part of you wanted to clench up your core tighter. The latter won and soon König thrusts grew shorter and sloppier. His moans equalling his unsteadiness. You pushed your hips up to meet him, grinding down your front to his pelvis, begging for more friction.

The head of him slammed suddenly against your cervix as he pulled your legs up, latching purchase behind your knees to effectively bend you in half. You shouted in surprise at the new angle, everything quickly becoming too much.

“Where can I-?” He began and you answered before he finished.

“Inside!” You shouted, then cried as his thrusts became rougher- more demanding. “Inside, I.. IUD. It’s safe.”

You couldn’t help but grind your hips up into him, a desperate attempt to hurry your aching clit along. His lips found yours again in a frenzied haze, and you came undone almost instantly. Your core pulsed and you cried out from under him as the waves shook through every inch of your body.

König followed with two more strong thrusts, his hips stuttering and locked within your tightness. You could feel the warmth flow up deep inside of you, and he practically collapsed above you, completely spent.

You both laid a moment together, and his sweet cadence finally broke the silence after your pussy stopped its throbbing. He attempted to pull out, but your cunt gripped him completely.

“Relax.” He almost chuckled. Embarrassment flushed your face as he dragged a soothing hand down your sides, pulling away with a hiss.

“Sorry..” you mumbled.

He cast his eyes back up to you in a flash, and smirked. “Don’t be.”

“Just give me ten, okay?”

You rolled away to cover your face, giggling.

[brrypiiix]

what was trollex and clays reaction when they found out they were having the triplets?

Sorry for the late response! Finals week is coming up.

This is actually a big one to answer for me, because I got a whole scenario planned out and I’m so glad you asked this.

My HCs That Help to Make This Make Sense

Pop Trolls naturally only have one egg at a time

Techno Trolls naturally can have more than one at a time(bc fish)

The mixing of genres cause different effects to a certain troll when they have an egg or more due to each type of genre needing specific resources. For example, a Rock Troll egg would require a large amount of calcium in order to naturally have the harder shell they usually do and a Pop Troll may not be able to provide that amount unless they’re aware of this, in which they just have to put more calcium into their diet, but its still a rare case for a Pop Troll to have a Rock Troll egg without any soft spots due to the lacking requirements. So in this case, a Pop Troll, who is naturally adapted to making only one egg at a time, having more than one is asking for extra resources from the Pop Troll that they may not have due to the resources needs being so different

Pop Trolls are more adapted to being overprotective of their eggs, due to their major history with the Bergens and being extra vulnerable as prey animals compared to the other genres

Techno Trolls are more adapted to carrying around other Techno Trolls eggs. Babysitting is a huge norm to them

Claylex Reactions and Experience of Having The Triplets

Pure shock.

First off, they did not even know they were having eggs. It was, in a way, an unexpected. Not that they didn’t want kids, Trollex especially wanted kids with Clay by this time. Clay was more focused on work and his workaholic tendencies, so he didn’t think much of it.

The thing is, Clay definitely was not aware enough to know what to expect if he were to have an egg from Trollex, and turns out it actually was a scary moment.

He definitely curses himself for not doing any research on it, but then again genres were still just beginning to mix in this period so not much knowledge was known for Trolls all across the kingdom. Plus, he wasn’t expecting to have eggs anytime soon

When it happened, he got up one morning. He was especially exhausted and his body ached, but not as much as his head. Pure migraine and him groaning from it. He made it to the kitchen just enough time to basically start having the worst pain to experience in his head. So imagine Guy Diamonds experience having Tiny Diamonds egg, and then crank it up by a ton and then multiply it by 3. Since Clay had three eggs. All with needs that his Pop Troll body isnt adapted to meet. They were draining a lot more resources than he was ready to provide.

Luckily, his brothers were there to help him through it. All through panic and John Dory passing out at one point, whom which Clay was cursing out like crazy

Clay was a cursing demon too during this, btw. He was absolutely terrifying and saying the most outlandish things, but bro had every right

Trollex also wasn’t there, because he wasn’t visiting at the time. He was all the way at the Reef when this was happening, because they weren’t expecting this to happen at all

So as soon as Clay’s hair popped out the three eggs finally, he was so physically exhausted that bro ended up passing out for three whole days straight

Absolutely terrified his brothers, who all worked to keep watch over him and relying on Dr. Moonbloom to ensure he truly was alright.

The moment Trollex found out Clay had eggs, was like hours after Clay had passed out. Trollex was so crazy happy to hear he has eggs now, that he swam out, did a whole “whoop” noise and got all his Techno Trolls to chant it back to him before he booked it so quick on his whale all the way to Trollstopia to be with Clay. He extended his stay for three whole weeks to be with him and help take care of him and the eggs.

Trollex was completely speechless the moment he got to see the eggs. He knew he loved them before he even saw them, but he didnt think it’d come so strong when he actually got to be around them. They havent even hatched and already he’s imagining all the fun stuff they can do together, all the raves he can take them too and to teach them all kinds of things from Techno culture

Despite the absolute scare it was, Trollex doesnt really understand why exactly it happened either, and is more ecstatic at the fact that they have eggs now. Because again, having more than one egg was normal to Techno Trolls.

So the moment Trollex found out about the way Pop Trolls naturally have eggs and what that put Clay through, he was extra clingy to him and apologizing over and over, feeling absolutely guilty to put him through that. He was already super loving and caring over Clay, but this increased it after that.

Clay, on the other hand, was still processing from it all and was exhausted. He thought it was so insane that he had three eggs and was never told of the possibility nor how it would go down(to be fair, no one knew of it happening like this).

Clay went through some major mood swings and the moment he saw Trollex he went from cursing him out for putting him through this situation, to crying to him about how much it hurt, to clinging to him for extra comfort from his husband

They definitely had to help him get his nourishment and energy back up too since it was drained to give to the eggs

Clay struggled a lot with contemplating if being a father was who he was now, if it erases all his work and accomplishments. Basically struggled more with his identity issues. He didn’t want being a father to override everything he’s ever accomplished.

Then he worried if he could love or protect them enough, and proceeded to cry many nights over it while holding them, afraid of being a bad parent already

Despite this though, the moment Clay was first awake and able to hold his eggs, he was so extremely protective of them that bro threatened to bite the hand off of anyone who tried to touch them. His brothers, and other pop trolls, were already aware enough to not try him. Because one, they know he’s naturally gonna be over protective and two it’s Clay so the aggression is gonna be cranked up.

Clay definitely at one point had a huge mood swing that caused him to break down in tears, fearing for his future and his eggs. Fearing that his identity of being a hard, serious worker and everything he’s done being overlooked because he’s now a father. It got so bad that bro started crying in bed, with all his family there trying to console him, and he starts irrationally freaking out and going “I can’t do this, man!! I’ll never make it as a father!!! Take them!! TAKE THEM!! RIGHT NOW- NO DONT TOUCH MY BABIES!!!” Next thing they all know, JD has a new bite scar on his arm.

John definitely had to walk into Clay’s room every time in fully homemade armor like a person wears when giving a cat a bath. He was the main target to Clay’s hostility whenever he was in his area during this time

Trollex wanted so badly to take the eggs to their first rave, but Clay shut that idea down so quick because it’d be way too dangerous, he did not want to go to some rave while busy caring for eggs, and he refuses to separate from them

Trollex had to learn very quickly that he had to be careful not to overstep Clay’s boundary when it came to the eggs, but was able to calm him down mostly enough that he could relax and let Trollex get up close to his hair to talk to, caress and be near the eggs

Trollex absolutely sung to the eggs every time him and Clay cuddled

He also talked to them and kept saying how amazing they will be out in the world one day and always says that he’ll always be there for them to love them

Makes Clay tear up and cry every time, because thats the love he wants to give his babies. Something him and his brothers never received from either of their parents

Clay is super strict when it comes to not taking his eggs out of his hair, but sometimes when he’s alone he will and set them on his criss crossed lap to hug and love on. He also uses this time to promise that he’ll do his best for them and love them with all his heart.

Clay is scared all throughout the incubating period with the eggs in wondering if he’s a bad parent, if he can truly love them, if being a parent erases who he is as a troll, but spoiler alert, the very moment they hatch he’s so overwhelmed with parent love for them

And there ya go! Thanks for the ask!

If you’d like to know more on my hcs related to anything Trolls just shoot me an ask or request. I love doing these

[redzie02]

okay so I have an idea for an angsty Hongjoong fic. (poorly written) feel free to use this and if u do, tag me!! So I can support and reblog and give u a lil kiss on the forehead<3 add smut to it or not idc as long as he’s on his knees and begging for forgiveness,,, i was half asleep when I wrote this btw masterlist

Hear me out. For the past month, Hongjoong has been drowning himself in work. Work seems to be the only thing he cares about, he’s rarely ever home. And he definitely hasn’t made any time for you:(. It doesn’t help that you’ve maybe had the worst month of your life and no one to talk to about it. Your mental health has been spiraling and it’s only gotten worse since Hongjoong’s lack of attention in the relationship.

I guess one day you’ve finally had enough and blow up on him or decide to give him the silent treatment all day. I mean, it works, Hongjoong FINALLY notices something might be wrong after 3 whole weeks.

When you guys get home after dinner with the group, he asks, “what’s wrong?” You don’t reply, completely ignoring him and heading straight to the bathroom to shower. He follows you, a little frustrated and confused, and he watches as you undress and step into the shower acting as if he wasn’t there.

Hongjoong watches in silence, dread and anxiety growing in him. While scrubbing your body, you don’t realize Hongjoong undressed, preparing to get into the shower with you. He was determined to get you to talk.

The sound of the shower door sliding open startles you a bit but you roll your eyes when you see Hongjoong step in. You’re tired. You’ve been tired for weeks so your voice comes out monotonous and low, “Please get out, Hongjoong. I don’t want to yell at you.” Your back facing him.

You take a few more deep breaths, his hands still on your shoulders. He tilts his head to get a better look at your face. Your eyes are closed, squeezed shut actually. He tilts your head up with his fingers, this is the most intimate you guys have been in a while, you realize. The realization only makes your stomach hurt. “Please, please talk to me.”

You’re defiant, you don’t look in his eyes. If this wasn’t as serious as it was, he’d say you were acting like a brat and fix your brattish ways.

You slowly open your eyes, looking at his face but not exactly making eye contact. “You haven’t done anything, Hongjoong. That’s the problem.” He really is an idiot because his brows furrow like he has no clue what you’re talking about. You let out a frustrated sigh and continue. “When was the last time we were this close, hm? Or had an actual conversation? You’re never home and I never know what you’re doing.”

“I-“

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to pretend I know about whatever is going on with you when Seonghwa or San talk about it? To find out about your upcoming projects from your friends, but not you? How is it that I hear more from them than the actual person I live with? Hm? Do you even know what’s been going on in my life? No, you haven’t even cared to ask, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong stood with his lips parted, processing everything. Guilt clawed at him because he knew you were right. He’d been ignoring the love of his life because he prioritized his career over you. Something he never thought he’d do. He’d been ignoring his own health as well, meals left unfinished and surviving on just a few hours of sleep a night. He had lost weight, the bags under his eyes were darker than ever, not that he noticed.

Of course you worried about him, that’s all you ever do, but he never stuck around long enough to address your concerns.

He blinked, putting a hand on your cheek. “I-baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-“

“No, I’m not accepting your apology until you actually show me. I don’t just want words.” He nods and opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt him, wanting to get everything out in the open in fear of not getting the chance to do so in the future. You sigh. “I-I feel like I haven’t been myself lately and I wish I had you here to talk to. You always make me feel better but I don’t know…I don’t know if something’s changed or if it’s me…if you want something or someone else-“

“No, no y/n. I’m sorry- about everything. I’ve been so wrapped up in work that I haven’t been taking care of you the way I should. I’m sorry that I made you feel as if I didn’t want you. I promise, I love you with everything that I am and everything that I have. I know it’s my fault and I hate that I made you feel anything less than loved. Things will change- I will be better and I swear on it, okay?”

You nod. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself either, Joong.”

And um I guess you wash each other up, taking your time, then head back to the bedroom. You lay down and stare at each other, caressing each other. You guys catch up. Hongjoong tells you every little detail about stuff he’s been working on and you tell him about all the stress from work you’ve been through and your deteriorating mental health :). Of course he shows you with his actions just how sorry he is- in more ways than one. Maybe this is where one would insert smut.

But yeah, this post is rough, if anyone would like to use this as inspo or expand on it and make it better, feel free to and tag me ;)!!

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! This is a sort of weird question, but I’m writing a sci fi /fantasy book with two disabled main characters:

1. Cove is twelve years old and has something along the lines of Williams syndrome (possibly that, possibly Down syndrome—still deciding). He’s mildly intellectually disabled and has low muscle tone + an unspecified heart problem (which is stable but he still gets regular checkups for it). His power is turning into a giant at will. He might have PTSD for reasons that are potentially triggering, so I won’t go into details ^^’ He really likes the ocean and spicy food, and hates people staring at him or judging him

2. Lucas is sixteen and uses a wheelchair full time due to cerebral palsy. His hands tend to shake a lot too. His power is turning into a Sphynx cat. He’s a trans guy. Idk what he would like or dislike yet tbh, but I picture him dressing in black clothes a lot

My question is this—what are some ways these characters’ powers could like interact with their disabilities? So far I have that overusing his giant power could possibly put strain on Cove’s heart. and if Lucas wants to move around independently in his cat form, he’d probably need one of those animal wheelchairs for his back legs?

Also— is there anything else I need to consider while I write this story?

I’m not trying to get you to do all the brainstorming for me btw! I hope it doesn’t seem like that ^^’ I’m just looking for other people’s thoughts and input-

Hi!

I think that the powers you gave them are very cool! Often with disabled superpowered characters there's the trope of always having the ability be fundamentally connected with their disability. Someone shapeshifting into a cat is awesome!

The concept of Cove's transformation putting pressure on his heart is very realistic (if you can say that about shapeshifting, lol)! Both Down and Williams Syndrome come with cardiac problems, so you won't need to change that if you decide to switch the exact disability. I'm thinking that maybe he could try to slowly turn giant, rather than instantaneously? I imagine that turning back to being normal-sized could also cause some issues. I'm unsure if that's a part of your story, but I think that having his family worry about him transforming because of his heart would be realistic as well. Wouldn't really classify it as infantilization because he's twelve, and I know that a lot of parents of children with DS are extremely cautious around the cardiovascular problems (not sure about Williams Syndrome here, but I think it would make sense as well)! You mentioned PTSD, and while I don't see anything wrong here from what you said, I would just urge you to not have some weird "PTSD flashback = turns giant and extremely violent" (violent being the key word here) kind of scene. (If you have PTSD yourself then feel free to do whatever you want of course). But I think that him becoming bigger when he feels threatened as a defense mechanism of sorts would make sense.

For Lucas, I think that the idea of shapeshifting from a wheelchair user to a wheelchair using cat goes incredibly hard. As for the ways that it could interact with his cerebral palsy: if he has issues with his arms then he would use the wheelchair a bit differently. In the kitty wheelchair the whole energy comes from the forelimbs, so if his hands shake then he would be much more wobbly as a cat than as a human. I'm not sure whether cerebral palsy in kitties is a thing, but you can look up cats with cerebellar hypoplasia. It's not the same thing but causes some similar symptoms! For example, the lack of balance that Lucas could have due to shaky limbs.

In my opinion your story sounds great! If you have any more questions with more specific details, feel free to send another ask :)

Sorry for the late answer! I hope this helps!

mod Sasza

[the-guilty-writer]

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Request from @steveharringtonsgirl04: Hey! I have a request you can totally say not to it but it just keeps coming back in my head lol  soo dad hotch x teen reader where she just wants her dad to hold her :( like all the hotch hugs so he takes her to the BAU and nobody knows he has a daughter btw I absolutely adore your writing it’s literally my favorite!

Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Summary: Hard days are always made better by Hotchner hugs.

A/N: I fully admit that I am lacking in creativity at the moment and I don’t love the “secret family” trope, so this is just short and fluffy Hotch being the best dad

CW: reader gets her period, mentions of vomiting, suggestion that reader’s mother is Haley but could always be adopted or from another relationship

---

“Everyone has his day and some last longer than others.”

Well, you were having your day. And it was bad. Before the lunch bell rang for the day you’d already gotten a terrible night sleep, had Jack spill juice on your favorite top, been late for class, gotten locked out of your locker, tripped over your own feet causing you to face plant in front of the upperclassmen, and gotten your period.

It was safe to say that you were having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

You riffled through your backpack, looking for the bottle of Advil to ease the cramps, but when you found it, it was empty. You cursed under your breath.

Terrible. Horrible. No Good. Very Very Bad Day.

With the knowledge that you’d be unable to get through the rest of the day without being in pain, you swallowed your pride and went to the nurse’s office.

“I’m going to have to call a parent or guardian to bring you something,” the older lady told you. “It’s against school policy for me to give students medication without a doctor's note. Is there someone I can call?”

Usually the answer would have been Jessica, but for once she was the guardian who was out of town.

“Yeah, um, my dad,” you said.

The nurse gave you a sympathetic look and left. She came back a few minutes later. “He’s on his way,” she informed you.

Feeling exhausted and uncomfortable, all you could do was nod.

---

When Hotch walked into the nurse’s office an hour later, he thought you might be on the verge of vomiting. While you tried to look as stoic as him, the paleness of your face gave away how you were actually feeling, and the guilt that he couldn’t get there sooner made his heart sink.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted you, sitting next to you on the cot. He pulled a bottle of Advil from his pocket and handed it to you.

“Thanks.” Your hands were slow but your voice was grateful. “Sorry you had to drive all the way here.”

“No need to apologize.” He kissed your forehead before you downed the pills. You leaned into him slightly and he wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

“‘S not your fault,” your voice was muffled by his suit. You leaned into him and he held you gladly. Just like your mom, you’d always liked hugs, even more so when you hurt.

“Do you want to come to work with me?” he asked. “You can come lay on the couch in my office for the rest of the day.”

You didn’t even question it. “Yes, please."

He signed you out at the front desk. You got a few funny looks, probably doubts that your cramps were really bad enough that you needed the rest of the day off school, but nobody was going to question the glock on your dad's hip or the ID on his shirt.

He helped you into the car, always showing you how any future partner you have should treat you. By the time he climbed into the drivers side, you were already slumped against the door, fast asleep. A gentle smile crept over Hotch’s face as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, careful not to wake you, and then began driving to the office at Quantico.

---

“Do you need anything?” Your dad asked before he sat down at his desk.

You were curled up on the couch in his office, a warm cup of tea on the small table in front of you and a fuzzy blanket. Halfway through the drive, your dad had stopped to get your favorite food. You had your laptop out so you could relax and watch your favorite movies. Really, you had everything.

“A hug?” you requested. That was the one thing he’d never say no to. He sat beside you on the couch and pulled you into a hug- the safest feeling in the world. As he let go, he kissed your forehead and then pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

You put the headphones on and turned on the movie. Your dad began his paperwork.

It was no longer a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

[dragon-watcher03]

Would you do hcs on Kuai x concubine!reader x Harumi? SFW or NSFW

I just love them so much ❤️

I live😃

Harumi x Concubine Bride!Reader x Kuai Liang

Note: So sorry I haven't been active lately. I've been lacking motivation but recently my electrics got cut off so I decided to just answer an ask! Fem reader btw

Harumi is defo the cook in the relationship. Last time you or Kuai cooked, the kitchen ended up in flames (in Kuai's case literally)

Kuai is more protective of you than Harumi is, unless a chick starts flirting with you. Then expect hands to be thrown.

Despite Harumi being the more feminine of you two, that does not mean she's weak. If anything, she could beat Kuai in a sparring match on a bad day.

Both you and Harumi use Kuai as a heating pad during the winter or when you both are on your periods. Speaking of, you and Harumi would sync up which would be a nightmare for any other man, but Kuai knows how to handle you both.

A lot of men get jealous of Kuai for having 2 beautiful women on his shoulders, and they should be, because no one but him can have you both. However he does tend to get a little jealous at all the glances men keep giving you both.

As a little competition, you and Harumi would bet on who could get pregnant first. This goes on for a few weeks, only for you both to end up pregnant at the same time. Kuai was ecstatic at this and you both were as well.

Tomas treats you and Harumi like sisters. He loves you both because you make his brother happy. And he loves his niece and nephew even more, but he'll never tell you guys that.

[goatlottin]

protective boyfriend headcanons

Literally never leaves your side

Always wondering where you are, and tries not to, but is always checking your location

Usually checks up on you to make sure you’re actually eating, being productive

Like, would literally leave you a cup of water by the bed

N would ask for pictures if YOU ACTUALLY DRANK IT

Asks you to go out with him, just because he’s scared he’ll miss you too much and wanna come back early

Whenever you’re at his matches, he’s just constantly eyeing you

That is when he’s not on the ball…

After a big win or after he’s scored, he’ll wait for you on the pitch

Literally grabs you into his arms

As if his name is not tattooed to his back, he doesn’t care.

Gets soooo angry when he sees a teammate even look in your direction

Basically suffocates you into him

A show off

At restaurants, he will never ever let you even bring your wallet

Just thinks you deserve the option to not worry about money when you’re with him

Will typically order for you as well, knowing you get shy

Also if the waiter starts to piss him off

By piss him off, I mean offers you a refill of water

He will defend your name at all costs

No matter it’s a family member with a sly comment about your background

Or a teammate mocking your lack of punctuality

He won’t have any of it, really

“Don’t speak about her like that”

Why can I imagine him roaring that literally (sorry)

Would never let you walk home alone

f he knew you had classes late or had to stop by a store, he would come running

You knew he was tired, and you would feel so terrible about it

The one time he would have to put your feelings aside for this

“Ky, I really could've called an uber."

"An uber? You know they just let anyone be qualified ‘drivers'"

He would be such a hypocrite btw

Will become the most irritated man on the planet if a man were to even compliment your shoes

Huffing and puffing the whole way back home

Until a girl compliments him and you even give a slight look

He’s all over you😭😭

“Is my baby jealous?”

you would ignore him but he would be smirking and just going “hmm, hmm?” for the next 10 minutes

Same man who gets pissed when you’re holding his nephew’s hand

He just finds it hysterical that you think he would even think about other women

Would pull you into a hug as he smiled into the top of your hair

You would let him win this time

OH MY GOD when he’s out and buys you a little gift you know you said you wanted because he wanted to be the one to do it for you

“You could’ve got me this for my birthday, you know”

“I have other ideas for you too baby,”

[theteasetwrites]

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 6: Through Life and After Death

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+)―missionary, body worship, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (do not endorse), loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, sir kink if you squint, "fucked dumb" (lol), language ❧ Word Count: 15k (I am so sorry.)

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: With the threat of Negan and the Saviors' imminent return heavy on your mind, you find solace in one last excursion outside the castle walls, with your knight. A chance discovery, and the knowledge that this may be your last moment alone with him, leads you to the logical conclusion of your longing.

❧ A/N: Babe, wake up. The knight and the princess are about to boink. Btw I wrote most of this while I’m on my period so that might explain a lot.

The night before last had haunted you, tormented you, until you saw Sir Negan’s arrogant face in every shadow in your bedroom, every darkened corner of the castle, and even every forlorn hollow amongst the foliage in the courtyard where you took your afternoon strolls. 

Your own home became a house of horrors, and now, you could not stand to be there another minute. 

Before that night, the castle was only a place of sadness for you, but now, it was a looming threat, with each rising and setting of the sun marking another day closer to the day he would come back. You couldn’t even bear to speak his name, so you didn’t. You couldn’t, as though somehow even using your voice to acknowledge his existence was giving him more power. And yet, it was impossible to avoid the plague of unease that the man had infected you with. 

Afterall, your situation was dire, no matter what transpired in the coming days leading up to his return. If your father decided to appease Negan, the best option for the survival of the kingdom, it would mean you’d be given to him willingly, taken to the Sanctuary to be his wife. If your father refused to give you to him, you’d be taken by force, and there was no way that Alexandria’s now weakened defenses could fight the Saviors from taking you―they were going to take you, no matter what. There was no outcome that would be in your favor. You were going to be Negan’s now, and you had to accept it.

But you didn’t. 

Late last night, the king had left Alexandria in the hopes of making alliances with neighboring kingdoms against the Saviors in a last ditch effort to fight them. It was a noble pursuit, but worthless. Even with the help of the other provinces, the Saviors had weakened those kingdoms as well. Their armories were ransacked, and their numbers were increasingly dwindling. Still, you took advantage of your father’s absence―for one last excursion outside the walls before you’d surely be ripped away from your home in a matter of days. 

It was the easiest breakout yet, given the lack of guards roaming the corridors of the castle. The journey through the tunnel was quiet, none of the usual talk of knighthood or herbalism or the knight’s stories of his adventures in exotic, faraway lands. It wasn’t until the meadow when you asked Sir Daryl to treat this day just the same as the others―as if nothing had changed, and this wasn’t your last journey with him. 

And so, the knight being simply unable to refuse your wishes, he buried his sorrows to speak of things that pleased you, and you continued regaling him with quotes from your favorite tales and poems, all of which he listened to attentively, pulling Phantom’s reins as you both approached the familiar little cottage, its new outer walls now the first thing you saw.

It was only recently that Sir Daryl had commissioned a mason to build the protective border round the little house, an additional safety precaution to keep the walkers out, he said. Sometimes, you wondered if he’d had that built just for you to be safe, but perhaps that was a self-centered thought. The notion still produced a fluttering feeling in your abdomen, one that you became accustomed to since you first felt them with him. It was the most pleasant feeling you’d ever had, and no matter how you experimented to see if any other source of happiness could replicate that feeling, you always failed. 

The sun was setting now, the usual ending to the usual day out, only now, the knight had offered to prepare you a real supper, not just the usual loaves of bread and rosemary butter. This eve, he was set on something special―venison he’d hunted himself just days prior, accompanied by vegetables you’d collected from the cottage garden, many of which you’d never even tried before. “Peasants’ grub” the nobles called them, but they were simple potatoes, onions, cabbages, leeks, carrots… Everything you’d need for a good stew. 

But Daryl would not let you lift a finger, relegating you to sitting upon one of the straw-filled pillows strewn about on the floor, just a handful of feet from the warm lit hearth, where Daryl stood laboring over a steaming pot. 

“Are you sure you do not need any help?” you peeped, though you and he both knew that you had less skill in cooking than him. In fact, you’d never even cut a vegetable before today. That was simply not your responsibility.

He looked at you through curling smoke, his eyebrow raised at the notion. “Told ya I’d do it. Isn’t much left to do, anyway… Just gotta let it cook a bit more.”

With your posture as straight and perfect as ever, you nodded and wrapped the blanket he always gave you tighter around your body. At this point, it smelled distinctly of your sweet perfume. “Thank you again, Daryl. I know… I know this is not the most ideal time to leave the castle, but I could not stand to be there another second. I swear I can still smell that man’s stench.”

Daryl swallowed hard before clearing his throat, disturbed by the very thought of him, the man who he knew he could not stop from taking you, but he’d do anything in his power to prevent it from happening.

He’d thought of many things, in fact. He hadn’t slept in two nights, the time spent instead thinking of ways to stop Negan, but they all had their weaknesses. Of course, his first thought was to hide you, to take you away from the castle and keep you somewhere else, but that wouldn’t stop the Saviors from pillaging Alexandria, from killing more people. The one thing keeping Negan from destroying the kingdom was you, and even then, it was still uncertain. 

And killing Negan and enough of the Saviors to render them powerless was next to impossible. Alexandria was a small kingdom anyway, and now it had dwindled down to almost the size of a large village, with hardly any defenses or military-trained citizens to even stand a chance against an army of the Saviors’ size. The situation was hopeless, and he hated that all he could do was wait. 

“But it’s nice to be here,” you said. “I like it here… With you.”

He met your sweet smile with a boyishly lopsided one. The man was quite a bit older than you, but he had a youthfulness about him you couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was in his eyes, which glimmered just as brightly as you’d imagined they had when he was closer to your own age. His face was weathered, but mostly, he was very handsome to you, with a softness to his features that mesmerized you at times. 

Particularly, you’d developed a fascination with his lips, the way they moved. He had a habit of folding in his lower lip and chewing on it, especially when deep in thought. Sometimes he’d purse them to the side when he was frustrated, or the top lip would snarl a bit when he killed a walker. You’d become attuned to the patterns of his smiles, grins, and smirks. Your favorites were the ones like this, uneven and slightly bashful, as though you’d said something that flattered him. 

You’d been flattering him a lot more lately, you realized. Perhaps your attraction to him was becoming more and more difficult to hide. Strangely, you did not feel the usual urge to combat it. Maybe it was the particular kind of heat from the hearth that evening or the way his hair was pinned behind his ears to keep it out of his way as he cooked, but the fluttery feeling in your abdomen was more persistent than usual, more continuous. At some point, you knew it would be impossible to hold back, but you had to. 

“I like being with you, too,” he replied, sprinkling some freshly ground herbs into the cast iron pot. “I wish I could…” He trailed off, stopping his train of thought before he spoke improperly in front of you. 

“Could what?”

Gut Negan ‘fore he lays another finger on you. “Nothin’.”

You huffed in amusement at his shyness. “Keeping secrets from your princess,” you teased with a wiggling brow and a squint of faux offense. “That is not very knightly behavior, sir.”

My princess, he thought. Mine.

He shook his head with a huff, ridding himself of his intrusive thoughts. “Wish I could… do somethin’ for you, s’all.” 

“Oh, Daryl,” you said. “You’ve already done so much for me. There’s nothing you could do… It is in my father’s hands. Well, it is in Negan’s hands, really.”

“But it shouldn’t be like that.”

“No, it shouldn’t, but it’s how it is, no matter what. Even if Sir Negan had no interest in me, my father would expect me to marry a noble, or a prince or king from some other kingdom. He’s a good father, but he is still a king. Really, I am quite lucky he has not married me off yet. Many princesses marry men they do not love. My mother, her marriage to my father was arranged. Somehow, it worked. They grew to love each other very much. I do not believe I could ever love Sir Negan, though… Not ever. He is evil.”

I won’t let him take you, he wanted to say, but he knew that would be an empty promise. Tonight, for all he knew, could’ve been one of the last nights he’d ever see you again. One thing was certain, this was going to be the last time he took you outside the castle. The last time he could truly be alone with you. And yet, he could not work up the courage to tell you how he felt, how he cherished you much more than he should’ve, how he believed he loved you. 

“Wish I could take you away from here,” he said, his lips moving faster than his brain could process his words. “Wish you could stay here, and Negan would never find you.” When his rationality caught up with him, he cleared his throat and shook his head in an attempt to take back what he just said, even though he meant every word. 

“I do, too,” you said, surprising him a bit. “I wish I could, but then what would Negan do? He’d destroy Alexandria. He’d kill my people… He might even kill my father. I couldn’t let that happen. No, I have to face it. There’s nothing anyone can do, Daryl, though I appreciate how much you care about my safety.”

I love you.

Instead of voicing his thought, he eyed the weakening fire of the hearth, its flame no longer adequately heating the bottom of the pot. “I’m sworn to protect you,” he said. “As your knight.” He felt your soft gaze caressing his face like an invisible hand, though he tried to remain nonchalant as he poked at the fire. “If I let you get taken against your will, I’m not protecting you.”

That was almost amusing to you, as Daryl seemed to rarely care about performing his official knightly duties. When it came to you, though, he took his job quite seriously. In fact, you began to wonder if he cared more about protecting you than his own lord to whom he owed fealty. What he owed to you meant much more than mere feudalism, though. What he owed to you was his mind, body, and soul. 

“And I am sworn to protect my kingdom. If I run away, I am endangering my kingdom.”

That all being said, the idea of Daryl taking you far away from all your troubles was dangerously tempting, to the point that you forgot to breathe for a moment, until it came back to you in the form of a heavy swallowing of air.

“I do not want anyone else to die,” you continued. “I… certainly do not want you to die fighting for me, Daryl, though I am so very grateful for everything you’ve done for me. In truth, I don’t think I have ever felt as close to someone as I feel with you.”

There was more you wished to say, and it seemed as though Daryl had something on the tip of his tongue, but once again, he held himself back, despite every cell in his body screaming out to you professions of love and adoration that had only grown stronger with each passing moment he’d known you. With every way he’d begun to see you for who you were, he fell harder in love. With every angle of you he feasted upon with starving eyes that tore themselves away despite their hunger, he grew more desperate, more bereft of your warm, soft, supple body that he dreamed of cherishing and worshipping every waking moment of everyday. 

God, he couldn’t keep you from his mind, your presence overwhelming and intoxicating and mesmerizing, even in this moment when your voice spoke so innocently and with the dignity and poise of a princess. That’s what you were, he had to remember—a princess. He was a knight. He needed to know his place… Though it was becoming increasingly harder to do so.

With the heady air of silence meandering between you in the tiny hovel, Daryl concentrated on rousing the flame of the hearth, but there was nothing he could do to build it up again without collecting more firewood to fuel it. It was the perfect moment to excuse himself and go out to gather tinder while he collected himself, before he did or said something… improper. 

In fact, he swore that if he opened his mouth now, he’d wax poetic about all the sinful thoughts he’d tried to keep at bay. Only your voice stopped him from heading out without an explanation.

“Where are you going, knight?”

He palmed at his forehead with a huff, remembering that he was in a social situation, with a sacred woman he cared for too tenderly. He couldn’t just leave you without saying what he was doing, after all. 

“Hearth needs more tinder,” he spoke over his shoulder as he donned his black wool cloak. “I won’t be far, just at the splitting log right outside.”

“I shall stir the stew,” you said dutifully, rising elegantly from your seat, with delicate handfuls of your dress to lift it as you crossed to the hearth. 

“Don’t poison it,” the knight replied, to which you flashed him a smirk. 

“Why ever would I do such a thing? That would be foolish, anyway. I am going to eat the stew, too.” He turned to look your way. It was a mistake. He got lost in your face, your cheeks high and full with your smile, and your eyes sparkling with the reflection of the dying fire. “Hurry along, now,” you said, your voice low now, almost husky. “You mustn’t keep me waiting.”

You did not intend the phrase to sound… suggestive, but perhaps your emotions were beginning to cloud your better judgment, and now every word you spoke betrayed you. 

“I won’t,” he replied, a barely audible crack in his voice, though you chalked it up to his already raspy way of speaking. “Be right back.”

Before leaving, he took up the splitting maul he kept beside the door, a burst of cold from the spring night air chilling you for a moment as the door swung shut. Absent-mindedly, you found yourself studying the stew as you stirred it. You tilted your head in amused curiosity at the simple, yet appetizing, concoction. Whatever mix of herbs Daryl had thrown together had created a pleasant kind of aroma that filled the small one-room cottage with a comforting warmth.

A mischievous grin spread across your face as you thought to taste a bit of the stew before Daryl came back. Afterall, it couldn’t hurt to get a small sampling. Careful to get a little bit of everything in your spoonful, you purposefully sought out a large chunk of perfectly cooked-through venison. Raising the large wooden spoon to your pursed lips, you tasted the warm soup, letting it sit on your tongue for a few thoughtful moments as you attempted to study every flavor and texture. 

Though the stew was undoubtedly delicious, it was still missing something. You’d seen Daryl sprinkle several different herbs and spices, but it lacked the savory, peppery taste of one of your favorite herbs: sage. 

There was a tall wooden pantry across the room, where Daryl had stored most of his dry ingredients. You quickly crossed to the cabinet, your eyes looking back every few moments to keep an eye on the rolling boil of the stew. The pantry doors opened with a creak, you biting your lip and furrowing your brow as you scanned the dim shelves for the dried herb you sought. Daryl had an impressive selection of both culinary and medicinal ingredients, each jarred in their own glasses with a label of faded paper glued to its side, indicating the ingredients’ names. You’d pushed back several jars, all of which weren’t the dried sage you were looking for. 

He had everything—rosemary, saffron, ginger, grains of paradise, cloves, parsley, cinnamon, spikenard, alecost, thyme, southernwood… Everything but sage. “Good heavens, sage cannot be that difficult to come by, can it?” you spoke to yourself. “Sage… Sage…” You began to impatiently rearrange the jars, rereading each one a few times to ensure you weren’t going mad, though it began to feel like it. “How could he not have—”

You’d reached the back of the dusty old shelf, where no more pesky jars of spices and herbs could taunt you. Instead, a lone small chest of plain cedarwood sat undisturbed against the back wall of the cupboard. It wouldn’t have fazed you, as you’d most logically assume it was just another container for some special exotic spice, but what had silenced you and your mumbled self-ramblings was the chain of iridescent white pearls that poured out from the little chest, rendering the lid slightly ajar, but just open enough for your to catch a brief sparkle twinkling in the darkness. 

And those pearls… You recognized them.

They weren’t cheap freshwater pearls, the kind you could get from any silver-tongued peddler on the street in Alexandria’s market district. No, they were distinctive… Their luster and nearly perfect roundness betraying their expensive nature. Akoya pearls, you recalled the explorer saying. It was not long before the Scourge broke out, when you were just fifteen. The only jewels you had kept now were those inherited from your mother or family heirlooms. The pearls were beautiful, and they were important to you, but they were sacrifices you had made in the name of gratitude for the knight’s kindness.

You gave them to him, but under the impression that he’d sell them.

Why would he keep this?

But it wasn’t just one necklace, no. The faint glimmer of light from deep within the box enticed you, leading you to lift the lid, despite your high-society etiquette telling you that snooping around in other people’s things was hardly becoming behavior. You believed, though, that you had a right to see. That was once your necklace, after all.

There was more, just as you’d suspected. The box was brimming with a colorful assortment of precious jewels from your collection, all of which you’d had distinct memories of gifting to the knight after each excursion he’d accompanied you on. Pulling the box forward, you stared wide-eyed as you rummaged through, recognizing each and every piece—the pair of pearl and amethyst earrings, the ruby and silver brooch, the gilded ring of jade with an intricate claw setting, the red coral rosary given to you at your first Holy Communion, the repoussé chaplet set with refined diamonds and sapphires… Each trinket was unique, and undeniably yours. 

There were a few possible explanations you could think of. The first explanation, and the most logical, was that Sir Daryl was saving your jewels for a rainy day, intent on selling them all together for a larger sum. The second, and the most amusing to you, was that he was wearing the jewelry himself, and he was hiding them to spare himself the embarrassment. The third, and the most worrisome, was that there was a lady he was intent upon giving your jewelry to, or at least that he was keeping the jewels in the event that he would find a lady to woo. This thought made your heart race, but not in the way it usually did when the knight crossed your mind. 

But all these explanations were useless to you. There was no way of knowing now exactly why he kept your jewelry. Perhaps it meant nothing at all, but you couldn’t let it go. You needed to know, otherwise you’d never think clearly again. Without your sage, you replaced the chest and its contents to close the cupboard and return to the boiling pot, though not without a nervous pitter patter in your chest.

You were startled from your thoughts with a jump and a gasp when the knight kicked open the front door, a pile of freshly cut logs in his arms. He cursed himself for his lack of grace. 

“Y’all right?” he asked, keeping a concerned eye on you as he crossed to the hearth to prepare the fire. 

“Fine,” you replied with a nod. “Stew’s ready, I think.”

He furrowed his brow at that statement, then responded with a slight chuckle to his voice. “How do you know?”

“I tasted it,” you said. “It’s ready.”

“Yes, your highness,” he replied with a huff, amused by your certainty. 

At length, he procured two wooden bowls and two silver spoons, the both of you settling for casual seating in front of the hearth, sitting upon the floor cushions with criss-crossed legs and a strange silence between you. Silences like this were uncommon. Of course, whenever it was quiet between you, there was always this presence of heaviness, as though something needed to be said by one of you, or both, but right now, there was no comfort to it. Now, the weight had become so unbearable that there would be no comfort to this usually pleasant silence until one of you spoke. 

And it had to be you. You were the one who had seen the chest, who knew now that Daryl kept all those payments for whatever reason instead of cashing them in. You had to know why, there was no other way around it. 

You only hoped he wouldn’t resent you for it.

“Daryl?” You let your spoon clink against the side of the wooden bowl as you relished the recent aftertaste of the savory soup. “May I ask you something?”

He was hoping you would. He’d spent enough time with you, had known all your habits and quirks and idiosyncrasies, that he knew when there was something on your mind. Given the weight of this silence, it must’ve been important.

“Yeah.” He wiped his lips with the sleeve of his off-white chemise. You took extra care not to become distracted by the crop of pale brown, wiry chest hairs just barely visible at his loosely laced up collar.

Without even noticing, you licked your lips as you thought of what to say, hoping he wouldn’t be offended. Afterall, you’d gone snooping about in his pantry. Still, you believed you had a right to know.

To focus on your words, you set your near-empty bowl on the stone edge of the hearth. You straightened to sit up taller, your hands carefully folded in your lap. You looked like the picture of a princess, except in your eyes. They were downturned, as you couldn’t bear to look him in the eye in case your actions were misconstrued as mischief. “When you were out chopping wood,” you began with a small nervous croak in your voice, “I… Well, I tried the stew, as I said, but I thought it could use some sage, you see, and so I—I looked in your pantry.”

It was then that the knight began to choke on a chunk of venison, having swallowed it too soon with the realization that you could’ve seen his jewelry box, the one he hid because of his embarrassment to admit that he kept those jewels because they were yours. No practical reason at all, just the thought of you, something part of you belonging to him. It was silly, he knew that, but to him, there was a comfort in having those trinkets. If he’d sold them, all he’d have would be measly bits of dirty metal that had been in thousands of different hands and would be in a thousand more. Those jewels were worth more than that. They were once yours. As far as he was concerned, they were still yours. 

The man turned away from you, covering his mouth with the inside of his elbow as he coughed to help the meat pass down his throat. You leaned forward, reaching your hand out to touch his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled between his coughs. “Just… just…”

“Here,” you said, scooting closer to hand him a tankard of water. He waved you off, but he was still hunched over to the side and refusing to face you, both as a result of his embarrassment and his coughing fit. You huffed and spoke more harshly now. “Daryl.”

He knew that voice well enough now to know you were serious. He turned towards you slowly, taking the cup from your hands as he still sputtered our grunts between coughs. “Th—thanks.”

He choked a bit more on the water now, but only because he felt your hand soothing his back in slow, languid, yet careful, movements. “There…” Your voice was smooth and velvety, like sweet whipped cream. With each pass of your hand, you felt the silk fabric of his shirt pucker against your palm. The heat of his body drew you closer subconsciously, til you felt his strong, hard shoulder nearly digging into your chest. Despite your attempt to pull away, it felt too good to rid yourself of his closeness. “Better?”

With the delicate pressure of your hand caressing him, of course he felt better. He grunted in acknowledgement as he nodded, setting the tankard on the floor beside him. “Yeah… Please forgive me.”

You shook your head and laughed at that. “For what? Swallowing your food too fast?”

He felt like a blubbering fool, wiping his lips and chuckling under his breath to match your contagious giggles. But then, with a diminuendo of laughter, he realized he’d interrupted you, and he needed to know now what you were going to say, just in case you did see his hidden treasure. Well, your hidden treasure. 

“For interrupting you,” he said. “You were sayin’ something… D’ya find the sage?”

He knew full well there was no sage in that pantry. He’d run out just a few days prior.

“Oh,” you sighed. “Well, no, I…” 

You’d made the grave mistake of lifting your wide eyes to meet his, though the both of you were trying to hide your gaze from one another. It was inevitable that they would meet at some point this evening, but now that they had, you could not bear to look away, neither could he. For several moments, you could not even blink for fear of missing him and his deep, almost dark blue eyes, filled with the mystery of something nearly inscrutable, but not impossible to figure out. In fact, the more you looked, you swore you got closer to finding the answers to all the questions in his eyes. 

“Daryl,” you started again, this time holding his gaze with a nervous, fluttering blink of your curled eyelashes. “Why… Why have you not sold the jewelry I paid you with?”

There were many replies he could have made, but the only one that was remotely coherent was the one with the fewest number of words: Because I love you. 

Several heavy moments passed in silence, with only the crackling of the now roaring hearthfire filling the space where words might’ve existed if only he had the courage to speak without thinking first in this moment. This, however, was a delicate situation, and he could not face it with the usual impulsivity and carelessness that he might’ve had in other situations. 

There was a contradictory sense of both a need to profess his love to you and a need to brush it off with some lie, but how could he lie to you, his sweet princess? You were worth so much more than that to him, so much more than a paltry lie, but you were also worth more than every jewel in that box. 

“You, uh… You saw that?”

Your shoulders shrugged as you smiled bashfully. Daryl’s cheeks seemed to heat up, too. “I did. I know I had no right to look, but with the gold those jewels are worth, you could purchase your own manor and petition to become a lord. My father would happily grant you that position, I’m sure. You would not have to be a vassal. Of course, it is your property to do with as you wish, but I cannot help but wonder why.”

Titles and property were of no consequence to Daryl. They never meant much. He grew up with next to nothing, raised by poor merchants who struggled to buy a single loaf of bread. Perhaps one would think that growing up so poor would make him value money, but it was quite the opposite. It made him hate it, how it could make or break a man. No, what you gave to him was worth so much more.

“I—” He paused to think more thoroughly about what he was to say, but there was no way around it. He had to say it. “I couldn’t get rid of them. Couldn’t just give ‘em to somebody else.”

Though his words seemed sentimental, his eyes still strayed from you. Leaning forward, your heart aching with a desperate hope, you tried to coerce his eyes to meet yours. Your hand still traced invisible shapes across the broad expanse of his back. 

“Why?” You wondered if perhaps your secret fourth explanation had been correct. The more he stalled, you began to realize that it was. “Daryl…” Your other hand lifted cautiously, its movements foreign to you as your fingers delicately cradled his chin, then brought his head up until those soft, deep blue eyes greeted you. Perhaps you were torturing him, begging him to admit his feelings despite his fear, but you needed his words. That was all you’d need. You smiled to comfort him as you spoke. “Why could you not bear to sell my jewels?”

Your touch was in two places now—his back and his chin. Both points of contact were burning, a fire that spread through him and touched him in places he didn’t dare even think of at this moment. Your touch was innocent, it had to be. He wouldn’t let himself believe otherwise. His task was to keep you safe, to never let harm come your way. Indulging in his desires, no matter how much he wanted to, would only take advantage of the trust you and your father had in him. But, oh… The way your chest heaved against his shoulder. You were so close. So incredibly close. Almost as close as he’d imagined, in his darkened bedroom where his sordid thoughts took root. Even his dreams were full of visions of you, hazy and ethereal, like you were made of clouds. So soft, so warm.

“Daryl?” you pressed again. “Won’t you answer me, please?”

“It’s wrong,” he said quickly. “It’s all wrong.”

“No, it is not.”

“I just couldn’t… Couldn’t give part of you away.”

“Part of me?”

“Part of you,” he repeated. “Someone else, with a part of you… I can’t let anyone else have you. Those things belonged to you, so they’re precious to me. You’re precious to me.”

There. That was enough. Enough for you to know the truth, enough for you to lean even closer, your eyes nearly closed despite a sliver of vision focused on his lips, slightly agape and quivering. With your hand still holding his chin, you pulled him closer, too, his body and mind paralyzed for a moment, rendered helpless by you. 

But for a moment, when your lips were just an inch or two from his, you fluttered your eyes open to meet his. “My knight,” you whispered, the soft wind of your breath tickling his aching lips. “Kiss me.”

“I—I can’t.”

“Yes, you can…” Just like that, you spoke in your most regal tone of authority, the same you’d used to threaten to have Negan executed, though this time, a little more sultry. “I am your princess, and you will do as I say, knight.”

Yes, your highness. 

With a burst of desperation rising up in his abdomen, he leaned forward to close the gap between you, not just at your lips, but at every part of you. His hands grasped hard at your waist, pulling you nearly onto his lap. Your chest was pressed so tight against his that you gasped for breath from his mouth as he kissed you, heavy breaths exhaling from his nostrils like a wild animal just freed from its cage. 

You felt one hand wildly rise up your back and tangle in your hair, loosening the lone braid at the back of your head, until cascades of hair hung freely over your shoulders and back. Your hands had no choice but to cling tight to his shoulders as his hands explored you to the extent he would allow himself, though it felt so wonderful that you wished he’d unrestrain himself even more. Just when you started to think he was becoming more unhindered, his hand slowly melting down your lower back and inching closer to your bottom, he stopped himself.

His mouth tore away from you, the cold of the night air stinging your moistened lips as they trembled, and you felt your throat already begin to swallow back a lump. “What is it?”

His hands were still on you, but he panted as he looked worryingly at you, his head shaking as if to reprimand himself, though he couldn’t hide his blown out pupils and the increasingly noticeable hardness of his lap. Still, you feared he’d deny you. 

“I can’t control myself,” he said. “If we… kept goin’…”

“I want to keep going,” you said. Your hands moved to grasp at his shirt collar, where your fingers began to undo his lace. “I want whatever you would do.”

“You don’t know what you want,” he said. “You don’t want me, princess.”

“I do want you, knight.”

“You can’t. I can’t. If your father—”

“I love you.”

He fell silent. Scared. Not of your words, but of himself, of what hearing those words in your voice did to him. They ignited a deeper, inextinguishable fire. 

“Don’t say what ya don’t mean, milady.”

A single shiny tear glimmered as it rolled down your soft rouged cheek, settling into the corner of your mouth. You weren’t sure exactly why you began to cry. Perhaps it was the idea of rejection, or the thought of Sir Negan taking you away before promising yourself to the only man you’d ever cared for, but one thing was certain: your love for him was strong enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

“I do not say things I do not mean, Sir Daryl. When I say I love you, I am speaking from my heart, and my heart would not lead me astray. I love you, and that is the truth.”

And it was his truth, too. Now, your words were enough to convince him.

He lowered his eyes, his lips turned stern. It was an earnest, serious gaze. He said what he’d been thinking for months, what he would never stop thinking no matter what. He would always love you. He would always do anything for you. It was time he made it known. “I love you.”

It was simple when he said it, but you knew it to be true by the way his hands clung tighter to your waist. Hesitantly, he raised his right hand, allowing the back of it to caress your cheek. His touch was rough, but only because of his worn skin. The way he moved was soft, gentle, sweet. Even in his evident lust, he still touched you with the innocence of a white daisy’s petals brushing against your skin. 

Hesitantly, he let his lips ghost your other cheek as you exhaled a heavy breath against his neck. “Daryl,” you whispered. He kissed your skin, his lips spread open and tongue just barely stretching out to tickle you. As he moved his mouth lower, dragging sloppy kisses along your jawline, his arms wrapped fully around you, tugging you against him. Your hands held tight to his shoulder blades, and you felt them flex and jolt with each movement he made as his lips met yours again. This time, his tongue breached the entrance to your mouth, finding yours and almost attacking it. In your inexperience, you only gasped against his lips, then jutted out your own tongue in an attempt to keep up with him. 

“Daryl,” you panted between his kisses. He grunted under his breath, still indulging in your taste. With your fingers on his cheeks, you pulled back for a moment, looking into his darkened eyes. You’d never seen his eyes like that before. It almost frightened you, but mostly, it only made you realize exactly what you wanted. “I want you to take my maidenhead.”

Of course, he wanted to. It wasn’t a question of whether or not he wanted to, it was a question of whether or not he should, and he knew he shouldn’t. He knew such a thing was against his code, perhaps the most egregious way to break it. The law of chivalry held all knights to a certain standard, a law that governed their every action. Sleeping with the daughter of the king he served, much less taking her virginity, would certainly be cause for execution.

“I can’t,” he said, though his eyes portrayed another answer. “You know I can’t.” You shook your head, opening your mouth to latch onto his jawline, kissing him as he’d kissed you. He muttered your name, though he could not tear you away, your sweet lips wetting his skin as your hand combed through his hair. “It would…” 

Your hand lowered to his chest, grasping at his bare skin underneath his chemise. Your fingers seemed to tremble, your body not knowing what to do without his guidance. He grasped at your hand, though he did not push you away. He kept it there, keeping it steady. He turned to face your lips, and they trembled, too. To steady them, he raised his thumb to your plump bottom lip, moving it gently side to side. It felt like sacrilege to touch you like this, but it also felt like the most holy, sacred kind of worship. 

“It would be wrong. I’m not your husband. It would be against… Against my code of chivalry.” 

It nearly made you laugh. “You’ve already disobeyed my father and taken me outside the castle walls into walker-infested woods. You’ve done a hundred things that broke your code.” 

Leaning ever closer, you pressed your soft chest against his firm one, the heat rising between your bodies almost as strong as the roaring hearthfire that painted his face in rich, warm burnt oranges and browns. The smile on your face curled delicately as you brushed aside the curtains of his hair till they were pinned behind his ears. In this light, his face was both worn yet youthful, like an old painting of a young man. 

In a hushed, honeyed voice, you whispered against his cheek, “What’s one more?” Innocent lips coated with that floral musky balm grazed his stubbly cheek. It was not scratchy, though, it was soft and ticklish, like how your fingers felt on his chest.

For a long, torturous moment, he only held you close, his grip still tight on your waist. He leaned into your kiss, though he still was trying to cling to the last thread of chivalrous honor he had within him. That rope was threadbare, though, with only a fiber or two to hold on to, and the more your lips grazed his skin, trailing to his neck in clumsy, inexperienced movements, you felt his hand return to your hair to tangle itself in your now tousled locks. 

The low, dulcet moan escaping your lips marked the moment the tether snapped, and no longer could he say he had any respect for a code of conduct that left him bereft of your body and the pleasure he could give you, as your servant, your escort, your knight. 

With a throaty grunt, he took your mouth in his, devouring it much more deeply than he had before. There was no cautiousness now in his embrace, his hands lowering to cup both sides of your bottom as he lifted you more fully to his lap, with his legs outstretched underneath you. 

Both of you became engulfed in a tangle of limbs, furiously clawing at each other like you were both tearing at your own flesh to escape from its confines. Yourself now made taller than him as you sat upon his lap, you parted from his lips for a moment to look down at him, panting and lips shiny from your saliva, and made plump and red by his impassioned kiss. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking up at you with hazy, dark eyes. Indeed, you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever had the chance to behold. Sometimes, he did not even think himself worthy to utter your name, or to have his name uttered by you… You in your sweetness and kindness and sensitivity and grace and—

Your small laugh reawakened him. How dare he even begin to wax poetic about you in his own head when you were in his arms now, your hands on his shoulders and your chest heaving with each beautiful breath. To know you were so alive, warm and trembling in his strong arms, safe and protected… That was the greatest pleasure of all.

And yet, the carnal desire for you was quick to overwhelm him. He squeezed you tighter before leaning forward, taking you with him. “Mm!” you laughed against his lips as he kissed you. 

How he could be so gentle and yet so strong you did not know. With your back arched and your head cradled by his hands, you felt the support of your floor pillow underneath you, your legs now wrapped around his waist. 

Propping himself up by his arms to look at you, he gazed in awe, your hair sprawled out from your head in every which way like an angel’s halo made from a sunburst. Where your gown of sage green silk brocade met your breasts, he let his gaze linger. Finally. Without the worries of being improper, he could admire the gentle, supple curves of your décolletage. 

And now your gown sank down to your upper thighs, exposing much more skin than he’d ever seen—or felt. He sat up straight, his hand gently petting your soft bare calf, then moving down slowly, torturously, to touch your thigh. 

Never had you been touched like this. Not even by yourself. In fact, you felt rather foolish, stiffening a bit as your eyes widened the more he moved his hand, now lifting up the rest of your skirt.

“Daryl…” you all but whined, a moan somewhere between a begging lust and a nervous embarrassment. “I know nothing,” you said simply. “I—I—”

Your own gasp cut short your stuttering admission. “Oh.”

All you could feel was his hand cupping your mound, now completely exposed without the cover of your gown. 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, each fold and crevice and speckling of your dainty hairs that matched perfectly the locks on your head. In fact, he ran his fingers through the little forest above your womanhood. It was soft, warm, untouched until now.

“You’re beautiful,” he spoke again. “Very… royal.”

“Royal?”

He laughed under his breath, biting his lip as he trailed his pointer finger around your lips, tickling you as you writhed a little. “Everything about you,” he said. “Even this… So perfect and clean and royal.”

Flushed with rose-tinted clouds of excitement and shyness, you rolled your shoulders as you watched him lick his pretty pink lips, over and over. “Have you seen many women like this, sir?”

He returned his gaze to yours with a raised, mischievous brow. Sir had never sounded so intoxicating as it did now. “None as sweet and virtuous as you.”

Indeed, he slightly feared his first movements towards intercourse. Never before had he taken a maiden’s virginity, and he was sure he’d hurt you if he was too hasty. He would have to tread carefully, though the subtle glisten of your entrance beckoned him, and those soft, intricate folds of supple flesh sparked a fire in him he’d never felt before. This was the image he’d dreamed of—your untouched womanhood naked before him, just waiting for him to release you from the bonds of chastity forevermore. 

And, oh, that moan, of which he had only gotten a sampling of. He needed more, he needed to be drowned in that sound. He needed to be the one who showed you the carnal pleasure of love, and to experience it himself, too. It would be the most potent kind of intimacy, and he wanted the both of you to be consumed by it. Together.

All he could think of, all he wanted to do, was get a mouthful of you. Drink from the fountain that was your body. 

“Can I… taste you?”

A genuine expression of innocent confusion spread across your face. “Kiss me?” Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips gently pursed, prepared to receive his sweet kiss.

“Nah, not like that,” he said, a subtle laugh under his low, gruff voice. Two calloused fingertips grazed the top junction of your lips, where an almost overwhelming tingle spread through you. Then, his fingers moved apart as they descended slowly, spreading you open. The reddish, taught flesh seemed to pulse on its own accord as your breath shuddered and your eyes widened at the strange feeling. “Here. I wanna taste you here.”

Finally understanding, and yet not understanding at all, you looked up at him with a furrowed look of concern. “Why? Is that not… unsanitary?”

An amused grin spread across his face. “Looks clean to me… They bathe you good, my princess.”

His princess. Oh, that sent an entirely new shiver through you.

But only with your permission would he do such a thing. Only with your word would he let his common tongue invade your royal maidenhead. 

So he’d beg for it, like he knew he should.

“Please,” he said, voice sweeter and softer than you’d ever heard. He even lowered himself, his lips hovering above your navel as he looked up at you with those crystal clear eyes. “Please, your highness… I will be gentle.” His hands held firm to your thighs, rubbing them softly, up and down. When his lips met your abdomen, just below your navel, you sighed unexpectedly, and he could feel your heat.

“I’ll beg for it.” The reverberations of his rough voice tickled your lower stomach. He dragged his lips progressively lower, to where the hairs upon your mound began. A trail of kisses began to form between each mumbled plea. 

“I’ll beg to taste you…” Kiss. “Lick you…” Kiss. “I’m beggin’…” Kiss. “Let me taste how perfect my sweet princess is.”

Though you were still puzzled by his desire to kiss you there, you decided to oblige, especially as the strange tickly feeling became more and more intense with each kiss he bestowed upon your mound. Somehow, his begging even excited you. 

“Yes,” you sighed. Blindly, you reached for him, your hands tangling in his chestnut colored hair, strands messy and wild. The ends of those locks tickled your skin as they hung around his face, dragging with each movement of his mouth downwards. “You may taste me… Though I do not understand why you want to, sir.” You laughed as you looked down at him, kissing the soft little hairs you always found to be unsightly, but it was not in vogue to shave, of course. At least, not for a lady of your status. He seemed to like it, though. “You are rather strange,” you teased. “Do you think I will taste nice?”

“Know you will,” he said, and you watched as he wetted his fingers with his tongue, then circled them over your now puffy lips. 

With a little gasp, you giggled girlishly at his touch. It was all so strange to you, but it felt nice. You’d had no idea this part of you was so sensitive, as you’d never bothered to touch it besides your daily baths. Even then, you hardly touched yourself only to clean, and when you felt an unfamiliar tingle as you’d slide your wet hand between those little folds of sensitive skin, you’d quickly pull away. All you knew of that part of you was that it was for your future husband, and you’d never cared much for trying to find one, especially since the world was the way it was. 

Now, you could only dream of a husband like him, the knight who lowered himself once more, slotting his head between your bare thighs. His hands holding them, he coerced your legs to spread wider, allowing that crevice to widen and open the small fleshy hole. He could already tell you’d never even touched yourself, your entrance half-obstructed by a small stretch of skin-colored tissue—your maidenhead.

He’d not touch that for now, instead only focused on slowly licking a stripe up your open slit, marking his first taste of you. 

There was a strong reverberation that jolted through you, causing your legs to flinch closed, Daryl’s head now sandwiched between the fat of your thighs. “Oh!” you cried out, back involuntarily arched against the cushion and hands tangled further in his hair until your fingernails clawed at his scalp. There was a muffled growl between your legs in response. At first, you assumed you’d hurt him. “Oh, I—I am sorry, my love…” you sputtered, almost with a nervous laugh at your sensitivity, and massaging his scalp more gently now. “Did I hurt you?”

On the contrary, your scratching and pulling and squeezing only excited him. He did not answer your question, only pressing his face harder against you, smothering his nose and mouth between your folds, wettened by his saliva. If he suffocated between your legs, he’d die happy, as the taste was intoxicating, sweeter than the finest honey wine he’d ever had, and the feeling a more lovely warmth than the hearth that illuminated the dim cottage with that dreamy glow. 

With a renewed lust, he moved his head wildly, licking up and down and swirling in tight circles round the bundle of nerves above the entrance. It seemed to elicit the most beautiful moans and gasps and sighs from your pretty mouth, of which he often took a glimpse when he raised his eyes to admire your innocent beauty. 

And though he could lick you like this for hours on end, he’d grown desperate to taste you deeper, just a little. So he parted your legs with a jolt. “Keep ‘em open,” he ordered, voice more hoarse and throaty and deep than before. His desire was becoming more urgent, more primitive as the very last of his decency was chiseled away by his need. “I want more of this pretty cunt.”

You nearly gasped at the vulgar word, having only heard it once or twice in your presence—both times from a slightly inebriated Lady Margaret, who used it to pejoratively refer to Lady Caroline behind her back, but now you knew where it came from. It sounded devilishly dulcet on his low, panting voice. 

Legs spread further apart, he caught another glimpse of that hole, coated in a sparkling sheen that was damp to the touch. The corner of his lip lifted slightly as he spoke. “You’re gettin’ wet,” he said, much to your confusion. “D’ya like what I’m doin’ to you, princess?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered. His fingertip traced the rim of your wet entrance. 

Before he dove down once more, he couldn’t help but just admire the beauty of your womanhood with his eyes. He felt a sudden wave of unworthiness well up in him. After all, this sight was never for him. It was forbidden, and yet, you’d decided he was worthy to have you. 

You, his lady, his mistress, his princess, his queen. In every sense of the word, you ruled him, and he had no choice but to bask in the glory of your trembling body, every inch perfect and unique and, soon, his. 

He’d make you his, but first he had to make him yours. 

“Oh!” His lips spread open wide to envelope the hole, where his tongue flattened out to lick at the source of your arousal. All you could feel was his long tongue poking inside you, wiggling to adjust to how small the entrance was. 

Meanwhile, the tip of his soft button nose pressed up against your most sensitive spot, where a fresh tingle surged through you. To get a better angle, he slid both hands underneath your bare rump, pulling your body closer and angling your core upwards as your legs found their home upon his shoulders, just the perfect width to accommodate your thighs.

“That’s it,” he spoke against your inner thigh, where he left a series of frantic, desperate little kisses. They weren’t just lustful, but affectionate, as though he was bestowing these kisses to reward you for your obedience. “Sweet royal cunt.”

That word again made you flinch, or perhaps it was the suction of his lips around that bundle of nerves that pleased you so.

“Y-you’re so vulgar,” you sighed with a gentle laugh rolling under your voice. “Where… is my gallant knight?” 

“Between your pretty legs, milady.”

His tongue wiggled in spastic movements between his lips, reddening and engorging the sensitive spot as a strange tightening feeling formed in your lower belly. Unbeknownst to you, the walls of your passage squeezed involuntarily around the empty space inside you. In this moment, you never felt more empty, in fact. All you wanted, the longer his mouth devoured you, was to somehow feel whole. 

“Please!” you cried out, voice strained and high-pitched with a desperate plea for him to satisfy you, somehow. You did not know how, but you needed it, whatever it was. “Oh, I…”

The knight knew what you needed, and he needed it, too, but you were so close to ultimate pleasure. The wetter you became, the more of his saliva that soaked into your crevices and your increasingly gaping entrance, the more your body would accept his. That much he knew.

But the feeling was so powerful, so overwhelming. Each burst of pleasure erupted within you, like a volcano that had lain dormant for a millenia or two, and only now was that red hot magma spewing forth, until one final eruption would leave you satisfied. It terrified you. Was this normal? Surely a woman should not feel such euphoria. All you’d known of your womb was the pain and shame of that period in which blood would flow from you. You’d been told it was divine punishment for women. Eve’s betrayal, the fall of Eden… Why should you pay for that? Now, there was only pleasure, no pain. 

The pleasure, though, was so intense, so frightful, that you panicked, your thighs clenching tight round his head once more as your back arched in agonizing bliss, his tongue now thrusting into you again. “Oh!” you cried out. “I… Wh-what… Daryl, I’m frightened!”

His eyes flashed up to look at you. “What is it?” he asked. He tore himself away from you, while his hand reached up to cradle your trembling cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I…” Gasping for air, you writhed and wriggled underneath him, squeezing your thighs together as if to provide some relief. “I do not know… I feel so strange.”

Tears trickled down your cheek, and the knight’s brows furrowed in concern. He brushed a few away with his fingers. “Why’re ya cryin’, girl?”

And you knew now why, as your hips gyrated and bucked up towards him, as if demanding for him to return to you. The sensation was just so strong, but so lovely. “Please,” you whimpered. “Do not stop.”

Now he knew, too. A laugh forced his mouth into a wide grin. “Oh, I see,” he said, hands moving achingly slowly back down to your thighs. He spread them apart again, a feeling which made your breath hitch for a moment. “Feels good, doesn’t it? My tongue…”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Please, more.”

And so he gave you more, his mouth quickly returning to that puffy, reddened flesh between your thighs, eliciting from you a visceral moan as your head fell back against the cushion. “Ah!” you cried out.

After the brief period in which he’d separated from you, you now felt the sensation returning, this time even more intense. Sounds of wet flesh being licked and sucked and kissed surrounded you, accompanied by soft, muffled groans from your knight. 

How he’d wanted this for so long, to have your taste and to feel your restless, writhing body involuntarily grinding against his tongue. For a moment, he pulled your outer lips further apart, allowing more direct exposure to the now throbbing, swollen protrusion that gave you so much pleasure. He sucked at that flesh again, this time bringing his finger to the hole that begged to be filled. 

“Oh, oh!” His finger breached the entrance, just a few centimeters, but enough to stretch you more than you’d been stretched open ever before. “My god!”

“Come,” his voice murmured between furious sucking. “Come, my princess. I want you to come.”

“C-come… Where?”

“On my face,” he laughed. 

“Wh-what… are you… talking about?”

The vibration of his laughter tickled your flesh. “You’re too innocent,” he said. “You’ll see what I mean.”

He knew you must be close, so it did not take much more effort to get you to the brink of orgasm. All he needed to do was curl his finger upwards inside you as he swirled his tongue with more pressure, practically digging a brand new hole with the tip of his tongue. 

And, with your hands shooting out to claw at his shoulders, the tingling and tightening and tickling finally reached its peak as the feeling of the final, strongest eruption came forth, exploding from the pit of your abdomen and spreading throughout every cell in your hot, squirming body. 

Moans of his name were falling softly, repeatedly from your lips, where bite marks had embedded themselves after several minutes of your teeth digging into the skin. He’d never heard his name being spoken so much, so sweetly and with so much bliss. After all, it was the name of the person who’d given you the greatest feeling you’d ever experienced. 

You were left jolting, your body gently rocking up against his face, which was still buried between your lips as his tongue gathered every drop of the arousal that slowly dripped from you. His own arousal caught up with him, too, a noticeable feeling of a strain, and a tightening in his chausses. 

Panting and moaning under your labored breaths, you felt the pleasure begin to die down as his lips praised you with small kisses all over the outside of your pulsing entrance. Deviously, he stuck his tongue out to deliver short, sweet licks to your still throbbing bundle of nerves. 

A soft, delirious giggle erupted from your lips as your fingers tangled in his disheveled hair. All you could see was his head bobbing between your legs, and all you could hear was the crackle of the hearthfire and the sounds of his pursed lips kissing your wet folds. Feeling his finger curling at the shallow part of you, you squeezed on purpose, much to his amusement. 

“I feel ya,” he mumbled. “You feel so good.”

“Daryl.” Your hands grasped both sides of his head with some pressure, as if to pull him up. “Come here.”

He let you guide his head until his lips met yours and your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, weighing him down. His body weight covered you completely, a sensation which excited him even more. 

On your lips, you tasted yourself, his tongue and lips now coated with your arousal. “What did you do to me?” you asked between his kiss. “Your tongue is magical… Some kind of wicked sorcery.”

His laughter tickled your cheek as he kissed you there. “I jus’ made ya come,” he said simply. “S’why you’re so wet down there now. Got you all ready.” His hands raised up to tug on the collar of your dress, as if trying to yank it off you.

“Ready for what?” you laughed, though you had a few ideas of what he could be referring to, as innocent as you were, but you hadn’t heard the word he’d said next before. 

“For my cock.”

In genuine confusion, you furrowed your brow. “You have a rooster?”

“Yeah.” The mischievous, lop-sided smirk on his face as his finger traced your jawline told you he was messing with you. “I’ve got a big, red rooster.”

“Oh?” you said, playing along with him despite your ignorance. “Well, won’t you introduce me to your rooster?”

By now, you knew what he meant.

When he dragged your hand down to his clothed erection, a deep blush bloomed upon your cheeks. “Oh,” you sighed. “Hello, rooster.”

To say you hadn’t thought of it before would be a lie. Of course you had. While you did not know much about sex, or that part of the male anatomy, you knew that part of a man was meant for that complimentary part of a woman. You knew that was the part of him that would put a child in your womb, though you knew not the exact details of the whole ordeal. 

Interrupting your thoughts of his “rooster,” you were suddenly lifted from the ground and tangled in his arms, with your feet dangling off the ground as he dragged you towards the hay-stuffed mattress you’d rested upon a few times before. You exclaimed a laughing, “Daryl!” before being laid gently, yet almost impatiently, upon the bed. 

You propped yourself up on your elbows to see him at the foot of the bed, lifting his shirt above his head as he panted. 

Eyes wide, you felt your heart thump in your chest when his broad frame was bare before you, his chest just as bulky and strong and wide as you’d imagined. Your eyes were drawn to the charming smattering of little hairs, and the small pink nipples that hardened against the air. 

You couldn’t help but follow the trail of those same hairs that began at his navel and led down to the waistband of his pants, which he began to untie frantically. Meanwhile, your mouth fell agape at the shape of his… cock, you supposed it was called—so big it looked like it could rip through the cotton of his chausses at any second. 

Involuntarily, your thighs rubbed themselves together, where you could now feel your own wetness seeping from you. Seeing the size of his cock, now you knew why you’d need to be wet.

Just like that, he was naked, his cock springing up as soon as he pulled his pants down enough. It nearly startled you, almost eliciting a gasp. Never had you seen something so… odd. You couldn’t even wrap your head around the testicles just yet. 

But he left you hardly any time to think about the new body parts you were faced with. Instead, he laid himself down on his side next to you, his hands rubbing up and down your arms. The motion soothed you, though his dark, lusty stare made you shiver.

“Sit up for me,” he said. You did as he told you, as an unspoken dynamic had appeared: he would lead you, as you were much too inexperienced to know your way around this territory.

And yet, he was not forceful, nor domineering. Indeed, he knew you were still his princess, his ruler. He knew that you held the utmost power over him, and that whatever you’d say, he would have to do it. There was no mistake of who was ultimately in charge, whose body he was compelled to worship and please. Still, he’d lead you physically. 

Now sitting up, he scooted back to unlace the back of your gown, each silk knot coming undone with a beautiful cascade of fabric, until your back was nude, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your spine.

He pulled on your sleeves gently, but with a noticeable waning of his patience. “Lay back now,” he said. Like a mindless servant, you obeyed him. 

Your surcoat was loose enough to pull off you now, so he did, letting the expensive garment sink to the floor. Now, your kirtle, which he pulled over your head, manipulating your body like a rag doll. With each movement he made, another sweaty, glistening muscle flexed under that tan, workworn skin, stretching across which were many faded scars from battles and jousts and God only knew what else. 

Lastly, your chemise kept him from your supple nude body, so he pulled it off with a slight growl under his breath. Now, you laid back fully, your completely divested skin meeting the thick, buttery soft pelt of the fur blanket beneath you. 

Your body was a sight to behold, so marvelous that he stood up again, stepping back to let his eyes roam all over you. 

It was enough to bring him to knees, literally. He sunk to the floor, where he attached his lips to your ankle, which had caused him some trouble in the past. The many times he’d caught sight of your ankle, he felt perverted, sinful. Then your calf, soft and smooth against his lips. He covered as much skin as he could in his kisses, then he reached your knee, and your thighs, where he spread apart your legs to leave more kisses at your womanhood.

“You’re insatiable,” you laughed, watching as his lips trailed through the hairs on your mound. “You cannot kiss every part of my body, sir.”

“I can try.”

His tongue circled around your navel, then he continued his kisses to the slope of your left breast, where he quickly latched to your nipple, causing you to flinch at the new feeling. 

His other hand found your other breast, squeezing it just enough to make you gasp a little. After all, with his lips and hands worshiping your entire body, you weren’t sure how else to react. 

“You’re so perfect,” he mumbled against the pillowy surface of your breast. “I’d die for you.”

Even the thought made you shiver and cling to his flexing shoulder blades. “N-no, my love… Do not say such a thing. My… my heart c-could not bear to even think of it.”

“I’d kill for you,” he said now. “I’ll do anythin’ you ask of me… I belong to you.”

As you processed his pledge, you hadn’t even noticed two of his fingers digging into your entrance, spreading you open, little by little. His sweet, raspy voice soothed the pain. 

Now, his lips trailed to your collarbones, where he left dozens of kisses and licks across your skin. 

“I live to serve you,” he whispered. You gasped, not at his words, but at his two thick fingers going deeper, a sound of flesh upon wet flesh. “Only you… My sweet princess.”

“Oh, my sweet knight… Ah…”

A slight tearing feeling at your entrance made you wince in pain, but the knight paused for a moment, nudging his nose against your cheek to get your attention. 

“Am I hurtin’ ya?”

“No, no.” If he stopped, you might die of emptiness. The stretching hurt, but you could not go much longer without him filling the emptiness within you. Once he started, you wouldn’t be able to be without him. 

“Need to stretch your cunt a little,” he said. “My cock’s gonna hurt ya more if I don’t.”

Judging by the size, you believed him. Your eyes were transfixed on the thing as you wondered how in the world he’d get it in your tight hole, but you trusted him to take care of you. 

And you wanted it. You couldn’t explain it, but your need for that big length of flesh, with engorged veins and a droplet or two of clear liquid beading at its reddened tip, was greater than any pain you might’ve felt. 

“I want it, sir,” you practically purred. “Your…”

He smiled against the cheek he was busy kissing. “My rooster?”

“Your cock.” 

He tore his lips away to give you a wide-eyed stare as he tried to fake a serious look of shock, but the upturned corner of his snickering lips betrayed him. 

“Your highness,” he scolded in jest. “Where’d ya learn such a dirty word?” His fingers inched deeper, so deep that your back arched as you laughed a visceral moan. 

“Oh, you scoundrel!” Your hand delivered a very weak slap to his chest.

Pulling his fingers out, he laughed as his hands gripped both of your wrists. His face turned serious, yet still soft. “You think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes, but… I mustn’t have your child now.”

You weren’t totally unaware of the true purpose of sex. In fact, it had been drilled into your head by archbishop Gabriel, whose responsibility seemed to be deterring you and all other maidens at court from engaging in premarital sex that was not for the express purpose of procreation, as such an act would brand one “a whore in the eyes of God.” Conveniently, the archbishop’s sermon had overlooked any consequences for men.

“You won’t,” he assured you. Indeed, he had intimate knowledge of one of the world’s most time-honored methods of contraception: coitus interruptus. “I’ll be careful.”

Removing his fingers from you, he rubbed his palm up and down your slit, spreading the wetness of your arousal all over you. He leaned back for a moment, looking down to spread apart your lips and see your hole, which opened quite a bit wider now for him. Redness pooled around the opening, but you couldn’t notice the dull pain, not when his eyes held yours so intently. “Think you’re ready,” he said. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Don’t stop. “All right, my love.”

The hard, spongy surface of his tip grazed over your clit, and slid with his body as he rolled forward over you. “You ready?”

At this point, the suspense was killing you. Each drag of his length through your sodden flesh was agonizing. Your body grew restless, arching your back up to meet his chest and pull him down. “Yes,” you sighed, then ghosted your lips over his. “Make me yours now. I want to be yours.”

He eased himself in as your mouth latched to his, your whimpers of combined pain and pleasure melting into his kiss. The tip was inside you now, just beginning to stretch you further to meet the wide girth of his thick cock. The slow, tearing feeling was enough to make you bite down on his tongue, nearly drawing blood. He only growled into your mouth, digging his cock deeper.

Your suffocating tightness tested his willpower, his ability to keep himself from moving so fast that he’d lose control of his cock, but it felt so good, so warm and snug. As he sank further into you, he tore his lips free to whisper against your ear, “How ya feel?”

With a deep swallow, you held back your tears. “Fine,” you said. “Just… it hurts a little. Does it fit?”

He looked between your bodies, where half his length was inside you, the other half twitching with bulging veins and redness only darkening. He stayed still, brushing back your tears as you sniffled. “Yeah, it’ll fit. You just need stretched, s’all.”

He pushed himself in a little further as his lips caught another tear. Clawing at his back, you let out a sharp gasp. “Oh! Daryl! It’s too big, you’re too big… I can’t…”

His hand reached down to tickle his fingers against your clit, attempting to ease your pain by giving you more pleasure. He knew his cock would hurt you before it felt good. “Sh… sh… D’ya want me to stop, princess?”

“No, no!” you cried out, nearly startling him. He felt your arms tighten round his back, as if to keep him exactly where he was. “Please don’t stop. I—I…” Tears trickled down more now, like a torrential rain over your cheek. 

He stopped again, this time pulling himself out a little to prop himself up and look at you with the utmost earnestness. “Why are ya cryin’ now? I don’t wanna make you cry. Am I hurtin’ you too much?”

In truth, the physical pain of being stretched by him was not strong enough to elicit these tears. What made you cry, in fact, was the simple truth that tonight, you’d give yourself to your true love, but in a matter of days, Sir Negan would take you away from him, and you might never see him, or your father, or anyone else you loved, ever again. 

To think you may never be here, like this, with him again… It broke your heart, though every cell in your body was demanding for another burst of euphoria. It was all too much emotion, too much stimulation. And yet, you’d never want him to stop. You’d like to be this way forever, if you could. If only you could.

“It’s just… Promise me…”

Furrowed brows contorted his face. He brushed the back of his hand over your cheek. “Promise ya what?” He wasn’t sure of the point of asking, as he knew that he would promise you, his lady, anything anyway. A knight’s ultimate test of chivalry, afterall, was his undying, unyielding, uncompromising devotion to his lady. 

“Promise you won’t forget me.” When Negan takes me, you wanted to say, but you hesitated to even mention him at this moment, when the only man who really mattered to you was looking at you with his own tears beginning to well in his cunning blue eyes.

“I could never, ever forget you, milady.”

And he knew now what you meant. He knew the fear in your eyes, the same fear from the other night. He could feel this fear inside him, too. The fear of never seeing you again, of you being trapped in a place you could not escape from, not unlike how you’d been trapped in your own castle. Yet, this would be so much worse, for you’d be chained to that wretched, evil man, who would do God knows what to you. 

But those thoughts were poisonous. “Don’t think about that now… Just feel me.” So he came into you again, just as far as he’d gotten before. “That’s it… Can you take more?”

That was all you wanted, actually. More. All you needed was him, filling you as deep as possible, taking you over and marking you as his. You’d never be Negan’s now, and that gave you a sense of power, a relief in knowing that there was at least one thing Negan could never take from you—your chastity. 

“More, Daryl. Please.”

By now, he was almost all the way inside you, but he could go no further, for his own fear of hurting you too much. He pulled out a bit then, to which you grasped at his shoulders and pulled him back against you. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” he laughed. “I’m just movin’. Calm down, you’re all rigid. Ease up.” Taking his words to heart, you let out a deep breath and relaxed your muscles, allowing you to settle more comfortably into the plush fur underneath you. Slowly, he pushed himself back in, your body welcoming him in with the hug of your slick tightness. “There ya go… Look, your cunt’s already gettin’ used to me. You’re takin’ it good.”

So good, in fact, that you couldn’t help but smile at the feeling—the warmth, the hardness, the fullness… The feeling of his cock sliding back and forth, but never completely leaving you. The sensation was beautiful, far more intimate than anything you’d ever imagined. When he lowered himself down again, his chest laid snug against yours, the feeling of his nipples rubbing yours hard and slow the more he thrusted. As if on their own accord, your legs loosened to lift and wrap around his lower back, taking him in just a little further. There was pain again, but not enough to hurt you. It only felt good.

He had to be careful not to move too fast, though the involuntary squeezing of your walls drew him closer to his breaking point. He could feel both your arousal and his, surrounding him inside you. But he had to make you come again, he thought. He needed to know that his cock had pleased his princess just as much as his tongue. 

Your soft, whimpering moans made it clear that he was, indeed, pleasing you, your tearing pain having given way to that tingling feeling again, making your writhe and shiver underneath him.

“Daryl,” you panted. Spurred on by your pulsing body, his movements became faster, more sloppy, more passionate. Now you could really feel his size, his length digging into a particular spot that made you roll your head back against his pillow, your lips trembling and gasping for air as you spoke. “Oh, it feels so… Yes, my love, my knight… You’re so big.”

“Princess… I feel your cunt squeezing me.”

“Oh, I—I am s-sorry.”

He huffed a laugh against your cheek. “Feels good,” he said. “Keep squeezin’ me.”

He pressed a firm kiss to your cheek as his hips thrusted non-stop, now molding you to fit his cock perfectly, forever. Well, for however long you had left together. 

“God, you’re soakin’ me,” he said, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of wet skin on skin. 

Your well-trained manners urged you to apologize again, but the sensation of his cock hitting into you was enough to render you speechless, except for the breathless sighs and sultry moans escaping your lips as you clawed at his shoulders, fingernails digging into his scarred flesh to nearly break open new wounds. 

He continued on for a while now, though you could not tell how long he’d been thrusting, you only knew you were drowned by his mouth, his lips finding every part of your skin that he could reach in this position and leaving sloppy trails of open-mouthed kisses. That tightening and tingling within you strengthened with each movement he made, each thrust reminding you of how deep inside you he was, and how strong he was, his body weight driving the force of each hard, deep stroke. 

Only when your moans had faded into heaving breaths and your body had loosened into jelly did he speak to you again, though not stopping his thrusts, as he couldn’t bring himself to even think about stopping now. 

“Hey, sweetheart? You all right?”

You were hardly responsive, only opening half-lidded eyes to gape at his reddened, sweat-dripping face. His chestnut hair hung wildly, tickling your cheeks, though all you could feel was the pounding, the swelling of his cock inside you, the growing sensation of that volcano about to erupt again. 

“H-hey.” You felt his hand cup your cheek as he said your name, his own voice shaky and stuttering as he began to lose his ability to keep himself in control. Tears welled up in your eyes once more, only now, they were those same tears of overwhelming, astounding satisfaction. 

Stimulated to the point of near-catatonia, you were released by a sudden wave of vibrations that surged through you like electricity, bringing you back to life. Your legs clenched tight around his waist as your head shot back, exposing your strained neck. His lips did not spare you in your moaning, crying state. They attacked your neck as you pulsed all around his cock and grinded up against his pelvis by instinct. He held his hips still now, though, letting you ride the multiple waves of your intense orgasm until you shook like a leaf in a cool autumn wind beneath his strong, stabilizing body which your hands clung to desperately.

“Oh, Jesus!” was all you muster. You’d never said the Lord’s name in vain as many times as you had that night. Granted, you had never said the Lord’s name in vain before. “Christ!” Surely, you would be going to Hell. 

“Shit,” the knight muttered into the crook of your neck. “I—I’m…”

Ears pounding with the sound of your heart, you could not process a word he said. You could only allow your glassy eyes to roll back as your lips formed a delirious, open-mouthed smile. “Oh, Daryl.” 

He propped himself up on his bulky arms, dripping with sweat and bulging with flexed, aching muscles. As if to soothe them, you ran your hands up towards his biceps, holding onto them for dear life as he began thrusting again, almost completely inside of you. 

All you could do now was smile up at him, murmuring his name, interspersed with declarations of your love and breathy moans that tortured him the closer he came to releasing himself. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he panted. “You’re mine.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “Yes, yours. Forever.”

“Mine.”

With an almost helpless groan, he pulled himself completely from you, sinking down on his arms to press against you, but with his cock angled to release on your heavy stomach. Though you missed the feeling of him inside you, you moaned at the feeling of warmth near your navel, where he spilled himself onto you. 

Curiosity overcame you as you looked between your bodies, watching his strange… attachment release a silky, cloudy white liquid in spurts. For a moment, your eyes widened in slight fear. Truly, you had absolutely no idea what was happening. For all you knew, he’d suddenly contracted some strange disease that caused his cock to leak a new humor.

“Wh-what is… Daryl, are you all right?”

Once again, he laughed at your innocence. “I’m just fine… Better than fine,” he said, sinking down into a deep kiss. He only parted from them for a moment to say, “That’s s’posed to happen. Did they not teach you anythin’ about sex?”

“Th-they said…” You laughed at your lack of breath. “They said my husband would show me.”

He sighed as he lifted himself off you, then rolled over onto his side. With a huff, he yanked the fur-lined blanket from underneath you, then draped it over himself and you, much to your relief, as it was cold without his naked body on top of yours. 

“Your father,” he began to say, wrapping an arm around your rather limp, flimsy body to pull you close, “he wanted ya to marry my lord, didn’t he?”

A puzzled look contorted your face. “How did you know?”

“He tells me everythin’.” The touch of his calloused fingers tickled your hairline as he brushed back your bangs. “Told me the king brought us here because he thought Richard would make a good husband for you… Why didn’t you want him?”

Duke Richard hadn’t crossed your mind much since that night he first arrived, though you never thought too much about why exactly he did not attract you as much as Sir Daryl did. Now, it was quite clear. 

“Because he isn’t you, my love.” A laugh escaped your lips as you settled your hand upon his chest, twisting your fingers between the hairs that intrigued you so. “The duke is… He is a good man, but you are better. That is all.”

A rosy blush blossomed on his cheeks as his mouth curled with a lopsided smile. You admired the lines in his face, the crows feet and tired bags around his adoring eyes. “He would’ve made a good husband for you.”

“Mm, perhaps.” Your pointer finger traced lines over his sharp collarbone. “Lady Michonne is rather fond of him, though. I think they make a lovely couple. Besides, my heart does not belong to him. It belongs to you.”

Shaking his head, he offered you a somber smile. “You know you can’t marry me, even if Negan didn’t want you. I’d be killed.”

“My father would not kill you.”

“You don’t know that for sure. If he… if he knew that I took you outside the walls, let alone that we—”

“We could go somewhere, someday.”

Your name fell on his lips, but you interrupted him again. “Negan will take me, I know I cannot escape that, but someday, when Alexandria is strong enough, you can find me, and we’ll go away, somewhere you’ve been on your travels. My father would understand. We could be together, we could marry. Someday.”

But you knew it was a pipe dream. You knew that, if it could ever happen, it would happen so long from now, and you could not leave your father without him knowing you were all right. It seemed as though there was nothing to stop the world from caving in. For someone who had so much power by birth, you felt so powerless, the most powerless you’d ever felt in your whole life. That was saying something, as you never truly felt in control of your own destiny. You never thought it could get worse, until now.

“You know I won’t let him take you,” he said. “Maybe we can be together like that someday, but right now, all I care about is you, not me and you.”

“But… I care about you.”

And for the first time in his life, he believed those words.

“I know you do.” Upon your forehead, he placed a chaste kiss. “Ya know, once a knight gives his heart to a lady, he can never give it to anyone else, and he’s bound to her forever.”

Of course you knew that. There wasn’t much about knights you didn’t know. If only you had as much knowledge of human sexuality as you did of knighthood, but alas. 

“Does that mean you will marry me one day?”

His eyes narrowed in playful suspicion as he pretended to think it over, mumbling a pensive, “Hm…”

“Sir Daryl,” you teased, “if you do not agree to marry me, I will send you to the stocks.” 

“Your highness,” he said, his arms pulling you in closer to his chest, “I promise myself to you.”

“And I, you… My sweet, brave knight.”

That evening, you did not return to the castle until the sun began to rise again. Sleeping on a straw-stuffed bed was quite the adjustment from your feather-stuffed one, but he did not let go of you, not even in his sleep, and that made all the difference to you.

Despite the uncertainty that loomed in the air all around you, the fear that settled in your heart from the moment you realized you might never see Daryl again, you had a strange, persistent sense that, someday, every night could be like this one.

Someday, you repeated in your head, lulling yourself to sleep in his arms. 

But that was the future, and this was now. Now, you knew only one thing to be perfectly, virtuously true: you were his, just as he was yours.

Through life, and after death.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

[zevrra]

As I play HL a scenario keeps coming to mind. Can you write something were Slytherin MC had a crush on Ominis form day one, but Sebastian ends up confessing and dating her?

first love; late spring—

tags: a sweet request, sebastian sallow(18+) x fem!reader(18+), one-shot, pure fluff, aged-up characters, short & sweet.

creator notes: thank you for the ask!! sorry this is a little short too btw! i wanted to write more but needed to work on some other stuff as well so i might write a part 2 at some point!! also wrote this in 30 mins so i hope there’s no errors but if there are please forgive me ajshsgdkh

thanks again for the request and i hope you enjoy!! ♡

“I like you.” 

Three simple words would turn your entire world upside down. 

It had been a year since you had first arrived at Hogwarts castle to practice your magic. Learning new spells everyday to prepare yourself for your future career. After everything that’s happened to you, from finding out you have control over an ancient magic to defeating Ranrok, you could never have expected this. 

Since that first day at Hogwarts, waking up in your common room, and meeting several of your fellow peers, you had developed the biggest crush on Ominis Gaunt. He was gentle, charming, and so very kind. Even with his lack of sight it never stopped him from being a leader. If not for his ancestry you would have almost thought he could have been a Griffindor. You had swore you’d stay by his side, even if your feelings were never reciprocated. Which they hadn’t. For a very long year.   

And here was his best friend, your friend, confessing to you. Sebastian Sallow, a complete opposite from your one-sided crush. He was confident, dashing, and a little arrogant. A true prankster at heart. And because you know Sebastian, at first you think he might be joking, trying to tease you. But looking upon his freckled face now he’s more than serious. He’s determined to convey his feelings to you while you both stand outside on this chilly spring morning. 

You can’t help but think of all the times you and Sebastian had gotten close since you arrived at Hogwarts. From every cave crawl to simply attending class together. Copying his homework when you forgot yours. Sharing meals or taking several trips to Hogsmead together where your fingers accidentally touch as you reach for the same thing. It had never occurred to you that Sebastian felt this way but now the signs were more than obvious. How many times had you looked for Ominis when Sebastian had been looking for you.

“I really like you,” Sebastian repeats in a hushed tone. His fingers gently brush against the back of your hand. Almost scared to grab ahold of your hand in fear you’d reject him. “I have for…a while now.” He adds with a blush. You didn’t have to ask to know he most likely meant since the first day you two met. “So just be mine already.”

You stare at Sebastian for a moment then. Searching his face for any dishonesty but you find none.  You’re not sure of every single feeling you’re feeling at the moment but you know just a few things; he’s not lying and your heart is beating faster than it has ever done before. 

“Okay.” You whisper with a nod of your head. Butterflies buzz inside your stomach and chest as you answer. You smile at Sebastian who slightly jumps at your response. As if he was fully expecting you to say no. To storm off and leave him alone in the courtyard. You take his hand then, intertwining your fingers with his.

For a moment he just stands, looking at you in awe. It was his turn to search your face to make sure you weren’t pranking him now. “Okay.” Sebastian mimics you quietly. Still in disbelief but the smile across his face tells you he’s excited. Especially when he finally snaps out of his daze to squeeze your hand back. 

Every romantic book or poetry piece you had ever read always spoke about how spring was the time for first love. And for once your daydreaming of this moment was coming true.