#THE ANGST??? THE COMFORT???? SPECTACULAR

[melancholyofautvmn]

you know a fanfic's good when it makes you want to write fanfics about it

[queenendless]

JEALOUS

A/n: Yall. S2, EP 12 ... BIG TIME love and thanks to everyone involved in making that episode truly a SPECTACULAR~!

This however was inspired by ep 9 and 10 but of course this is its own thing.

Jealous!Jinwoo x Fem!Adult!Reader (ft Baek and Choi)

CW: Jealous Jinwoo and kinda reader too, reader got self doubt issues, petnames, angst, hurt/comfort, brief isekai and self awarness mentioned, LADS cameo, plus steamy stuff implied at the end.

NO REPOSTS, TRANSLATIONS, PLAGIARISM, AGELESS BLOGS AND AI USE WITH MY FAN WORKS ALLOWED. Reblogs likes and follows to support my fan works are allowed pls n thnx.

Eyeing gorgeous illustrations or animated shows filled to the brim with breathtaking characters you could only dream of meeting let alone befriending your whole life was the closest you had gotten to it.

Starting anew in Korea gave way to you seeing sights that you never believed you'd ever get to view in person.

Especially in the world of hunters, D&D becoming the new norm of your day to day.

But you were hit on all for kicks to the jokesters, regardless of your hurt emotions from the mockery and cat calls.

Too bad for them, though.

They were nearly extinguished from existence from the one that did take your feelings seriously into account from the moment your eyes connect.

That being your beloved Jinwoo.

In public, he's calm, cool and collected when out with you. But any and every single unfortunate individual that dares attempt to seduce you, never ends well for them. Only your overprotective jealous Monarch has the privilege of doing so.

Today was no exception.

Mr. Go Gunhee, the head of the Hunters Association, wished to meet Jinwoo on some business at the Hunters Gym. Only to be offered to participate in an S-rank training session.

The aura farmer that is your Jinwoo.

The very same one whose agile movements, swift like speed, and high level instincts aided in his perception of the situation. You rarely get to see Jinwoo in training let alone sparring as is.

Seated on the sidelines as you watched the free for all of him against several S-ranks to test how far he has come. That is, with you in the Hunters gym, he knew going all out could potentially put you at risk.

You were both surprised you could stay, barely being swept up in S-tier brawls as is.

But you weren't worried. Rather, you were narrowed in on Jinwoo's thick heavyweight black sweatshirt riding up as he swerved through Lim Tae-Gyu's rain shower of arrows, revealing those sculpted muscles along his abdomen. Those light gray spray painted cargo pants hugged his long legs in all the best ways as he clashed kicks with Cha Hae-In, especially for his well crafted ass clenching in response. His ebony wavy locks twinkled with sheen as he worked up a sweat flying through the air while running along the giant sized Ma Dongwook swinging his arms about.

Those eyes of Jinwoo's blazed from the combat high as he stole glances at you now and then, widening at how raptured you were at his prowess; despite holding back for your safety, gave him such a prideful boost as his lips curled smugly before easily knocking Ma back from landing right on his forehead.

“Are you alright?” That deep baritone voice drew you out of your wandering mind of dreams suffocating your faint hearted self. The sweaty bare chested man that is Baek Yoonhoo walking up to you from the main hallway. Your face burned at how impressive the guild master of the White Tiger guild looked up close. His own sheen made his muscles really pop out.

“Yeah. Just lost in thought.” Tremors leaked in your pronunciation for your heart raced at sensing piercing eyes aimed right at you and they weren't Baek's.

With the fluffy towel wrapped around his thick veiny neck, he started wiping away the sweat trailing along his sharp face when his curious sharp toothed smile of his gave your insides somersaults. “Quite a heated match here. Hunter Sung is putting on quite the show for you.”

“Oh I wouldn't put it like that …” The unsure awkward drawl you left off on got him raising a brow at your self conscious behavior. Glowing eyes narrowed in suspicion, within your Shadow and from afar. “I would have liked to see you take part though.”

Baek sheepishly chuckled, hints of red dusting his chiseled cheeks. “While I appreciate it, I admit my very best isn't enough to reach his level though —”

Perception works both ways.

Chewing the inside of his cheek as he got nearly socked in the face was Jinwoo's best way of keeping his growls subdued, hearing exchanged word for word through your linked shadows.

“The Beast being humble, how quaint.” The teasing lilt in the new voice joining in nabbed you threes’ attention. “So, you're the lucky lady that has our newest S-rank wrapped around their finger.”

The sly charming smile of the guild master of the Hunters Guild, Choi Jong-in, got you kind of weary.

“I'm surprised Hunter Sung is willing to participate in this little match. Then again, Hunter Cha has spoken nothing but praise of him as of late. She's quite taken by him.”

The rush of clashing against his opponent suddenly became second in Jinwoo's spirit, the shock of Choi's seed of doubt placed in your mind sends the strands of envy intertwining with rage.

Baek bit out, jabbing his irksome rival in the ribs with that hefty elbow of his, those crimson eyes heatedly glaring in reply. “Way to show tact, jackass. Pay his words no mind, Ms. L/n.”

The crumpled frown you couldn't suppress despite Baek's advice grew, spotting the pair now engaging in close combat. Even from far away you could imagine that same longing mystique in her gaze that'd be on par with yours. All for Jinwoo. And only him.

But with his back facing you, you couldn't quite see his beautiful, familiar face. Nor his glowing eyes matching the mana visually seeping out of his twitching fingertips; his tolerance running thin.

“Forgive me for my insensitivity. Anyone foolish enough to let such a rare gem slip from their grasp is the true fool. That said,” Choi's amicable smile still made such mixed feelings stir in your nerve wracked cage, even as he took your hand graciously. "It's truly a pleasure to meet you, my dear.”

Baek clicked his tongue. “Putting the moves on her won't win you any favors.”

Choi's calm demeanor cracked. “Says the married man that approached her first.”

The taller of the two butted heads with the smaller one, literally. “I'm not the one actively hitting on a taken woman, genius!”

“Gentlemen, there's no need to fight!” Being the center of attention in the midst of a developing brawl got your nerves wracked.

Perception works both ways, indeed.

The baring fangs and the flames sparking at the fingertips get blown away by the thick smog of imposing aura that curtains you from behind in an instant. His musky sweaty scent reeled you back, those firm hands squeezing your hip bones quite needily. Everyone's shadows rippled from the King making his presence known.

“I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't fill my angel's head with such delusions anymore, Hunter Choi.” Jinwoo’s minatory words irked the latter just as it terrified them both. Especially when your love's voice warped to match that of an inhuman entity. “Implying I'd leave her for another is unforgivable.”

Spotting Hae-In from out of the corner of your eye, her downtrodden eyes full of ache at her lovelorn self made you toil in pity yet taking twisted pleasure in it.

Auras stoked like bonfires at this confrontation, the experienced hunters glowing eyes widened in alarm from the endless well Jinwoo's own mana emanated.

“You can have your little quarrel elsewhere … unless you rather join me in a spar of our own to settle this dispute.” The eerie smirk on Jinwoo's face startled both men, garnering the other hunters concern of the potential clash, knowing their newest addition could level the entire area and more if pushed too far —

“Jin.” Your voice calling out his name calmed the raging storm inside, him softening at those lovestruck eyes of yours. “It's okay.” He felt your form slowly calming down, growing more slackened against his warm self.

His snugly arms coiled around your frame, humming deeply, before firmly pecking your forehead. “Sorry for keeping you waiting, sweetheart~” That honey dripping tone he purred in your ear had you trembling, a stark contrast from his earlier behavior. “I hope you enjoyed my performance though~” His fingers pinched the plush area above your hips, drawing jumpy squeals out of you, his genuine grin popping out in response to your precious light. “Shall we get going, then?” Your nod of approval gets him squeezing you tighter. “Sorry gentlemen. Next time, then. Shadow Exchange.” The shades of night enveloped you as you were still in his grasp, taking you with him. A shadow soldier took its lieges’ place before vanishing itself in black wisps.

Back in the comfort of your shared place, Jinwoo gave you another forehead kiss before excusing himself to go shower.

Your muscles flared as chronic body pains were your crutch. Laying on your tummy on your shared bed, you spent a good while on your phone, chasing your earlier strifes away by playing the newest 3D otome game straight outta China that had you joining the many other starved ladies out there.

Whether the time traveler, the doctor, the merman, the dragon, or the colonel, you were having a hell of a time.

Lost in the addiction of mobile gameplay, you fail to detect the halt of the shower head running nor the adjoining bathroom door opening up with his silhouette in the frame, drying his wet hair, spotting you smiling at your digital boy toy.

The predatory growl from above that came with a heavy body carefully pinning you beneath his bare torso got your attention finally. Long lithe hands easily pried your phone out of your grasp, scraping his thumb only for your CG favorite calling out to you.

“How dare you steal my angel from me, bastard?” Such a low primal growl, his flashing eyes reflecting on your screen in that moment.

“Jin, it's just a game.” You murmured.

Tossing your phone gingerly a bit away from you both along your plush comforter, he leans off you just to roll you on your back, gulping at how quickly his eyes darkened. His own sheen marbled bode replaces that of Baek's in your mind's eye, slowly heaving those plush pecs and smooth abs dotted by droplets that added to the attractiveness.

“One that's nabbed your attention elsewhere. And after earlier today, all I want now is all your affection.” His coy grin grew as your hands already brushed those drops away while feeling the muscles beneath. “Like so~”

“You know I love you.”

“And the other way around?” He takes handfuls of the comforter around both sides of your head as he lowers down slowly enough until he drapes over your being, his seabreeze body lotion scenting his skin, his sweatpants hanging loosely by those peaking out hips as he pinned yours in between, his face now a hair's breadth away. “You're not the only person alive plagued with jealousy.”

“Master Baek is happily married and Master Choi isn't much my type so —”

“He crossed a line today.” His rumbling grunt cut those words in half.

“Miss Cha still really likes you. Even before I came along.” Your sad accepting smile aches him even more.

“She's just as much a comrade as she is my friend. But I turned her down because I met you.”

“I'm no S class hunter, though. Nor a mighty vessel of power. I don't have much to offer as a hopeless human.” The self-inflicted seeds of doubt were an ongoing problem you still struggle with, more than ever now.

Your choked up vulnerability pulled at his heart strings. Tears trailed sideways from your eyes, wetting the cloth, to which his thumbs immediately rubbed against your already reddening gaze. “You're my passion.” Your fangirling escapades into your interests always grabbed his intrigue. “My inspiration.” You became his biggest reason to making the world a less cruel place for you both. “My heart.”

“And you're my strength.” His humble sweetness earned him your trust. “My courage.” Witnessing his strength amiss his conquests swooned you over. “My angel.”

The shower of yearning kisses littered every inch of your face, your smile now one of relieving joy. Those velvety lips of his suddenly trailed down to your neck, bringing forth shuddering gasps and breathy moans outta you.

“In this version of the story, you've become my light.” The sharp deep bites he began marking all over your neck brought forth such burning longing in you, already wringing through his wet silk hair, keeping him as close as possible. “You have yourself to blame.” His heated breath meets your collarbone before he suckles there until red blemishes decorate it.

“Pardonne-moi?” You quipped naively.

“Your stubborn little self wormed your way into my life. Can't let you be in the company of another man vying for your hand, now can I?”

Tapping his shoulders, you get him to look up at your blushing beautiful self.

“You've filled my every thought, every wish, and every dream from the moment I met you.” Cradling his face in your hands, diving into those endless pools of gray and blue wonder. The plethora of feelings mere simple words cannot come close to truly representing them still retain a chokehold on you but you still try. “I want only you, Jinwoo. Forever.”

You felt his smile against your chest before he crawled up to finally devour that achingly intoxicating mouth of yours.

“Y/n, I'm incomplete without you.” He breathed between breaks. “I know you inside and out.” This feverish makeout got steamy real quick. “Your personal taste, your darkest desires, your type.” Traversing familiar smoldering caverns, tongues clashing for dominance, both of you starving for each other's essence. “You're stuck with me, you naive tease.”

“Likewise, you farming Player.” Your otherworldly knowledge still astounds him to this day.

His dark chuckle got your spine shivering with excitement.

“Going all out would have been another story entirely.” The towel draped around his neck gets tugged off. “I'd let you and only you be my audience for that.” You're puddy in his hold as his other hand gingerly took both yours. “To prove how I alone am the only one worthy to be yours.” Binding your hands above your head with his towel. “For the rest of eternity.”

His hand wandered down your goosebumped arms, brushing your hair before tenderly cupping your already nuzzling cheek, his thumb teasing your bottom bruised lip, and his tongue licked his own in anticipation.

“Now then, my Y/n, we have a long night ahead of us …” Straddling your hips, you already felt his crotch needily brushing up against your own. “Enough to have every inch of you mine for the taking.”

His half lidded eyes glowed again, his other hefty hand resting over right where your racing heart was, beating for him. And only him.

“Shall we~?”

Hearts filled his eyes as did yours for his jealousy is on par with yours.

“Lets.”

[rose24207]

Dark Mafia Lando Norris who is a very dangerous man, but for his darling girl, he's a completely soft man for her, possessive of her, but all the reader sees is his soft side. But reader hears some rumors that he's a very bad man and she asks Lando who asks her where she got thease ideas from and she tells him that one of his new men told her to be careful of him. So Lando reassures her nothing is true and he would never hurt her and goes to take care of this guy and set an example out of this guy in front of his men.

Soft for you

Summary: Lando Norris, a dangerous mafia leader, shows nothing but love and gentleness to his darling, but when she hears whispers of his darker side, he reassures her before taking ruthless action against the man who planted doubt in her mind.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, fluff, angst

TW: Mafia, Lando offs someone in this, lando being a manipulator and is gaslighting a little

A/N: love the idea!! Thank you for your request!

Masterlist

The low hum of the city night filled the air, a mixture of distant car horns and murmured conversations drifting up to the penthouse balcony. You leaned against the railing, the cool breeze brushing against your skin. The view was spectacular, a sea of glittering lights stretching out below, but your attention was fixed on the man behind you.

Lando Norris sat on the plush outdoor couch, one arm draped over the backrest and a glass of whiskey in his other hand. His dark curls were tousled, and the faint glow of the city cast sharp angles across his face. Despite the powerful aura he carried, the smile he gave you was warm, soft, a stark contrast to the man you knew he was to the rest of the world.

“You’re staring, darling,” Lando teased, his voice smooth as velvet.

You flushed, caught in the act. “Am I not allowed to admire my boyfriend?”

Lando chuckled, setting the glass down and opening his arms to you. “Come here, then. Admire me up close.”

You obliged, sinking into the comfort of his embrace. His arms wrapped around you securely, and he kissed the top of your head. This was the Lando you knew—kind, gentle, and hopelessly devoted to you.

He was the type to remember your favorite snacks, to leave sweet notes around the house, and to hold you close whenever you felt even the slightest bit down.

But lately, you’d heard whispers—rumors that painted him in a completely different light.

It had started earlier that day, when you’d ventured downstairs to the ground floor of the high-rise building. Lando’s men were stationed everywhere, but they always greeted you with polite nods and respectful smiles. You were "Lando’s girl," a title that seemed to carry weight even among hardened men.

But today was different. A new recruit—someone you hadn’t seen before—had been standing near the entrance. He looked nervous, like he didn’t quite fit in with the polished, stoic demeanor of the others.

As you passed by, he’d glanced around before leaning in slightly.

“Miss…” he began hesitantly.

You paused, curious. “Yes?”

“I don’t mean to overstep,” he whispered, his eyes darting nervously. “But… you should be careful around him. Mr. Norris isn’t what he seems.”

You frowned, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m just saying, he’s a dangerous man. You seem… nice. Just be cautious, okay?”

Before you could respond, another of Lando’s men appeared, barking an order that sent the recruit scurrying off.

The encounter left you shaken. You knew Lando’s world was different from yours, filled with power and influence, but you’d never imagined him as dangerous. He was your Lando—the man who brought you flowers and kissed your forehead before bed.

And yet, the recruit’s words lingered in your mind.

That evening, as you lay curled up on the couch with Lando, the curiosity finally got the better of you.

“Lando?” you asked softly.

He looked up from the book he’d been thumbing through, his dark eyes instantly attentive. “Yes, darling?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he replied without hesitation, setting the book aside.

You hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. “I… heard something today. About you.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but his expression remained calm. “What did you hear?”

“Someone said… that you’re dangerous.”

For a moment, there was silence. Lando’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but when he looked at you, his gaze was soft. “And who told you that?”

You hesitated again. “One of your new men. He told me to be careful around you.”

Lando’s lips pressed into a thin line, and the air around him seemed to shift. The warmth in his eyes cooled slightly, replaced by a glint of something sharper. Still, his voice remained gentle when he spoke.

“Darling, you know me,” he said, cupping your cheek in his hand. “You know I’d never hurt you. Never.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But… is it true? Are you—”

“Shh.” Lando pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Whatever they told you, it’s not something you need to worry about. My business… it’s complicated. But my only priority is keeping you safe and happy. Always.”

You wanted to believe him, and as he held you, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, the doubts began to fade.

Later that night, after you’d fallen asleep, Lando stood by the window, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Find out who the new recruit is,” he ordered, his voice low and icy. “The one who spoke to Y/N today.”

The man on the other end stammered. “Y-yes, sir. I’ll handle it.”

“No,” Lando snapped. “I’ll handle it. Make sure he’s in the warehouse tomorrow. I want everyone there.”

As he ended the call, his gaze softened when it landed on you, curled up peacefully in bed. For you, he was soft, gentle, and loving. But for anyone who dared to threaten that peace?

Lando Norris was a nightmare.

The next evening, Lando stood in the center of the dimly lit warehouse, his men gathered in a wide circle around him. At his feet, the new recruit knelt, trembling.

“You had one job,” Lando began, his voice eerily calm. “To follow orders. To stay in line. And yet, you thought it wise to speak to my girl. To fill her head with lies.”

The recruit stammered, his words incoherent.

“Silence,” Lando commanded, and the room fell deathly quiet.

He crouched down, his eyes locking onto the man’s. “Y/N doesn’t need to know about my business. She doesn’t need to see this side of me. Do you understand?”

The recruit nodded frantically, sweat dripping down his face.

“But now,” Lando continued, standing to his full height, “you’ve forced my hand. I have to set an example. Otherwise, what’s to stop the next idiot from doing the same?”

The recruit’s pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as Lando turned to his men.

“Watch closely,” he said coldly. “This is what happens when you cross me.”

When Lando returned home that night, the darkness in his eyes had vanished. He slipped into bed beside you, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

You stirred, blinking up at him sleepily. “You’re late,” you murmured.

“Business,” he said simply, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nestled closer, sighing contentedly. “You’d tell me if there was something I needed to worry about, right?”

Lando kissed your forehead, his voice a soft promise. “You never have to worry, darling. I’ll always protect you.”

And as you drifted back to sleep, you had no idea just how far he would go to keep that promise.

Thank you for reading!!

[nezuscribe]

𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

summary: being gojo's wife was better than you could have imagined, too good perhaps. when you have doubts about being with him, gojo must simply show you that they're wrong

pairing: gojo x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni, mild angst, heavy smut, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), vaginal penetration, heavy making out, gojo is a little possessive (but that's okay!)

note: this could be a historical au if you squint but i was too tired to go in-depth. also sorry for any typos, i might fix it later

word count: 3.3k

jjk masterlist

gojo saturo was a man who was always sure of himself. 

he didn’t need anybody to tell him of his strength. the word of his agility spread across the aegean sea, and his strength rivaled no other man. his stark beauty that only came with having a goddess as a mother, and his snide remarks that came with being fed with a silver spoon his entire life. 

and yet you had never seen gojo so angry. never seen his eyes turn such a shade of gray, his hair framing his face messily as he breathed as though each inhale cost him the regular amount three would take. 

his (your) sleeping quarters usually a comforting place for you to be, but it all felt cold now. you could barely look at him without feeling the bile rise in your throat, wondering if you finally ruined the lick of happiness you were blessed with these past few months.

who would have thought your words would have such an effect on him? 

"what do you mean let you leave?" he spat your earlier statement as if it burned his tongue, seared his flesh as he if the prospect was enough to set even the holiest man aflame.

"i," you paused, your back pressing up against the wall as tears treacherously stabbed at your waterline, “i just think that you could have somebody…worthier.” you used the heel of your palm to wipe at your cheeks, hoping that the darkness would hide your weakness.

he took in another labored breath as if hearing you say it again was the confirmation he needed to make sure he heard you correctly the first time. 

“you could have anybody, gojo,” his lips curled at the use of his last name, getting comfortable with hearing ‘toru fall off your soft lips, “i don’t want you to be bound to me because you wanted to spite-” 

“spite?” he throws it out, cutting you off, scoffing in disbelief as you nod slowly. 

“you don’t have to take me for a fool,” you say through a sniffle, the moon carding through the window as it bounces off of his beautiful face, “i don’t have much to give, but i’m not dense. i know that there wouldn’t be many reasons after spite to take me as your wife.”

he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, looking at you and then at the tears that stained your soft cheeks. he wanted to reach out and wipe them, to kiss the salt away, and to give you words that held his heart in each syllable but you would only deem them as moments to fill the silence and to please the gods.

“then you are dense if you think that’s why i picked you as my wife,” he tells you finally, the words cutting you through your nightgown and through your chest. you were aware he wielded the sword better than any grecian warrior, but you never would have guessed that his words could be just as powerful. 

“your mother wants-” 

“damn what she wants!” he cracked, shaking in anger as your lips wobbled at the flash that crossed his face, he rubbed his hands over his tired eyes, looking away, trying to calm himself down as his hair fell into his eyes, “have you ever stopped to think about what about what i want?”

you didn’t know what he wanted. you had always thought that the gojo satoru would pick somebody spectacular to be his equal, somebody whose name was just as prominent as his. you thought that his wife would have been a child of a god as well, somebody who could match him on his every level. 

but now you weren’t sure, your past judgment slipping away as you took in his disheveled state.

“i,” he sighed, looking at you as he shook his head, “i want you so much that hearing you say you want to leave damn near tore my heart out. i want you so much that my every waking moment is spent thinking, dreaming, wanting you. you are the only person that i care for.” he choked out, his voice raw as he pushed the strands away so he could see you.

you couldn’t find anything to say as your lips trembled as you tried to conceal your cries. if only he knew your petty tears came from years of these words being muttered in the back of your head, from the people around you, and only tonight did they finally spill. you were strong, and you could control your emotions better than most, but seeing him tonight with the woman blatantly trying to win his attention proved the fragility in your mask. you knew that accepting his hand in marriage meant having to have skin thicker than before, but after months of hearing the crude rumors of why he picked you out of anybody else chipped away at you before this was all that was left. 

“i didn’t want you to be my wife out of spite,” he takes a tentative step forward, hoping that you don’t cower away because of it, “i wanted you to be my wife because i loved you too much for you to be anything but.” he walks again, his long legs reaching you in a matter of milliseconds as he’s now closer than he was before, his striking eyes taking you in better as you look at him from above your lashes, not wanting him to see you this way.

“you are so smart yet sometimes you can’t see beyond what people tell you,” he murmurs, pulling you into his chest as you let him, this warmth something you knew you could no longer live without, “i will not let you leave.”

“but-” 

“listen to me,” he murmurs firmly, his fingers grasping your jaw as he lifts it up so you can see him. 

“i will not let you leave…unless you want to,” his thumb swipes away at the corner of your eyes, searching for answers, “do you want to?”

no, you don’t.

you want to stay. you want to wake up to his kisses and his gentle touch, the honeyed words he’d tell you as he held you close to his naked body. you wanted to stay and experience what it’s like having the strongest soldier as your husband, to know that he wouldn’t let a fly land on your head. you want him.

“no,” you look away, your cheeks heating up under his heavy gaze, “but-” 

“then don’t leave.” he cut you off again, shushing your doubts as he shook his head. his fingers trailed across your shoulders, long as you felt them travel down the cloth that covered your back, holding your waist as he ran them across the expanse of your body. 

he knew the things you told yourself sometimes, he’d comforted you those nights when the darkness sheltered your tears and all he could do was tell you that you were wrong and hold you close to his thumping heart. 

this was the furthest it had ever been. his heart was thumping erratically and he was sure it would jump out of his throat if you actually left.

“‘toru, i really think that….” you trailed off as he dropped his head down, his lips finding your neck as he littered wet kisses on your skin, mouth curling into a smile as he heard your breathing hitch. 

he gripped your hips tightly, undoing the knot that met in the middle of your collarbones, watching as your robe fell to show off your supple skin to him. you wanted to hide, never getting used to that hungry look that would take over his face as he eyed your breaths, his cheeks glowing pink as he nudged his thigh in between your two legs. 

“do you really think i could live without these?” he asked, his hands cupping your tits as he flicked his thumb over your pert nipples, your lips catching between your teeth to hide your whines, “without you?” his hands ran down your stomach, his nose rubbing against your cheek as he teased his lips over yours, a cruel grin threatening to make its way onto his stunning face as you tried to meet him where he was. 

“now you’re eager?” he taunted, getting drunk off of your helpless whines, enjoying knowing the fact that neither of you would be able to survive without the other, that he needed to breathe your air in order to live. he could taunt and tease you as much as he’d want, but in the end, he’d always oblige. 

he kissed you like a man starved, his lips crashing against yours as you let out a small gasp. he took the air from your lungs, your teeth clashing against each other as he held you to him, your nipples rubbing against his chest as he moaned into your mouth, wanting more. 

“want you, always want you,” you murmur against him, your fingers curling at the stray hairs at his nape, pulling him closer to you as you press up to kiss him again.

“then don’t ever say anything like that again,” he whispered, and for the first time that night you heard the vulnerability in his words, “i want you so bad that i can barely think straight without you.”

you wanted to apologize but he stopped you, already knowing the words that were going to come out of your mouth. He nipped at your lips, stealing your apology away silently, not wanting to see your pretty tears anymore, the sight hurting him more than any wound he’s attained in all his years as a warrior. 

dropping down to his knees as he breathed in your scent, his eyes rolling back as you tried to look away in embarrassment. He’d press kissed to your inner thighs, stopping just where you needed and wanted him most, taking your knee as he guided it upwards to rest on his shoulders, looking up at you as he rolled and smirked. 

“you think anybody else will love you like i do? treat you like this?” you shook your head, your fingers curling into his white hair as your head thumped against the wall, his hot breath fanning over your fluttering entrance as you whined out for him. 

“mmh, fuck,” he loved seeing you like this, beautifully naked, sweat dotting on your skin as you wrapped your leg around his back, “hurry up ‘toru,” you were impatient and he loved that about you. 

“anything for my wife,” he said, his mouth finally finding your clit as you let out a pleased cry, his fingers prodding at your dripping entrance as your eyes squeezed shut. this is where he loved to be most, the saccharine taste of you on his tongue, washing over his body as he grew taunt against his stomach. 

he sucked, his two fingers reaching deep in you as he curled them, switching them with his mouth occasionally as your grip on his hair grew tighter, guiding him up and down as he slurped your juices away, the sound echoing across the chamber. 

“just like that!” you moaned when he reached your spongy spot, your walls clenching around his fingers, your essence staining his chin as he looked up at you with a dopey look in his eyes, “fuuuck ‘toru,” your words were the sin that he longed for, tainting his existence with the presence of your love. 

he could feel you getting closer, his movements getting faster as he held one against your ass, cupping it as he brought you even impossibly closer to him, eating you out as he had never eaten a meal as good as this, and you did try to stop the noises that fell out of your mouth as you squeezed against him, creaming on his fingers as he brought you to your high, crying out his name as you tried to dig yourself against the wall.

your heavy breathing filled the room, your grip on his hair loosening up as he kissed your inner thigh one last time before disconnecting himself from your spasming pussy, grinning like a fool as he balanced himself on his haunches. 

“good?” 

“oh, shut up,” you muttered, still trying to catch your breath as he chuckled, standing up as he brought you to his chest once again. you would never get tired of him like this, your juices on his lips and chin as he looked at you like you were his god. 

he would argue that you most definitely were. 

he pressed his lips to yours once again, letting you taste yourself on him as you whimpered against his rapid movements, grasping onto his arms for support as you hooked a leg around his waist, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

you could feel him hard against your stomach, and you looked down, his robes not doing much to hide his length. 

“see what you do to me?” he said against the shell of your ear, your fingers running up and down his clothed cock, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling as you continued your motions, enjoying the way he dropped his head in the crook of your neck, “you’re mine.” 

“you flatter me,” you teased, your eyes still a little puffy but you cracked a smile, feeling him puff out a laugh as he shook his head, grasping onto your waist as though that was the only thing that could keep him standing. 

if only his enemies could see him like this; reduced to a mere mess all from your fleeting touch. 

“i’m being honest.” he sucks onto your neck, his nose nudging your jaw as you tug onto his clothing, your fingers grasping onto the sturdy fabric as you push it down, your eyes taking in his physique as he stands naked before you, the two of you finally even. 

“you’re so pretty,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth as your eyes rake over his abs, the faint scars that litter his torso, the white hair that leads down to his angry cock that leaks pre all over his stomach.

he snorts, rolling his eyes as he wraps your legs around his hips once again, hoisting your upwards like you weigh nothing as he rested his dick in between your puffy folds, cocking his head as he looked at you through his long lashes. 

“me?” he asks as you giggle softly, nodding as his heart flutters at the sound, “i wish. look at your eyes,” he presses a kiss against your lids, “and your nose,” he kisses the tip of your nose as you try not to laugh even louder, the giddy sound something he hopes the gods could hear so that would envy him and the woman he has in his hands, “and your lips,” he pecks them, “and your smart, smart head,” he presses another kiss against your hairline, balancing your body in his arms, “my beautiful wife.” he finishes, looking back at your flustered figure, proud of his work.

“stop,” you whine, not making any motion to actually stop him, bathing in the endless attention as he tapped his cock head against your clit, your laughs seizing as you look down, forgetting where you were, “you’re such a tease ‘toru.” 

“only because i love you so much,” he said, thrusting up into you as your mouth dropped open into a wanton moan, your head falling back as he took in a sharp breath between his teeth, never getting used to the way you clenched so tightly around him, making it hard to not come in just a matter of seconds. 

“f-fuck,” he moaned, his hot breath hitting your breasts as he dropped his head down to see where the two of you connected, slowly moving his hips as he moved in and out of you, his mushroom tip catching in your fluttering walls as your nails dug into his back, dragging red lines down as he began to rhythmically pound into you, “you’re so fucking tight,”

“mmmh!” you could only whine out, your words slurring in your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut, the feeling of his dick thumping against you was better than any other feeling in the world, you could barely try to raise your hips up to meet him, but he took care of it for you, his strength never failing to amaze you, “l-love you so much ‘toru, m’sorry for w-what i said!” 

even if he was still caught up over it, he fucked you as if to make you forget about it. 

“my wife,” he’d mutter over and over again, searing the words into fate as he fucked you with so much love that it seeped out of his pores. Sweat caught on his brow and his cupids bow and you ducked down to kiss it away, the salty taste on your lips welcoming back as he feverishly kissed you back, “my wife.”

you loved the way his veins dragged up and down your walls, the rings of your essence and creams that frothed around the base of his cock, the way his thighs clenched as his fingers dug into your ass. 

this was something you knew you could never find anywhere else. gojo satoru was something you could never find anywhere else. 

“say your mine, f-fuck, say it,” he muttered against your skin, “need to hear you say it.” 

“m’yours!” your fingers tugged at his hair, your nails scratching his scalp as he welcomed the sting, “i’m only yours!” 

His eyes rolled back as you continued to flutter against him, his high coming faster than it usually would, but he knew that he couldn’t control it with the way you kept crying out his name in that honeyed tone of yours. 

“shit, i’m ‘gonna cum, cum with me, need to feel you cum around me…” he rambled on, your pussy made him crazy. And you were nodding your head, not knowing how to speak anymore as his hips shuddered, your releases spraying each other as he cummed deep into you, white trickling out from where he had you plugged out as you cried out from the pleasure that washed over your body. 

“you’re so perfect,” he whispered after a couple of seconds passed, and you were still trying to recover from your second orgasm of the night, his words warming your soul as he kissed your cheeks.

you looked up at him, suddenly bashful despite what happened, and he had the audacity to cackle at the sight. 

you were stunning always, but he loved this look the most. the sleepy but pleased look in your eyes as you clung to him, your arms draping from his shoulders as he walked with you connected to him, just as you should be. he loved the little smile that would always litter your lips after sex, knowing that if he were to die now he’d die a happy man.

“come on,” he kept you wrapped around his waist as he kept one hand under your ass and one tightly around his waist, “i’ll let you rest, but i need to get some things to clean you up.” his eyes trailed to the mess he made, trying not to let his cock harden at the white that painted your thighs and seeped out from your pussy, knowing you were too tired for another round. 

“i love you,” you muttered into his neck, pressing a kiss where your lips were and he shuddered. 

he squeezed you tightly to him, not knowing what he’d do if you were to leave. he was a man far gone, you had too much control over him to ever submit to any other king again. you were the only being who could tell him what to do, what to feel, and what to love. 

“love you most, my beautiful wife.”

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 2)

general synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

part synopsis - you take pregnancy tests at spencer’s apartment, because his will always feel safer than your boyfriend’s.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, r is with someone else, douchebag bf trope, pregnancy scare, angst & fluff, comfort, reader is female with female anatomy and feminine

warnings - pregnancy, douchebag boyfriend, mentions of anxiety and sickness, swear words

w/c - >300 probably very short

a/n - how many parts will this have 🔮🔮🪄🪄 answer unknown. sorry it’s so short i wanted to get this out before i totally lost all motivation.

PART 1 HERE

Spencer turned on the seat warmers as soon as he turned on the car, but not too hot - you mentioned a year ago how easily you got warm. He looked over at you before putting the car into reverse, a million thoughts racing through his mind.

He could feel your tension in the air, you were mainly quiet, you sniffled once, you tightened your ponytail. It was a coping mechanism, if you could control the state of your hair, you could control the state of your body.

Leaving the grocery store parking lot, Spencer cleared his throat and started doing what he did best: talking.

“Did you know that your brain is constantly eating itself? It’s a form of phagocytosis, but it actually isn’t harmful. What’s more harmful is laughing, many people have actually died from laughing because it can cause loss of oxygen and heart attacks.”

You simply looked at him, eyes slightly wider than before as your cheeks threatened to raise in a smile.

“Thank you, but that just kind of made me more stressed,” you looked back onto the road, “Tell me more about fruits.”

“You can never get too much sugar from fruits, the water contents of the fruit slows down your digestion and makes you feel full. Plums, pears, peaches, and apples are all a part of the rose family. Tomatoes have more genes than we do.”

He glanced over to you, to see if you were still listening, which of course you were. You would never interrupt him, you would never stop listening, you would never stop Spencer.

He continued, quieter this time, “You don’t like tomatoes.”

“No, I don’t.”

Spencer opened the door for you and shoved his keys in his pockets, his scent surrounding you as you entered the familiar apartment. It was cozy and cluttered. Stacks of books and papers created tables for lamps and the odd pot plant, the wooden floors creaked in some places and the carpet under the couch had one stain from where you spilt wine that one time.

It smelt clean, and like Spencer. You smiled to yourself, and put your handbag on a side table, looking around what you considered your second home (after your childhood house).

“I always liked your apartment better than mine.”

Spencer swerved around you and placed the grocery bag on the kitchen counter, turning on the warm ceiling light. “Why’s that?”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he glanced around his apartment - it didn’t seem all that spectacular to him.

You shrugged, sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter, “I don’t know, I guess it just… feels safe.”

So your apartment doesn’t? Spencer bit his tongue, not wanting to bring you any more stress than you were already suppressing.

The tests were still in the bag and they brought your attention like a moth to a light. You stood and joined him on the kitchen side, grabbing a glass (the one with strawberries on it) and filling it with water. Spencer looked at you concerned as you chugged the water in two gulps.

“I gotta pee some how.”

He nodded and clenched his jaw, “You can change into some of my clothes if you want.”

You thanked him, filled the cup back up and took it into his bedroom, starting your search for comfortable clothes that could maybe ease your tension.

He glanced at his bedroom door anxiously. Spencer was glad that you weren’t feeling as nervous, but he knew it wouldn’t last for much longer. Especially when your phone suddenly rings on the kitchen counter with ‘Lloyd’ on the screen.

“Uh, Y/n? Lloyd’s calling.”

Your shoulders hiked as you smoothed out one of his purple sweaters over your hips. An audible gulp echoed in your ears, and you yelled back through the door, “You can answer it.”

"Hello?" Spencer nearly whispered. "Where are you- Spencer?" "Uh, yeah. Hi." "Is Y/n at your apartment? Why is she at your apartment?" Lloyd’s voice raised. Spencer glanced into his bedroom, the door closed, the sounds of your shuffling around filling the otherwise silent space. "Yeah, she's at my apartment-" "God, she always at your's, isn't she? Tell her to go home, I need to talk to her. She's going crazy. Says she's pregnant, it's insane." He furrowed his eyebrows and pinched the bridge of his nose, a wave of rage rushing over him. "She feels sick, and she's thought about it. She looks pretty stressed." "When does she not look stressed?" Lloyd hung up, leaving Spencer speechless and shocked. If this is what he says and acts like all the time, no wonder you're acting like you are. When she's with me. She's not stressed, when she's with me.

You emerged from his bedroom and Spencer’s eyes latched onto his purple sweater and some of his sweatpants covering your nervous body.

His heart palpitated.

“What did he want?” You took the last sip of your second cup of water and looked at the pregnancy tests on the counter.

“Just wondering where you were.”

You nearly laughed, as if.

“Okay well, I’m gonna go… pee on some sticks.” You sighed and grabbed the boxes, Spencer clenching his jaw and nodding.

“Do you want me to stay here? Or come with you?” He asked softly, treating you like a delicate feather. You looked into his warm and caring eyes and smiled shortly.

“Sure. Just close your eyes and ears when I pee.”

taglist - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner @yokaimoon @flow33didontsmoke @kitsunetori @yasmin12312 @softestqueeen @adoresami @hazza3000 @lov3-audz @issy25 @reidswifeyyyyyy

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY ; quinn hughes.

♡ ｡ﾟ･ pair: quinn hughes x fmc (madison, cindy kimberly face claim)

♡ ｡ﾟ･ word count: 52.1k

♡ ｡ﾟ･ synopsis: before becoming a world-known model, madison carter was someone else. she was quinn hughes’ best friend, and he was her favorite person in the world. until things changed and nothing was ever the same.

♡ ｡ﾟ･ what to expect: nsfw, childhood-friends-to-lovers, famous model fmc, hurt/comfort, shitty family but also! found family, angst, happy ending.

— author’s note: for young me, and for all the people who once thought that what they had wasn’t enough. spoiler alert, it was.

nhl masterlist.

— theme song: you too by chase atlantic.

main female character:

Madison Carter

— “do you know how much pain it took to make me this kind?”.

— makes the best blueberry pie in the entire world.

— does it smell like vanilla? spectacular give me fourteen of ‘em right now.

— dog lover.

— #1 fan of chocolate chip pancakes and gravity falls.

before you read.

0. warnings;

00. meet madison carter;

00.1. the first time you saw quinn;

00.2. the first time quinn brought you to his house;

00.3. the last time you and quinn saw each other;

chapters.

𖧷 chapter one

𖧷 chapter two

𖧷 chapter three

𖧷 chapter four

𖧷 chapter five

𖧷 chapter six

𖧷 chapter seven

𖧷 chapter eight

𖧷 chapter nine

𖧷 chapter ten

𖧷 chapter eleven

𖧷 chapter twelve

𖧷 chapter thirteen

𖧷 epilogue

after you read:

smau | quinn and madison through the years

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 merienda

synopsis: prequel two to pocus -- a year into your marriage to the minister of flour, and you two had failed to progress past that of acquaintances. so, to liven things up, you decide to deliver your husband's daily tea in a rather scanty outfit, hoping to ignite a spark... only to discover his deep, dark secret.

cw: fluff, comfort, angst if you squint, katakuri is a bit socially awkward, KATAKURI DOES NOT PLAY ABT YOU, he is now twenty-two, you are now twenty-one, katakuri's got it BAD, reader's kind of a baddie.

a/n: yall this took be sooo long

"I can't believe I'm doing this... I can't believe I'm doing this..." you muttered, utterly disbelieving of what you'd talked yourself into.

Carefully, you continued to push your huge cart—which carried an almost comically giant teapot with matching teacups—looking around nervously as you trekked through Brûlée's Mirro-World.

The vastness of the dimensional space was intimidating, despite your relatively large size, making you feel smaller than you already did in your ridiculous get-up.

Glancing down at yourself, you flushed, still completely baffled that you had allowed yourself to go through with such an embarrassing idea.

"I can't believe I'm doing this..."

It had been a little over a year since your union with the Minister of Flour—which you supposed was pleasant enough as far as political marriages went.

Of course, with Katakuri being her favorite son, Big Mom went out of her way to host a humongous, opulent wedding, which blew all others out of the water even for generations to come.

Major players from all over the world came to witness the spectacular sight, and all at once you were thrust into a realm of pirates, criminals, and racketeers, a humble baker's daughter suddenly a permanent member of the infamous Charlotte family.

Promptly, you were moved into his mansion on Komugi Island, where—unbeknownst to the public—you lived relatively separate lives.

Of course, the Sweet Commander wasn't heartless, and did his best to assist you in the transition in his own Katakuri-ish way.

He left himself open to any questions as far as how things worked among the crew, or identifying who was family and who was not.

But anything beyond that, sadly, was left entirely up to you.

You did your best to spend as much time with him as possible—despite your relatively busy schedule—hoping to learn more about your newlywed husband past Sweet Commander and strong.

Diligently, you worked, suffering through a year of respective isolation.

A year of stolen glances...

A year of fleeting touches...

A year of reddened interactions...

Within that time, you were able to find a few chinks in his armor, a small sum of instances in which a brief glimmer of the true, kind, generous Katakuri shined through.

And it was within those instances that you began to develop a crush on your husband.

All that, combined with a few external pressures of image and status, eventually led you to this very moment.

This moment... being where you were pushing a cart of your husband's favorite tea in nothing but a dangerously short, practically see-through, (f/c) nightgown.

And not only were you wearing the tiniest excuse for a dress known to man, but you were also wearing it... commando.

Safe to say, you felt completely foolish.

But, if there was one thing you were, it was determined, and you refused to back out now after coming so far.

Besides, wives did surprises like this for their husbands all the time...

Right?

Finally reaching Katakuri's mochi shrine, you smiled, pleased by the sight of the three patissiers diligently standing watch.

It warmed you to see the regard in which his crew—and in extension, his family—held him to.

They all thought so highly of him, and you couldn't help but think the same.

There was something about your husband that was innately regal, innately noble.

He carried himself with an air that made others instantly fall in line, so much so that it even had you straightening your back in his presence.

But intimidation be damned, you had a mission to complete.

'Time to turn on the charm...'

"Hiya, boys!" you waved, carefully making your way over to the chefs.

"Lady (y/n)!" they all exclaimed together, thoroughly surprised as they lowered themselves in a respectful bow. "It's an honor! To what do we owe the pleasure!"

Innocently, you shrugged, lazily leaning against the cart.

"Oh, nothing serious. I'm just hear to deliver my husband's tea. You forgot it in your rush and I figured it'd be a shame to let it all go to waste."

Visibly, a terrified quiver rolled down their spines, the fact finally donning on them that they had, indeed, forgotten the tea.

"Oh, dear! Please forgive us!" they instantly fell to your feet, wracked with fear. "It was an accident! The kitchen was completely backed up and we didn't want to keep General Katakuri waiting!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy," you assured, lifting their chins and greeting their sniveling faces with a smile. "It's all right. Things like this happen, and you chefs have a lot on your plate. I have the tea right here, so it's no harm, no foul."

Instantly, their glassy eyes turned starry, their cheeks dusting with a faint shade of pink at your gentleness.

A normal Charlotte would've at least slapped them around a bit.

'How kind! Lady (y/n) is the sweetest!'

"Anyways, I'll go drop this off to him then be on my way. Thanks a bunch!"

Instantly, a record scratch echoed within the bakers' ears, each one of them turning stark white as you began to push the cart toward the shrine.

"No! My Lady! You can't!" they exclaimed, protectively jumping in front of you and blocking your path.

Confused, you raised a brow, halting your movement.

"Huh? Why not?"

"It's not just you," the first one started, warily. "They say no one has ever caught General Katakuri in the act of eating."

"He's ceaselessly vigilant, and can't let his guard down, even during a snack," the second one chimed.

"The point of tea time is to unwind with friends," the third nodded, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "But for him, it's a joyless act of nutritional intake and solemn meditation for his next battle."

"Well, I'm sure he can make an exception. I'm his wife after all," you attempted to reason. "Besides, I'm just giving him some tea, then I'll be on my way."

"Madam, you don't understand," the first one shook his head. "He is communing with the God of War's spirit in a solemn ceremony of the utmost dignity."

"It's a religious experience for him," the second one agreed. "No one can be allowed to... intrude?"

Somehow, you had managed to vanish into thin air right before their eyes, the tea cart being the only thing remnant of you left behind.

"Wha—? Where did she—MY LADY, NO!"

They all turned around, only to find that you were already sneaking into the shrine, carefully opening the sliding door before closing it behind you.

'You've piqued my interest, dear husband...'

"SHE'S DONE FOR!"

Now that you were really thinking about it, in the entire time you'd known him—even pre-marriage—you had failed to ever see Katakuri eat, much less pull down that scarf of his.

It made you curious.

It made you painfully curious.

Slowly creeping in, you were surprised by a rather melodic voice, which sounded an awful lot like singing.

"🎶 Oh, doughnuts! I love to eat doughnuts! Even the hole's a treat, doughnuts! 🎶"

Looking closer, you were finally able to see that it was your dear husband, lazying lazily with his back to the ground as he filled his rather large and pointy maw with your sweets.

'I don't believe it...'

Your eyes widened, face heating up at the sight of him so relaxed and happy.

Forget rare, it was a once in a lifetime sight.

And you were eating up every second.

'Commune with the Warrior God my butt... he just likes his doughnuts.'

"🎶 A snack attack, doughnuts! Lying on my back, doughnuts! A forbidden sweet, always knocks me off my feet! Doughnuts! 🎶"

He grinned, grabbing another one of your mouth-watering doughnuts with glee.

"🎶 This is my secret garden, filled with doughnuts! No judgement, just doughnuts! 🎶"

Though, in an instant, it was all undone.

In a moment of clarity, his haki had finally kicked in, revealing your presence to him as clear as day.

His breath hitched, eyes widening as they finally settled on you, meekly hiding in the corner.

His jovial mood melted faster than soft butter in a hot pan, and his entire aura shifted from merry to deadly as he quickly covered his mouth.

"(y/n)!" he growled, eyes blazing with fury. "What are you doing here?!"

"Katakuri, I—EEK!"

Your sentence was cut short as a mochi appendage wrapped tightly around your waist, harshly yanking you forward and toward him.

"What did you see?! Tell me!"

"Just you eating! Nothing else!"

"Why did you come here?!"

"The chefs forgot your tea at my bakery, so I came to deliver it for you!" you strained, struggling against his tightening grip. "Kata...kuri...! ...You're hurting me!"

"Don't you understand! You weren't supposed to find out!"

His entire world felt as if it was crumbling around him, the weight of what you had just discovered weighing heavily on his psyche.

This wasn't how he wanted you to learn about his true self.

Hell, he didn't want you to learn about it at all.

He wanted to remain the pillar of perfection and strength you had built up in your mind, remain the noble man you had come to know as your husband.

Sure, due to his stoic nature, the two of you weren't the closest, but one thing he learned while in your prolonged presence was that you had the annoying habit of being effortlessly charming.

Your blind kindness and persistent optimism were a stark contrast to his cold calculation, and thusly forced a fondness to fester deep within his chest from the moment you met.

He valued your opinion more than he'd ever admit to anybody, and now you saw him as nothing more than a monstrous fool.

A fate worse than death.

"Find out what?! What are you talking about?!" you winced, attempting to gain some wiggle room.

"My mouth, (y/n)! You saw it!"

"Yeah, so?! Why are you freaking out?!"

At that, he froze, eyes slightly widening with surprise.

'...What?'

"You're not... disgusted?" he asked, completely and utterly confused.

"Why would I be? There's nothing wrong with them," you raised, a brow, confused yourself by the outlandish question. "Katak...uri! ...You're... still squeezing me!"

Quickly, he loosened his grip—though not letting go—allowing you to take in a nice, deep breath.

"I'm... I don't understand," he stumbled, uncharacteristically, desperately attempting to grasp the words coming out of your mouth.

"Is that what you think of yourself? Disgusting?" you asked, brows furrowed with concern. "'Cause that's completely untrue, and it's important to me that you know that."

Dumbstruck, the Sweet Commander could only watch as you stared up at him with admiration, his arm seeming to have a mind of its own as it carefully lowered you to the ground, handling your body with the care of a porcelain doll.

Warmly, you smiled at him, sending his heart into a frenzy as you rested your soft hand against his toned chest, not breaking eye contact for a moment.

"You are Charlotte Katakuri," you started, proudly. "Sweet Commander... Strongest of the Big Mom Pirates... Pride of the Charlotte family..."

You paused a moment, giggling softly.

"Lover of Doughnuts..."

The man flushed, suddenly reminded of the rather poor singing you had been subjected to earlier.

How embarrassing.

"Your perfectly normal mouth doesn't take away from any of that," you continued, sincerely. "And if anything, it amplifies them because it is a part of you."

Slowly, you hand trailed up to cup his cheek, not shying away even when he flinched.

You saw absolutely nothing wrong with the way he looked, and if anything loved it even more.

'I knew he was handsome, but I never thought...'

"You've been holding out on me, Commander," you teased, very pleased by the sight before you. "Who knew my husband was so gorgeous."

At your praise, the general flushed redder than a cherry, unequipped for any sort of response to such a compliment.

"I..."

He froze, his gaze finally trailing lower and landing on your outfit.

In an instant, his throat went dry, hands suddenly becoming clammy and internal temperature shooting through the roof.

"(y/n)... what are you wearing?"

Glancing down at yourself, you suddenly remembered your awkward clothing situation, an embarrassed flush rising to your cheeks.

"Oh! Well...! I read somewhere that wives usually surprised their husbands with gifts like this... so I figured we were overdue..."

You quickly deflated, suddenly incredibly self-conscious under his intense gaze.

"You wanted to surprise me... with lingerie?" he asked, raising a brow.

Your face was as hot as a volcano.

"The woman at the store said it was a nightgown!" you whined, utterly mortified as you slapped your hands on your cheeks. "I didn't realize how short it was until I got home... and I figured it was okay since your guards didn't have much of a reaction."

At that last part, a vein in Katakuri's forehead bulged, his chest swiftly swelling with intense fury—and a hint of jealousy.

The "nightgown" was made of a flimsy, practically see-through silk, the fabric so weak the man was sure he could tear it apart like tissue paper.

Not only that, but the hem came up dangerously high—leaving a bit of your cheeks on display if you moved fast enough—and the neckline came down dangerously low—your breasts threatening to spill out at any moment.

He didn't need haki to sense what his men were thinking seeing you in your outfit.

And he didn't like it one bit.

"The patissiers saw you in this?" he asked, voice deadly calm.

None of this anger was directed toward you, of course, but to the bakers outside that had the privilege of seeing his sweet, beautiful wife so exposed.

"We talked for a bit before I snuck past them," you answered, raising a brow. "Why?"

"I see..."

With your answer, their fates were sealed, your husband already on the move toward the door.

They were all as good as dead.

"Wait, Kuri, no!" you suddenly realized, quickly rushing to block his way. "It's not their fault. They couldn't have known I'd be dressed like this when I came over."

Your eyes shifted, turning pleading as you looked up innocently into his dark-ruby reds.

The sight—along with the use of a new nickname—forced the man to stop in his tracks, blushing like a school boy.

When he became so pathetic, he had no idea.

But he supposed he had you to thank for that.

'Typical...'

With a heavy sigh, he caved, dropping his murder plan and opting to cross his large arms over his broad chest instead.

"Fine..." he nodded, begrudgingly. "But from now on, this outfit stays home."

Relieved, you broke into a wide smile, giving him a playful salute.

"Yes, sir."

Suddenly reinvigorated, you gave him a small spin, modeling the nightgown at all angles.

"But you never told me... do you like it? I mean, was it a good surprise?"

Re-examining you, Katakuri failed to find words to describe how beautiful you looked.

Your every curve was laid out for his viewing pleasure, your natural radiant glow only adding to the appeal.

You were like an angel... an angel that had managed to sneak her way into his secret paradise.

"I... do like it," he stumbled, slightly. "The dress goes well your complexion... and brings out the color in your eyes."

Your eyes widened slightly, pleasantly surprise by the insightful compliment.

He had a lot of sisters.

You keened at his praise, having never heard him say such sweet things.

"You're too good to me," you grinned, eyes flicking from his to his lips with a wanting look. "Can I... Can I kiss you?"

At your request, his eyes practically turned to saucers, the Sweet Commander feeling as if he was about to spontaneously combust.

You?!

And him?!

Kiss?!

Like, right now?!

Like, now now?!

"I... uh..." he stuttered like an idiot, unsure of how to handle this. "Are you sure?"

You suddenly realized how pushy you probably sounded, instantly dialing it back.

"I mean, only if you want to, of course," you sighed, quickly giving up hope. "Y'know what, it's fine. I'm sorry I made this all so weird. I just... I think I'm gonna head back to the bakery—"

"Stay."

Before you knew it, a mochi appendage was wrapping around your waist—its touch infinitely softer than before— preventing you from turning around.

You gasped, slightly surprised as your husband pulled you flush against his chest, looking down at you with an expression you had never seen on him before.

"Just stay," he exhaled, his mochi slowly morphing back into his hand, which rested atop your hip. "If you want to... kiss me... then you can. You're my wife, after all."

At the reminder, your heart skipped a beat, the words sounding even better coming off his tongue.

"Damn right," you grinned, carefully tossing an arm over his shoulder to pull him closer. "And I am very proud."

Unable to respond, the man simply turned rigid, allowing you to move as you pleased.

With bated breath, you leaned in, hooking your manicured finger on the hem of his scarf and carefully tugging it down, going slow since you felt him flinch.

Once again, you were met with the entirety of his handsome face, fangs and scars alike all there for you admire.

A privilege you would not take lightly.

"You are so beautiful, Kuri," you whispered with wonder, cupping his cheek in your soft palm. "I wish you could see what I'm seeing right now."

Nervous, Katakuri was quick to avoid eye contact with you, only humming in response at your praise.

But you moved right on your merry way, allowing your thumb to caress his cheekbone before you finally pressed your plush lips against his, making sure to be wary of his teeth.

But your worries were soon shoved back into the recesses of your mind, making way for the indescribable feeling of utter bliss coursing your veins.

It felt as if you had been struck by lightning and swept off your feet at the same time, the Sweet Commander having to tighten his grip around your waist in order to keep you from toppling over.

He tasted so sweet, and he felt so right, like coming home to a warm hug, or eating a freshly glazed doughnut.

As a child, you never understood what the fairytale books were talking about when they described a kiss as magical.

But now?

It couldn't have made more sense.

Just as quickly as the feeling came, it disappeared, the two of you separating so as not to get too caught up in the moment.

Teasingly, you licked your lips, glancing up at your husband with a mischievous look.

"I'd know my strawberry cream doughnut anywhere," you teased, resting your hand against his chest. "You taste just like 'em."

Flushed, his gaze slid away from you once again, though he managed to keep his hold on your waist.

"There's still more left over.... if you would like to join me for the rest of my merienda?" he suggested, nerves still buzzing through his stomach.

But to his surprise, you nodded vigorously, smiling as brightly as the sun—the sight effectively melting a large chunk of his hardened, mochi heart.

"I'd love to."

[imaginespazzi]

Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance. 

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away. 

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night. 

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily. 

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved. 

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else. 

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone. 

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?” 

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around. 

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet. 

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late. 

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard. 

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave. 

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay. 

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months. 

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question. 

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away. 

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter. 

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart. 

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine. 

Until she’s not. 

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine. 

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck. 

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down. 

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out. 

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion. 

 “I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore. 

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers. 

“What?” 

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home. 

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind. 

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight. 

April 2033 

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age. 

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word. 

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her. 

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen. 

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother. 

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes. 

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room. 

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it. 

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse. 

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too. 

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever. 

“Why would this be about Clémence?” 

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again. 

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown. 

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen. 

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks. 

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her. 

“Hey,” she whispers. 

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?” 

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029 

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave. 

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off. 

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had. 

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years. 

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen. 

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown. 

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again. 

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it. 

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp. 

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could,  “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze. 

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever. 

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too. 

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back. 

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk. 

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug. 

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face. 

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs. 

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests. 

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women. 

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins. 

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking. 

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world. 

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette. 

“Clém-” Azzi sighs. 

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home. 

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand. 

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence. 

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip. 

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless. 

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up. 

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly. 

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently. 

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns. 

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air. 

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door. 

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles. 

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand. 

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally. 

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow. 

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously. 

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much. 

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound. 

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells. 

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right. 

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi. 

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first. 

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder. 

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs. 

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice. 

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

[emmiesoverthemoon]

⭑ come back to me

Pairing: g-dragon/ kwon jiyong x reader

Word Count: 4,550

Summary: Three years after you left your ex-boyfriend after he insulted your small modelling career, you reunite at a prestigious annual fashion gala.

Tags: second chance, hurt/comfort, slight angst, happy ending, exes-to-soon-to-be-lovers

cross posted on ao3 here

Today, you are one of the biggest names in the fashion industry, known for your beautifully authentic and original image that deserves the largest frame in an art gallery, the centre point on a stage, the brightest on a runway. Your confidence is effortless, your alluring demeanour sparked inspiration in many brands, designers, and agencies. You are the world’s muse, and clothing garments are their medium, created perfectly for you with intentions of highlighting and enhancing your natural elegance and grace.

No matter how dim a room’s lighting scheme could be, Jiyong could always spot you in a crowd. To him, your spectacular warm, inviting glow reflected upon any surroundings and ensured that any space you were to enter became infinitely more beautiful. Selfishly, all he wanted to do was bask in your luminescence and indulge himself into you, worshipping you as if you were a deity, deeming him fortunate enough for you to call his very name. He once did indulge himself, and held this to be his most favoured hobby, but he had ripped himself away from participating. He had some regrets, but some much, much larger than others.

The one that lay the heaviest on his conscious was you.

You, the one he once had the honour of calling his, and if he didn’t screw it up, he still would hold it close. You both had been an item for three years, the public being blissfully unaware of your relationship, as Jiyong knew how ruthlessly critical a portion the internet could be toward his potential suitors. He strove to keep you to himself; his sweet sweet little secret.

Of course, knowing the circumstances of his fame and career, you were okay with this. Naturally, however, you did yearn to be able to be a ‘normal’ couple; to be able to go out to dates, to hold hands in public, hell, even to just be able to leave the house together. But you never held him as responsible for your animosity towards the prying eyes of the media. You knew it was not his choice.

What was his choice, on the other hand, was how tightly he held the reins of his pride. Jiyong was a prideful man, he had every right to be, considering his achievements and successes. When you both were together, you were building yourself into the famous model you are today—attending as many castings as your manager could book you, walking as many shows varying in size as your heels could carry you, etc.—and obviously you were not as globally recognised as Jiyong. And on one evening, he made it apparent that he knew it well.

“Because you aren’t enough out there, unlike me. To them, I am leagues beyond you. I can’t have my image tainted with that."

The words sliced through your mind, each syllable lingering, replaying over and over. The weight of them felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the pleasant evening you had just shared moments ago. Not long ago, the two of you were laughing over dinner in his expansive, dimly lit home, talking about an upcoming gala. Jiyong had been invited for yet another year to one of the most exclusive fashion industry events, a cocktail affair where the names everyone recognizes congregate like icons in their own right. Your manager had miraculously secured you an invite—your first time attending. Your excitement was palpable, but so were your nerves.

This wasn’t just another party. This was your debut among the greats—the designers, the supermodels, the editors, all the ones whose names spark a fire in every aspirant’s chest. Your chance to cement yourself amongst your idols as someone who deserves their place alongside them. You were already second-guessing your wardrobe choice, wondering if your impression would hold up among legends. And the thought of possibly being seen with him, Jiyong, the elusive industry titan who you had been quietly involved with, made the evening feel like a balancing act. A part of you wanted to break the silence, make things public, even if just with a casual greeting, so that you could stop pretending in front of the world. But when you brought it up, Jiyong immediately dismissed the idea, his tone heavy with disdain.

A simple suggestion from you, one that felt innocent enough—a “meeting for the first time” in front of the cameras—was met with cold, condescending logic. “It would raise suspicions,” he had said dismissively. You tried to explain, to assure him that it would be harmless, a natural first step toward unveiling your relationship. But he wouldn’t hear it. “You” weren’t ready, “he” wasn’t ready—“the world” wasn’t ready, according to him.

And then, the words tumbled out of his mouth like a heavy, painful truth: “Because you aren’t enough out there unlike me. To them, I am leagues beyond you. I can’t have my image tainted with that."

The sting of his declaration hit you like a physical blow. You could feel your chest tighten, the air in your lungs suddenly too thick to inhale. In an instant, you stood up from the table, your chair scraping loudly against the floor, the echoes of the sudden movement cutting through the thick, glossy silence of the room. You didn’t look back. You grabbed your purse, hands trembling slightly as you made for the door. Every step you took toward the exit was a battle against the burning, threatening tears that hovered just behind your eyes. But you would not let him see you break—not now, not ever. His words had revealed something you couldn’t ignore: he had made his opinion clear, and it wasn’t one you could reconcile. You were beneath him. And you refused to let that stand.

Jiyong called after you, his voice rising, a mixture of immediate regret and desperation. "I didn’t mean it that way," he tried, but the excuses came too late. "I didn’t word it right." He sounded pitiful, but you weren’t interested in his explanation. You had heard everything you needed to.

The door slammed behind you, cutting off his voice.

You didn’t hesitate. The last words you spoke to him echoed in the cool night air: “I’m sorry that I’m not good enough for your pathetic ego. Go find someone more famous than me who can knock you down a peg.”

That was the last time you saw or heard Jiyong. And for three years, you pushed the memory of him away. But tonight, as the gala approaches again, you find yourself standing on the cusp of another year, another invitation, another flight from Korea to Paris in anticipation. The past feels so distant now, but the thoughts of him, of that night, have a strange way of creeping back into your mind.

The gala is everything you’ve come to expect from a night like this—elegance woven into every moment, a sense of timeless luxury that settles over the room like a soft velvet curtain. The ballroom is vast, the ceiling high, adorned with grand crystal chandeliers that catch the light and scatter it in soft, sparkling patterns across the polished marble floors. There’s a gentle hum of conversations, laced with laughter, punctuated by the clink of champagne glasses. The air is fragrant with an intoxicating mix of expensive perfumes, floral arrangements, and the ever-present scent of Parisian sophistication. Soft jazz plays in the background, its notes curling through the air, blending perfectly with the low murmur of voices. The walls are draped in opulent fabric, gold accents framing the large windows that offer a glimpse of the twinkling stars against the night sky draped as a veil, casting cool night air over the city.

As you glide through the room, it’s as though the very space parts for you. Your presence is magnetic, not because of a need for attention but because it’s undeniable. You've been here before, after all—many times now. You’ve grown accustomed to this world, not as an outsider, but as one of its beloved stars. Fashion knows you well, adores you, and respects you. You are a staple at these events, not just because of your work but because of the way you carry yourself: effortlessly divine and poised. There's a sense of ease about you tonight, a calm under the bright lights and all the eyes that flicker toward you as you pass. Your gown, a delicate yet striking creation of silk, catching the light with every step. It moves with you, flowing like liquid metal, the intricate beading of the fabric shimmering like constellations scattered across the dress. You look flawless—radiant, understated, yet undeniably captivating.

The whispers of admiration follow you as you walk, but there’s no need for words to validate your presence; your confidence speaks volumes. Designers, photographers, models, and influencers all acknowledge you, whether with a simple nod or a quiet compliment. To them, you are more than just a face—they know the hard work, the hours of preparation, the dedication you pour into your craft. You’ve earned your place here, not by chance, but by sheer, unmatched talent and authenticity. And as you move further into the crowd, you are greeted by those who have become familiar faces—the editors, the stylists, the creatives who have watched your journey unfold and who continue to champion you. Tonight, as always, you are the epitome of elegance, the pulse of this glamorous world that thrives on beauty, ambition, and artistry. There’s a quiet power that radiates from you, a reminder that in a room full of luminaries, it is your presence that lingers longest in their minds.

Your heart skips a moment when you catch the sound of a strikingly familiar laugh from across the room. A sweet jingle the back of your mind yearned to hear over and over again, despite the hurt. Although it had been approximately three years since you left Jiyong’s home that night, a small part of you still missed him. You were unsure if you truly missed him, or if it was the idea of what your relationship was; his effect on you, the way he spoke to you, the way he knew exactly where to touch to have your eyes widening and your heart racing. You often wondered if your mind was trapped in a prison cell of nostalgic wonder, constantly torturing you with flashbacks to moments you once held dear.

You let your eyes gracefully and subtly wander across the room, trying to spot the source of the laugh. Once you spotted him, you subconsciously let out a small flinch; you caught him staring back at you. An unreadable expression was scrawled across his smooth complexion, trailing across your face, your neck, and down your figure as he soaked in the view he yearned to see the moment you left that night.

Your heart began to race—not pleasantly, no, alarmingly, the heightened walls of the ballroom begun to constrict around you, suddenly envisioning everything becoming a whole lot warmer, tighter. Once over yonder you would dream for this warm, cozy feeling, for caterpillars to deem your stomach a safe haven for them to cocoon into beautiful butterflies, fluttering and fuelling the blood to rush to your cheeks, creating a beautiful crimson hue that he adored seeing you clad in, knowing he was the reason for its existence in the first place. But now, the warmth was smothering, asphyxiating.

You were the first to break eye contact, your eyes nervous—no; anxious and stressed. The weight of his focus on you was too suffocating, too overwhelming, just too much to handle for even a second longer. You needed an escape, a sanctuary where you can breathe freely for god’s sake. The lurching of your heart into your trachea, the trembling travelling from inside your bones through to your intrinsic muscles of the hand, which expressed exteriorly through the rattle of your fingertips, were symptoms of him—his charisma and magnetism, ones that you needed to experience not a single moment more.

You huffed, a futile attempt to alleviate some of the discomfort in your chest and lungs. You needed to get out of this room before it closed in and swallowed you whole.

You found yourself drawn to the balcony which was situated across a restaurant, playing melodic jazz music, as you gaze to the stars, a melodic saxophone is there to provide a tune rich with passion and humanity to sway along to. You had expected Jiyong to be present once again, he was the G-Dragon, you were just foolish in assuming that the ballroom would be full enough to avoid his attention.

Unfortunately, this balcony-made-haven was not as safe as you might have assumed. Your trance of relaxation with the woodwind instrument snapped, your bubble burst by the sound of a door sliding open and closed. Damn you for assuming you’d be safe.

Jiyong steps out onto the balcony, his presence immediate, like a gust of wind before the storm. You decide to give him a glance over your shoulder, and suddenly you can’t help but feel the familiar heat return, the way his eyes have a way of pulling you in despite your best efforts. Jiyong’s small grin is knowing, enticing, a familiar curve of his lips that used to be your favorite sight in the world, and your favourite place to touch with your own cheesy smile. Used to be.

“I knew you’d love the view from here,” he says, his voice like a silk thread that winds around you, pulling tighter with every word. “You would always tell me that a clear view of the night’s sky could draw you out of anywhere.”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you turn to gaze at the bustling townspeople below, feeling the weight of the moment. Your chest tightens. You want to breathe in the night air, let it fill you and wash away the old memories, the ones of warmth and tenderness that feel so distant now. But he won’t let you have that peace.

“Still alive up there?” Although his words are light and hold no room for depth, his words drift toward you like his old cigarette smoke, curling, adhesive, and insistent. An invitation for conversation you did not want to open.

You force yourself to focus on the glow of the Eiffel Tower, the steady pulse of the lights from across the Seine. It’s easier than meeting his gaze, easier than acknowledging the quiet storm stirring between the two of you. You couldn’t believe your ears; after all this time with no attempt to contact you with an apology, he opened your first conversation with him with fallacious teasing.

“I’m silent for a reason, take a hint,” you say, intending to remain sharp, but the words are too soft, too hesitant. You don’t want to give him that satisfaction, but your heart betrays you in the quietest of ways.

Jiyong steps closer, the heat of his body seeping into the cool night, his scent—familiar and dangerous—wrapping itself around you. The tension crackles in the air like static before a lightning strike.

“Don’t do that,” he murmurs, his voice lowering to a dangerous level, the kind that still sends a shiver down your spine. “Don’t pretend you’re unaffected by me.”

His fingers brush against your arm, just enough to remind you of how well he knows the geography of your body. You swallow, biting your lip to keep the words in check. You feel your heart beating, begging you to fall back into him, but you know better. You cannot betray yourself like this.

“I’m not pretending,” you say again, but this time the words are hollow, thin, as if the very act of saying them is a lie.

He moves closer still, the space between you shrinking until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your neck, stirring the tendrils of your hair you spent so long to perfect. You can almost hear the beat of your pulse in your ears, the thrum of your blood, and you hate how it betrays you.

“I don’t want this,” you say, the words carrying edge now, cutting through the fog of memories that cloud your thoughts. “I don’t want that... pain from us.”

The words hang in the air, heavy, like the scent of rain before the downpour. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, his eyes fixed on you as though he’s searching for something. A crack. A softening. A moment when he can slip back in.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, and it’s not a question. It’s a statement, as if he knows you better than you know yourself.

You turn away, arms folding across your chest as though that could shield you from him. But it doesn’t. It never has. The tightness in your throat threatens to spill over, but you won’t let him see. You won’t let him win.

The balcony creaks underfoot as he steps closer again, his hand brushing against the railing as if searching for something solid to hold onto. You know the feeling. You’re both teetering on the edge, balanced precariously between what was and what will never be again.

“You’re still angry,” he says, his voice a low hum now, vibrating in the space between you. “You’re still upset that I... said that to you. That I caused us to fall apart.”

You choose not to indulge him with your gaze, but you can feel his gaze like a weight on your back, pulling you toward him. You don’t want to talk about it. Not now, not here, not with him. But you can’t ignore the truth in his words.

“I’m angry because you didn’t care,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper, as though the confession would break you if it were louder. “You didn’t bother to try to reach out to me; I would’ve answered my phone, you should’ve known be better than that. You let me go without a fight.”

His breath hitches, a moment of surprise before he steps even closer, too close now, his body pressing into yours like an immovable force.

“I’m still fighting,” he murmurs, the words brushing the shell of your ear, trying to engrave a promise in your eardrum.

You shake your head, pulling away, forcing space between you. But the crack in your voice betrays you. “It’s too late for that.”

And for a moment, the world seems to still. The city below, the hum of voices inside, the thrum of the night—it all fades into the distance. All that’s left is you and him, tangled in the past, standing on a precipice, neither one of you willing to take the step toward what might come next.

He watches you closely, his eyes darkened by something unspoken, a regret buried beneath the surface, and for a split second, you almost think he’s not the man you left behind. But then he smiles, a slow, arc of his lips that makes your stomach twist.

He says nothing, but slowly raises his arm to brush against your waist. Slowly enough so that if you so pleased, you could move away, move him away. He would respect that.

But you let it happen.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” He whispered, he’s close enough that you can feel the teasing, sensual tone licking against the slope of your neck where it meets with the base of your ear, reverberating through your head. He chuckles, his voice lowering, dripping with seductive teasing, forming a warm pit form in your stomach, “That is, if you want me to.”

You want to, oh god, you want to give in. You know he’s right, you were always one to give in to him; you were melting to fall right back into in his hands, and you knew it, he knew it. But instead, you don’t respond. You look out over the city once more, the lights shimmering beneath the weight of your silence. You wonder how much longer you can pretend that you’re not still tangled in the wreckage of everything you once had.

Juxtaposing your desires, you are a stubborn woman, and you need him to be aware of the pain he inflicted before he can be let in so easily. You suck in a deep breath, and your heels take one small, rushed step away.

“You know what?” you say, your voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “I’m tired of you pretending like you didn’t hurt me. You really think you can just waltz back into my life because you flash that damn grin and speak like that to me in that damn voice? Well, guess what, it’s not working anymore.”

He opens his mouth, but you don’t let him get a word in. You’re not finished.

“You said I wasn’t enough for you. And you didn’t just insult me verbally—you destroyed everything I thought we had. You invalidated and belittled everything I had worked toward at that point. Every single thing you said, every promise you made? It faded to nothing. You think you can apologize your way back in with some pitiful little look in your eyes? I’m not buying it.”

The words pour out of you, each one drenched in the venom of old wounds. You can feel the heat in your chest, the fire that’s been simmering for so long now rising to your throat. It’s so much easier to be angry than to be hurt, so much easier to tear him down than let him see how much he’s broken you.

“You don’t get to walk in here, after how high I have built myself, acting like I’m just supposed to forgive you, to fall for your charm. Do you think I’m naïve?”

There’s a moment of silence, and you take a second step back, finally meeting his eyes. But you see something you didn’t expect—something like regret, something deeper than just his usual smugness. And it stops you in your tracks.

“I’m not done,” you say, more quietly now, the edge of your anger still sharp but softer. “But I’ll tell you one thing—you don’t get me back with your words. Not with any of…” You wave your arms around, gesturing to the air between you. “This. You have to earn me back. You have to earn my trust again. And I don’t even know if I’ll let you. So, no, you don’t get to come back into my life that easily.”

You’re not prepared for the way your voice falters then, how it cracks and slips as you finish the last sentence. You hadn’t meant to break, not like this, but now that the anger is gone, the sadness rushes in. You don’t even try to hide it as the tears start to fall, hot and furious, blurring your vision. Your chest tightens, the lump in your throat suffocating you.

And there he is, standing in front of you—his eyes no longer filled with that arrogant glint, but something more raw, something that makes your heart stutter in a way you haven’t felt in months. Small tears brimming his eyes as well, he reaches out, his hand tentative at first, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

You don’t.

Jiyong’s hand lands on your arm, and the sensation of it feels like a remedy on a burn. He offers an embrace to soothe you, and you impulsively fall into him, not allowing your mind a chance take the wheel. You despise yourself for needing him like this.

“I was an idiot,” he says, his voice low, not the usual playful tone but something real, something genuine. “I know I hurt you. I know I hurt us. I wasn’t fair to you, and I can’t change that. I can’t take back the things I did, the things I said, but I am sorry. More than I could ever say. And I’ll keep saying it until you believe me, if that’s what it takes.”

You blink, a part of you wanting to reject it, to slap away the apology and keep holding onto your anger. But another part of you—the part that’s still so so tired—wants to believe him.

“You broke me. I trusted you, and you just let me leave. A single call would have been better than silence. I felt like you quickly moved on without even caring what your words did to me,” you softly cried, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

He steps closer, his hand still warm on your arm, and you don’t pull away, “I know. And I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was a coward. I was selfish. And I hurt the one person I never should’ve hurt.”

You swallow, another sob catching in your throat. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect him to apologise like this, so carefully, so thoughtfully. You didn’t expect him to look at you like he was the one who needed to heal. It does something to you, something you don’t know how to handle.

“I don’t know if I can ever trust you again,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I don’t know if I can forget how easily you let me go, after such a long time.”

He nods, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t deserve that trust, not yet. But I will work every single day to earn it. I’ll show you, if you’ll let me. I’ll earn your heart again. Not because I think I deserve it, but because I want to. Because I’m sorry—and I’ll show you that I can be the man you deserve.”

You sniff, gently wiling at your face, angry at yourself for letting your guard down, for feeling even the smallest glimmer of hope. But that’s the thing with him—he has a way of making you believe in something, even when you were sure you’ve shut that door and thrown away the key.

“You’ve got a long way to go,” you say, voice hoarse, but there’s something in it that feels like forgiveness. Not full forgiveness, not yet. But maybe—just maybe maybe it’s a start.

“I know, my love. I know,” his voice was no louder than a whisper, allowing you to fill space with your thoughts over his. He presses his lips against your forehead, which sends nostalgic sparks from the crown of your head, all the way through your torso and limbs, then inside your chest, electrifying your heart.

You remain in his arms for a moment longer, the weight of it all pressing in. You don’t say anything more. You don’t have to. The words, the apology, the admission—they hang between you like a fragile thread, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a sliver of something you thought was long gone.

Maybe you can forgive him. Maybe you can let him back in. But not now. Not yet. That is not something that can happen in just one night.

And for the first time in three years, you feel something more than anger. You feel hope—faint, fragile, but still there.

hey everyone! this is my first fic here! so i hope you like it! i was a bit nervous to post this :)

if there is anything specific youd like from me please don’t hesitate to let me know and i’ll do my best! :3

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Little Crush

Nat x Reader after Civil War feat. Steve and Sam

Summary: You and Nat get closer in your cabin in the woods, the question is, how close do you get?

Warnings: mutual pining, one swear word, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sad Steve, annoying Sam, one hot scene, implication of sex but not described

Word Count: 4.6k

Notes: Natasha calls reader krolik - meaning bunny/rabbit in russian. Reader sings and plays guitar

I recommend listening to the song Little Crush by Dianna Corcoran.

It took me over 2 weeks but I'm finally happy with this!

You were a S.H.I.E.L.D agent working under Clint and Natasha for a few years before the battle of New York. You knew Natasha from the red room. You were a few years younger than her but you still recognised her, how could you forget the woman that set you free. You were on the street when the Chituari attacked. You ran into battle and assisted the others, surprising them all with your skills. Natasha knew you could handle yourself but even she was surprised, she would never admit it but she thought you might even be as good as her. Might.

After defeating the army you were welcomed into The Avengers. You stayed close to Natasha more than the others as you still had a hard time trusting people, namely men. You slowly befriended Nat and learnt more about her. You and Clint were the only people who knew about Nat's little sister. She would tell you stories about Ohio when she'd had a few drinks and was reminiscent. You loved to hear stories about the two of them together.

You slowly let yourself get comfortable around the other Avengers but you were still weary. You didn't often sleep through the night as your nightmares would take over. When you couldn't sleep you trained, over and over again. You were an almost completely flawless fighter and in spectacular condition, but it was the only thing that could put your mind to ease, even slightly.

You fought alongside Natasha after the Sokovia Accords. You hated having to fight against the people you called friends, even family, but Natasha asked for your help so you did it. Even though you didn't enjoy hurting your friends you had to admit it felt pretty awesome when you knocked THE Captain America on his ass. You were a bit less than thrilled when a giant kicked you in the face but everything has its ups and downs. You managed to get away from the fight with just a few cuts and scrapes and maybe a broken rib here and there.

You told Nat about a cabin you inherited that would make the perfect safe house and you headed there with her.

After several different methods of transportation and hours of travel you and Nat finally arrived at your cabin.

Nat whistled "This is pretty fancy"

"Yeah, a few years back I found out that Dreykov didn't kill every family member I had. I had an aunt that left this for me"

"Sorry, krolik" She rested a hand on your back which you didn't quite brush off.

"Nah, 's fine. I didn't know she was alive before so why does it matter when she's dead?"

"Yeah" Nat exhaled, changing the subject "So wanna drop our stuff and go find some food?"

"God, do I ever"

You practically threw your bags in the door and went off in search of food. You found a little corner store, the only place still open at the late hour, and raided it for everything you should need for a while at least. You walked out to the car carrying 3 bags of groceries each.

"You think we got enough?" Nat said as she loads the bags in.

"Hey, I'm the one who cooks, aren't I?"

"Maybe, I haven't seen you put your skills to the test in a while"

"Just shut up and drive, Romanoff"

She started the car and looked in your direction with a smirk.

Once you get back you unload the groceries and get started on dinner. You decide to make mushroom stroganoff, you remember a story Nat told you about a time she made it for Yelena when they were little. That was always one of her favourite stories to tell and one you loved to hear.

Natasha was out the back chopping wood for the fire when she smelled the aroma flooding out the kitchen window. She walked up to the window and popped her head through.

"What's cookin' good lookin'?" She called out, scaring the living shit out of you and making you drop the ladle in your hand.

"Nat! You're lucky that wasn't our dinner!"

"Sorry, smells good. Is that mushroom stroganoff?"

"Yes, I remember a story you told me about Yelena and I thought you'd like it"

"Krolik, that's so sweet"

"Well you kinda saved my ass when that giant almost squished me, so I guess I owe ya"

"How much do you owe me?"

"What have you done now?"

"Nothing! I could just use a hand moving some of this wood. Where's a super soldier when you need one huh?"

"Probably with his icy boyfriend"

"I told you they're not dating"

"I'll believe it when they stop looking at each other like that"

"Like what?"

"Like the way you look at that beer" You point with your ladle, emphasising your point.

"You mean my soulmate?"

"Exactly"

"So, you gonna help me or just stand there and look pretty?"

"You think I'm pretty, why Natasha I'm flattered!"

"Yeah, yeah, get on with it"

"I'll be out in a sec, just gotta turn off the stove. We don't want a repeat of what happened in that b&b, do we?"

"It was one time! You are never gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nat, you set the kitchen on fire"

"I set the kitchen on fire ONCE, now you won't even let me near a lighter"

"It's called self preservation, I think you should try it"

With that you closed the window, after Nat gave you the finger, and went outside to help her. You got the wood in and started the fire, just in time to sit down for dinner.

"Thank you" Nat whispered into her bowl.

"Are you thanking the mushrooms for their great sacrifice?"

"No, idiot. I'm thanking you"

"Well you're welcome and you're lucky I like to cook"

"Not just for dinner, for everything. Not many people would become internationally wanted criminals, leave their life behind and live in the woods for someone so, thanks"

"Eh 's no biggie. I didn't really have a life before you anyways"

"You know" She takes in a deep breath "Never mind" She sighs.

"What? Too much salt?"

"Nah, it's perfect"

You and Nat had both gone to bed hours ago but you were still awake. Just lying in bed in your room and staring up at the ceiling. You had gone to sleep pretty quickly but you had a nightmare, a nightmare you couldn't bear to think of, a nightmare about Natasha. You knew it wasn't real but that didn't provide you with much solace.

You decided to get up, maybe walking around the cabin would help, at this point you were willing to try anything. You went for a walk outside, taking in the night air, fresh smells of trees and pine cones and the sweet early morning bird songs. You walked for what felt like ages just the crickets and crunch of grass underfoot to keep you grounded, to keep you from drifting away and possibly never coming back. You made your way back to the cabin just before sunrise. You thought it might be nice to get a good few of the sunrise so you climbed up the ladder on the side of the building and sat on the rooftop. It was oddly calming, a feeling that you rarely felt. Whenever you do feel calm it's usual because of Natasha, she makes you feel safe when you never thought anyone could. You sat up there for a while before you started to hum. It wasn't something you chose to do it was more, subconscious, you just started to hum.

Nat heard the humming and checked your room, but you weren't there. She checked the whole house but you were nowhere to be found. She knew you liked to go on walks to clear your head so she went to look for you. Not too long after, you felt a presence next to you. She sat with you for a moment, not saying anything, as she knew sometimes it was better for you to just sit in silence with someone. After a little while you rested your head on her shoulder and she welcomed the touch. You had maintained your usual demeanour around her but you seemed to hold yourself back since Germany. You hadn't said anything, you wouldn't, but she could tell something was off. She knew you very well and she knew that the fight had impacted you more than you let on.

"I miss them"

"I know, I do too"

Those were the only words the two of you spoke for a long time, you just stayed together. Her arm came and wrapped around your shoulder and she held you close. She felt so guilty for what she had dragged you into, she thought you resented her but you could never.

Since that day, whenever you needed a break you would go up to the roof and whenever Nat couldn't find you she knew you were there. Weeks went by and you still had your little routine of whenever you felt overwhelmed, you'd go up to the roof and after a while Nat would come and sit with you. It was nice to have something that needed no explanation, it was nice to have that time with Nat, just sitting together.

You decided to go through all the stuff in the attic while Nat was getting supplies in town. You found all kinds of your aunt's old belongings. You were surprised that she actually had pretty good taste, there were some nice clothes, old records, a few good books and a guitar. You can't remember the last time you picked up a guitar, you learned to play years ago but between being an Avenger and running from the government you haven't had much time to practise. You unlocked the case and picked it up, it was still in tune and you strummed your fingers across the strings. Before you knew it you were playing some old melody mindlessly.

"I didn't know you could play" Nat's voice came from behind you, startling you and causing you to almost drop the guitar.

"Oh, um, hi" You stuttered nervously.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked"

"Guess I didn't. Next thing, you're gonna tell me you're a singer"

You looked down shyly.

"You're not, are you?"

"I wouldn't say I'm a singer but I've been told I don't exactly sound like a cat being strangled"

"Could you sing something for me?"

"Uh, sure"

You start to strum the guitar and begin to sing.

A long, long time ago I can still remember how that music Used to make me smile And I knew if I had my chance That I could make those people dance And maybe they'd be happy for a while

But February made me shiver With every paper I'd deliver Bad news on the doorstep I couldn't take one more step I can't remember if I cried When I read about his widowed bride Something touched me deep inside The day the music died

Natasha immediately recognised the song and closed her eyes, listening to it and remembering Yelena.

So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', "This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die"

Did you write the book of love? And do you have faith in God above If the Bible tells you so? Now, do you believe in rock 'n' roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance real slow? Well, I know that you're in love with him 'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym You both kicked off your shoes Man, I dig those rhythm and blues I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck With a pink carnation and a pickup truck But I knew I was out of luck The day the music died

I started singin', bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye And singin', "This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die"

You looked up to see Natasha crying and you stopped immediately.

"I'm sorry, I thought you'd like it"

"No, I do. I just miss Yelena and whenever I heard that song I think of her"

"I shouldn't have played it, I was insensitive"

"Krolik, you were trying to do something nice and I really appreciate it, don't feel bad about that"

You walked over to her and wrapped your arms around her, enveloping her in a soft, warm hug. She wept in your arms for a while, finally letting herself miss her sister.

That day pushed you over the edge. You knew you had a crush on Nat but that's all you thought it was, a little crush. But holding her in your arms as she laid all of her feelings on you, trusting you with them, with herself, that changed everything. You couldn't deny it any longer, you were in love with her. You were so in love with her it hurt. You were at that stage, the stage where if she smiled you smiled and if she hurt you hurt. You wished you didn't feel like this, you hoped, begged and prayed that these feelings would go away but you still loved her.

You knew that you couldn't literally run from your problems but going for a long run was the only way you could think of to clear your head. You often went for midnight runs, they made you feel alive. You could feel your blood, you could feel it pumping through you, through your big dumb heart. You just kept running and before you knew it, hours had passed. You made your way back to the cabin and you flipped onto your bed. You felt defeated, like somehow running didn't get rid of your feelings. You laid there for a while, still not being able to sleep. You turned over and saw that old guitar you had found in the attic. You walked over and took it in your arms, brushing your fingers along the strings. You didn't know what was happening exactly, it was almost like the melody was coming from within you. It was like your were pouring your heart and soul into the notes and it was helping. Not by a huge amount but it was like a small part of the weight on your shoulders was lifting, so you kept playing. After a while you sang, not much just....something.

When Nat woke up she walked past your room and heard you. She just stood in the doorway, watching you and listening to you, listening to your beautiful voice.

I know this smile That's on my face I know this feeling I know this place

I know it well 'cause I've been here before But this time I'm lookin for so much more Gotta let out gotta let you know Oh oh oh

That I've got a little crush on you And I could let it go but I don't want too I lose control when we're together I wanna kiss you, hug you, touch you, love you, caress you I'm totally obsessed with you Let's turn this crush into forever Into forever yeah

I know this look That's in my eyes Givin' out my secret It's no surprise

That I've been walking on air for quite some time With a strong ambition to make you mine Gotta let it out Gotta let you know Oh oh oh

That I've got a little crush on you And I could let it go but I don't want too I lose control when we're together Oh I wanna kiss you, hug you, touch you, love you, caress you I'm totally obsessed with you Let's turn this crush into forever Into forever yeah

I wanna kiss you I wanna hug you I wanna touch you Baby let me love you

And I got a little crush on you And I could let it go but I don't want too I lose control when we're together Hey I wanna kiss you, hug you, touch you, love you, caress you I'm totally obsessed with you Let's turn this crush into forever

I wanna kiss you, hug you, touch you, love you, caress you I'm totally obsessed with you Let's turn this crush into forever Into forever yeah

You looked up from the instrument in your hands and saw the morning light peeking through the curtains. You stood up and turned around to see Nat, who upon seeing you, started to fumble and blush.

"Oh uh, hey" She barely spoke above a whisper.

"Morning Nat, what um, what are you doing here?" You asked, rubbing the back of your neck anxiously.

"Nothing, just, walking past"

"So you didn't happen to, hear anything?"

"No, nothing at all"

"Oh, good. I mean not good, not bad either, I-I-I just mean there was nothing to hear"

"And I didn't hear it"

"Right"

"Okay"

Nat scurried off to the kitchen, trying to flee from what was very possibly the most awkward conversation in human history. You knew she heard you, how could she not? She was probably just being nice, sparing your feelings by ignoring the situation. But in doing that she ignored you. She avoided you for days and you thought you'd ruined the only true friendship you had ever had. She told you she had to leave for a few days and as much as you wanted to, you didn't argue with her.

You heard a loud, windy noise outside and you peered through the window to see a jet landing in front of your cabin. You thought that the government had finally found you but then you saw Natasha step out with short blonde hair, that was her, wasn't it? You opened the door and went to see her.

"Changed your hair?"

"Yeah, you like it?"

"Yep, suits you"

"Thanks"

"So, what's the deal with that?" You ask, pointing to the jet behind her.

"We're gonna go and pick up some friends, that is, if you'll come?"

"Course I will, I didn't think you'd want me"

"I always do, you know that"

You just look at each other for a few minutes with soft smiles on your faces, both of you choosing to ignore what had happened before she left.

"Do I need to pack a bag?"

"Probably just a change of clothes and some weapons"

"Sweet" You walked back up to the door and reached a hand inside, pulling out a black duffel bag "Let's go"

"You keep one of those by the door too?"

"And under the bed"

"You're more like me than I thought"

"You're more like me than I thought"

She just looked at you and smiled as you walked to the jet.

"Nat?"

"Yeah?"

"Was that explosion on the news you?"

"Yeah"

"Bitch"

"What?"

"You know I love explosions, you should've invited me"

"Next time, Krolik"

You boarded the jet and flew off to get your friends. Together.

You dropped Clint and Scott off with their families and Wanda with Vision. You and Nat brought Steve and Sam back to the cabin.

"If I had known you were loaded I would've kissed up to you a lot more" Sam said as he walked through the door.

"Don't think you could, you'd have to stop kissing Steve's ass for a second and I don't think that's possible"

"Damn, how long have you been saving that one up for?"

"A while"

"You have a very lovely home" Steve said as he turned to you.

"It's not really mine"

"What do you mean?"

"I killed a bunch of nuns and took their house"

"What?! You killed nuns?!"

"No but that never gets old. It was my aunt's, she died"

"Oh, I'm sorry"

"Pigeon Boy, your room is down here"

"Come on! At least say Pigeon Man"

"No chance, Steve, your on the left"

"Oh you just did that to piss me off" Sam retorted.

"Why Samuel, whatever do you mean?" You asked in a faux innocent tone.

"You know"

"Why don't we just settle in?" Steve asked.

"Go, I'll get started on dinner"

"You can cook?"

"Yeah, a hell of a lot better than you, too"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah"

"Just go to your room Wilson" Nat said, in an already tired tone.

The boys got settled in their rooms and you went through every recipe book you had, trying to find the best thing you could make to prove Sam wrong. You cooked a beautiful meal, which Sam reluctantly admitted and you all went to bed. You were able to get some sleep but still not much.

You enjoyed spending all of that down time with the others, it was nice to have people around, you had forgotten what it was like. Except in the mornings, then you hated it. Sam always took really long showers and rarely left any hot water so you had to get up way too early if you wanted to have one and you forgot how many punching bags Steve went through, literally.

There was still a lot that was left unsaid and a lot of tension hanging over you all so you decided to fix that. You were never one for sharing your feelings so you picked the best thing you could think of to break the ice. Alcohol. You drove to the liquor store in town and loaded up with plenty of vodka and beer.

"Alright" You said as you placed a bottle of vodka and four shot glasses on the table "Drink up"

"Why do you want us to drink? And why are there four glasses, I can't get drunk" Steve questioned while Sam and Nat started pouring.

"We are drinking to loosen up and yes, you can get drunk" You answered as you pulled a small vial out of your pocket "Asgardian liquor, I got some off Thor last time he was here"

"He just gave it to you? He wouldn't give any to me" Sam muttered the last part.

"He said, and I quote "As you are the only mortal I trust to be responsible with it, here, some of the finest liquor in all of Asgard!" You accentuated the last part.

"He really said you were the only one he trusted?"

"I quoted"

Sam grumbled a little to himself and downed a shot "Holy shit! What is this, lighter fluid?"

You and Natasha both yelled out "Language!" and laughed.

"That was like 2 years ago guys" Steve moaned.

"We know" Nat quipped.

You continued to drink for a while and you started off with simple questions, testing the water.

"Best fight?" Sam asked.

"I've gotta say, the time I knocked Captain America on his ass" You looked to Steve with a big grin.

"Well I've got ya beat"

"Oh do tell"

"I punched Hitler"

"What?! Why don't they put that in the museums?!" You blurted.

"Well I think we've established a clear winner" Nat awarded.

"Thank you, thank you, you're too kind" Steve bowed like he was accepting an award.

"Kay, how about, biggest regret?"

"Damn, Sam. Getting kinda dark" Nat said.

"Leaving Peggy and Bucky" Steve almost whispered into his glass.

You scoot closer to him and pat a hand on his shoulder "You did what you had to and you didn't know about him"

"Mm, still"

Natasha looked at you, showing comfort and compassion to a man you had resentful feelings for not too long ago and she thought about one of her regrets. She thought about that day she heard you singing about a crush, she thought about how much she wished you were singing about her. She poured a shot and downed before pouring another.

Seeing how sad it made Steve to think about Peggy you thought about your biggest regret and in your alcohol fuelled haze you stood up and walked over to Natasha. You leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss, soft and sweet while you were full of nerves. You pulled away and Nat looked up to you, her lips slightly parted as she was still in shock.

"Finally" Sam leaned over to Steve and whispered.

"I'm sor-

Nat's lips against yours shut you right up. Your mouths moved together in perfect synchronicity, tongues fighting and teeth clashing. You broke apart, gasping for air and you took her hand in yours, guiding her to your room.

"Goodnight?" Sam asked, sarcastically confused.

As soon as you entered your room you threw the door shut and pressed Nat up against it. "You sure?" You asked, your breath hot against her face, reassuring her that she was certain.

She looked up at you through thick lashes, her eyes glowing as she nodded yes. You swear you stopped breathing for a moment, the moment you leaned in. You had just kissed her but this felt...real. Your face gradually approached hers, your gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips. Her beautiful pink lips that you now knew tasted sweeter than you ever could've imagined. Your mouths moulded together as if you were once one perfect being, only now finding each other again. Your hand cradled the back of her head and her palm slid up your arm and up to your face. Her thumb gently grazed along your cheek making you quiver. Your other hand was pressing into her side, not too hard but hard enough that she felt it. You walked over to the bed, not breaking apart for a second. She leaned back against the pillows and pulled you with her. You hovered over her, kissing her deeply and moving slowly with her. Your lips moved further down, sucking and kissing and biting purple marks all over the soft slope of her neck. You pulled her shirt off along with your own and tossed them to the side. Your fingers toyed with her bra clasp, teasing her. She writhed under you, you weren't sure if she was trying to get her bra off or to feel some kind of friction, either way you loved it. She let out a soft whimper, the sound boring through you. You bit her lip for making such tantalising sounds. You re-positioned yourself and set to work on making her feel more than she ever had before, you had a very interesting night ahead of you.

You woke up with her in your arms, she looked angelic. He hair fell across her face, her lips parted as she slept and she was illuminated in a beautiful golden hue. Your hand brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and you leaned down to kiss her. You felt her lips moving back against yours, notifying you that she was awake.

"Good morning"

"Mmm, morning Krolik"

"Last night was"

"Amazing"

"Yes it was"

You laid together for a while, taking comfort in each other's warm embrace.

"You know" She started, somewhat unsure "I did hear you, singing. It was beautiful"

"It was about you"

"It was?"

You laughed quietly "Who else?"

She just stared up at you smiling, God how she loved you "Well then what do you say?"

"To what?"

"Do you want to turn this crush into forever?"

"Nothing would make me happier"

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342 @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @yelldontwhisper @justhereforthememesnangst @lonely-core

[fccloveii]

Eren Jeager's Masterlist

🗝!! ✧✦. (¡¡Non of the works archieved here are mine!!)

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Hello!! I hope that everyone who read this are doing great!!

Today I decided to post a masterlist of all my favorite eren jaeger fanfics/one-shots I have ever read. I'm mostly doing this because I felt like some of this masterpieces deserved much more attention, moreover I realize that most of the writing under eren's hashtag were about smut, degradation, eren being toxic, etc. And it was getting quite tiring. Therefore I figured I could make my own masterlist and share to the world my amazing findings.

You’re free to comment recommendations if you have any too!! (not but fr I have read everything and I need more 🥲)

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• THIRTEEN by emefaerie (wattpad and ao3)

By far the best fanfic I have ever read. Not only because of the plot (which is amazing, the author is a genius) but the writing is to die for and the characters are soo well written. Everything about this book is perfect!! It covers from childhood friends to lovers, to enemies to lovers, to strangers to lovers and is just amazing!! And the way that the main 2 ache for eachother leaves with nothing but to wish that a love like that finds you.

• COMRADES by emefaerie (wattpad and ao3)

I love this author so much you guys have no idea, this was my favorite story for soo long. Like I said the writing is from another world. Emotions are so well descripted and the way that the author managed to fit the reader in such a complete way in the original plot from the anime is literally perfect. The relationship of the main 2 is such a roller coaster of emotion that you never stop to want more. Emefaerie never dissapoints.

• To love a liar by butterflytint (wattpad)

Kind of reminds me of parasite but is also so different at the same time. The writing is also spectacular and the emotions are so well descripted. The hurt/comfort in here is literally perfect and the slowburn is amazing.

• For you by simp4eren (wattpad)

Soo so good!! The slowburn is also amazing and the topics are also described perfectly. This one was like my second favorite fanfic of eren, literally perfect!!

• CAMGIRL by D1CKTATED (wattpad)

Sadly is not yet finished and the chapters are pretty short but the build up is exciting!! The relationship between the main characters is really interesting too and the plot leaves you wanting more.

• method acting by @seeingivy (tumblr and ao3)

Also a childhood friends to lovers (I'm a sucker for those). Perfect way to write emotions and her eren is literally one of my favorite one. The plot is soo good and jealousy is everything in this fic. Describes everything that happens in the acting industry so well that you feel like you’re in it. Soo so good!!

• Just a friendly kiss by princess_okkotsu (ao3)

Fluff, fluff and fluff. This one-shot heals every angst of all the books before mentioned. Is short but is worth reading. And is perfect because is a best friends to lovers (my favorite trope tbh)

• Easy, baby by prettyboykatsuki (ao3)

Childhood friends to lovers in all its glory (also a one-shot). So well written and the tension is just ughhh. I just wish he was real.

• Hate you too. by Kuro_no_Ai_Hime (ao3)

Enemies to lovers!! Mostly a two-shot centered in smut but the plot is also really good. The tension between the two is also to die for. I also love this one because is not a modern au and it happens during the scouts, and those are my favorite type of fanfic. (Can you believe that this was published before season 2 and 3 like omg)

• Serendipity by aspynxcea (ao3)

What a book, holy shit. The slowburn is perfect and it kind of like a “she felt first, he felt harder” but also a enemies to lovers. Emotions here are also pretty well written and the drama fits really well into the plot. Love this book!!

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Hope you all send love to this amazing authors and if you have any recommendation please let me know!! (Preferably a childhood/best friends to lovers)

🤍.

[violestars]

𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Sunday x male reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: childhood friends to best friends to nothing au, where rejecting your confession is worth more than the pain of infecting your perfect image with his sinful existence.

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: not proof read, !!only male readers!!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: yandere-ish?,maybe ooc, mention of religion, implied homophobia, angst no comfort, just depressing.

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: part 1, part 2

Your childhood friend is a rather confusing fellow, to the point where one would think his significant other, if he ever has one, is the type to do riddles for fun. You also love riddles but moreover, you love him. Can anyone blame you? You were consumed by these feelings in your undeveloped mind. Seven was the age you fell for Sunday, for the charming boy that is your childhood friend. Maybe it was just some puppy love between two foolish kids but no one can explain the bubbling excitement in your stomach whenever a barely visible pout was drawn on his face, whenever he uses sugar coated words to kindly ask others to leave you two alone or how his clinginess to you was shown so slyly. You were an equal to Sunday and it has left a sweet taste on your tongue till this day.

As you grow older, your mind started to question this fondness for him. You were taught love doesn't need any explanation but you aren't dumb, there are always reasons behind everything. Even the unknown comfort, warmness one could find in another is also a reason. You knew that because you have experienced it with Sunday but that wasn't your concern, for now at least. Deep down you knew this love for the other male wasn't merely a mystery, your relationship did not belong in those cheap romcoms you two would binge on a sunday night. Was it more evident on the day you went crying to him about your religious mother? Was it because of the warm hands that traced your cheeks, causing you to lean into such softness as he teased you with a coo? How you wished he could repeat his supposedly sin against his perfectionist family's belief was the attraction to the same gender, how the boyish smirk once he admitted how good rebellion feels.

School isn't your strongest suit and you beat yourself up for that, it also didn't help knowing your insecurity enabled the hatred from others. From family to friends, even strangers, their greatest gift to you was just pitiful stares. Sunday was different though, the soft smile that never fails to comfort you, the warm embrace of the only friend you can lean on, he was truly a breath of fresh air throughout suffocating days of school. The only subject you were good at is literature but the skills you've gained failed to form a clear answer to why your best friend has never doubted you. Asking him yourself only made the progress more complicated for both your mind and heart, as he flicked your head and told you about how much he worried more about your efforts than some silly printed texts.

“Your mind is built from poetry, not numbers, my little train-wreck.” You remembered his soothing voice right beside your ear, ignoring his ways with words and how it shaded your tear-stained canvas a light red, you let out a weak chuckle to lighten the mood.

“And yours is built of riddles. I'm not stable enough to solve one right now, Sun.” Your lighthearted response only brought him to laughter, a smile now placed onto your face as you silently hoped he would drop whatever sentimental words he just thought of since it was already as awkward as it could be. Who in their right mind would ask their best friend to climb through the bedroom window just because regrets were hitting too hard at 3 am? The guy has a controlling family for god's sake.

“You let people treat you so poorly just because of a subject, or it is everything about you throws them off. Why, though? You might think you're weird but I feel like you're just performing. A spectacular show that doesn't meet its audience, so desperately wants to be heard.”

As you thought you couldn’t drown yourself in thoughts of him further, this only deepened it. How you wondered if he actually has a third eye, silently guilding your thoughts to their respective docks. In your mind, he is the epitome of elegance, sometimes you wonder if the word is made specifically for him. Sunday is just perfect, while in one way he was expected to be due to being the adopted son of such a high status family, you felt like he doesn't even have to try. He handled stressful situations with ease, he joked it's you who taught him so with your antics. You two are the polar opposite, yet it felt like two puzzle pieces finding each other, different notes that falls in tune. You wondered how he tolerated everything throughout the years, not that you were complaining, it was just your anxiety often questions the authenticity of this friendship but as his hand cradled your face, the usual smile reserved for only you entered the view, you knew the dreams about him were real because Sunday adores you.

Unfortunately, your dreams crashed. You mentally cursed him for ruining everything, but it was not his fault he couldn't reciprocate those feelings, it was not his fault he is destined for greatness and you are the loser that existed. You knew you were being petty but it hurt how everything turned out to be a cacophony in disguise, how you two favored the full moon that night like the way you favored each other. Well, the way you favored him. Sunday wouldn't know all these shameful thoughts, you only nodded at his kind refusal with choked breaths after all. His frown only deepened once he noticed how tears sharp as the finest blade threatened to fall from your eyes and slice through his heart, but he didn't say anything. It hurts that your feelings were treated like a slipped word, a dumb accident, by both you and mostly him.

He knew you're worried, he was trained to be attentive to every change to his surroundings yet here he was, hands in a tight grip like how his thoughts were tied together in a messy knot. Sunday has been avoiding you, not right after the night of your confession though, he wasn't that cruel but he was evil enough to do it after reassuring you, hoping you would not throw away such unshakable friendship. Reason was, Sunday didn't know why he couldn't accept your love, he should have trust in every card he played, that was what they taught him.

It just tasted bitter. He isn't a saint, he hoped you also knew that, his mouth is filled with lies and his existence needs to be soaked in soap. In other words, Sunday is a freak of nature. Him and his sister were adopted to a rich family after the passing of their parents. Sadly enough, he still felt like nobody's son, his every step reminds him of walking on fragile ice under the threatening gaze of his so-called guardians but he still walks anyways. His sister, Robin, has her own dreams to fulfill and no one will dared to rewritte her role into another plaything for the Gods. That's why Sunday will carry all the burdens, the responsibility that will never be put onto Robin's freely spread wings and he works hard to keep it that way.

Sunday lived in this facade that is made of others' desires, he was a trapped bird that pretends to be an eagle, he felt like the strongest piece but never the mastermind. Unlike him, his darling was the salvation humanity carved for all their miserable life, you were the living proof that the lord heard his songs. You slowly metamorphosed into his only God though, Sunday believed his schemes were always concealed because he worshiped you. Sunday believed you didn't exist because he was only worthy of your afterimage. You were and are his 'father', his entire universe. He shamefully found himself praying to your name against the family's knowledge, images of your beauty embroidered in his mind rather than any flight of fancy.

But how Sunday loathed himself, how pitiful is he if everyone were starting to lead their own life yet he was still following a script, how unfortunate is he if the boy of his dreams felt like the vast sky from his cage. Why does one feel deep disgust within but still mindlessly follows the same path? He wanted to fly upward, to feel your touch but the sky is unreachable and so is you. Sunday knows his love for you like the back of his hand, it's more than the platonic feeling towards his sister and the ambition towards a perfect future, it's the only thing the family didn't plant into his mind at such a young age. His love for you felt like the only thing he could freely express.

You knew he wished to live in a dreamscape, where he would generate happiness for the unfortunates but you don't know this dreamland of his sprouted from the purest of love for you. Those troublesome worries won't reach you there, he swore upon his life that he would shield you away from this brutal world in your new home. You only laughed at his silly delusion though, you never wanted to live in a lie and he knew that clearly. Sunday envied that part of you, he detested how strong you are despite all attempts to drag you down but maybe that's what confirmed his feelings towards you.

You were able to confuse Sunday in the best way possible. You could sob about how ugly you are, complain about your failure of a life and hatred for reality but in the end, you didn't mean it. You wanted to live for the imperfect tomorrow, you wanted to erode a stone that is your destiny with him, with Sunday. Yes, that's what you are. So imperfectly beautiful as he's perfectly fake. That's why he would push you away, as unreasonable as his actions were, he will not taint your future and dirty your determination, this kaleidoscoping pain shall never reach your ears. Sunday doesn't want anyone to find out you're his weakness, he doesn't want to acknowledge you're the sweet reality to his pained dream. He was happily in your shadow even if he could catch a glimpse of your performance.

Sunday loves you so he will let you go.

© art by @/Ceoretkr on twt

[tortureddarkstar]

✩ WHITE XMAS

IM DREAMING OF A WHITE CHRISTMAS / / JUST LIKE THE ONES I USED TO KNOW

DEAN WINCHESTER X ANGEL!READER

MINORS DNI.

✩ BACK TO… NOURA’S CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

summary: christmas in heaven was spectacular compared to earth, dean was determined to bring that beauty to the bunker

warnings: fluff!!!! kissing, littlest amount of angst

inspired by: white xmas- sabrina carpenter

dean winchester would watch you all day if he could. his pure-as-snow angel, spinning in the snow of the machine he’d procured for the holidays.

dean noticed you were extra quiet during the christmas season, you stared more often out the window and not at him, you spent more time outside and wandering around heavens gateways. when he asked castiel about this sudden change in behaviour, the answer was not one dean was prepared for.

“she mourns heaven. her time there, especially during this season.” he’d told the hunter, monotonous as ever, however his eyes told dean all he needed to know.

dean couldn’t let his angel, the purest light in his life not be happy during one of his favourite times of the year. so, he set out to make your first official christmas on earth and with the winchester’s the best ever.

he found a snow machine, got the biggest tree that could fit in the bunker and piled as many gifts that could fit underneath it. all to see that smile grace your face once again.

you got out of bed on christmas morning to a certain emptiness where dean would usually lay. you never slept, but noticed that dean slept better with you there, so for the better half of the year, you’d been ‘sleeping’ in his room.

“dean?” you called out, wandering out of deans room and into the maze-like hallway of the bunker. you had forgone pants during the night since the bunker was usually at a comfortable temperature, yet you felt a small shiver as you sought out your lover.

“in here, sweetheart!” he replied. it sounded as if he was near the foyer of the bunker, where you felt it was coldest.

“dean, the bunker isn’t usually this cold-“ you had cut yourself off to take in the sight before you- a flurry of what appeared to be snow, falling on top of probably the largest tree you’d seen in your millions of years. dean had decorated it with baubles and tinsel, white as the snow that fell around you both, but left the top empty.

“dean, what is this?” the smile he adored had returned to adorn your face, even brighter than ever as you twirled around, laughing and taking in the snowglobe he’d built for you.

“merry christmas, dove.” dean moved closer to you, one hand loose around your waist and the other cradling your face, bringing you in for a feather-light kiss.

“merry christmas, dean.” you beamed. you leaned back to feel him place a dove shaped tree-topper in your hand, as if your smile couldn’t get bigger.

to be loved, is to be seen. and dean saw you, feathers and all.

a/n: yay!! my christmas special is done!!! for someone who doesn’t even celebrate this was crazy lol. i just love the holiday season. anyway!!!! this was super fun, love you all lots

-n x

[starshipsofstarlord]

not yet corpses. still, we rot.

summary. you were surviving after the prison fell, whilst you felt lost deep inside of yourself. without daryl, and the others that you had lost and yet to find, everything only seemed to get worse. and all was proven when the claimers interrupted your futile attempts of avoiding nightmares

warnings. death, gore, violence, angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of s.a, mentions of death

notes. i changed the specification of the timeline a tiny bit, i moved the timeline of the smut into a flash back as in my head y/n and daryl would be too on guard to fuck after all that trauma. i hope you enjoy my attempt at writing your request, i’d love to know your thoughts 🖤

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

The crickets sung as aspiring performers in the midst of the fire’s crackling, you were cold, tired and hungry, and all that you wanted to hear was the epiphany of silence. Each limb in your body ached sourly from the endless trekking that you had participated within, the chance to close your eyes and rest sounded spectacular.

But you refrained from succumbing to a fuelling slumber, for you would only be haunted by the reality of the situation that you had no home, and members of your found family were lost to the land that crawled with ravenous walkers… or dead.

The warmth provided from the flames was greatly appreciated by your bumpy flesh, and you stared distantly into the licking of sunset coloured mirage of the makeshift campfire. It dried the whites of your eyes to an irritating texture, however it was better than facing the truth behind the pitiful glances that the three survivors that you had structured the prison alongside donated in your direction.

You weren’t looking for sorrowful attention, you just wanted to find as many of your group as you could, selfishly Daryl more than others. The plain silver band on your finger glinted from the source of radiating and manmade light, flickering your memory back to you and Daryl tying the knot in a place that you had hoped would remain secure.

If it wasn’t for the Governor and his manipulated army, then it would have. You were glad they had their fates, or at least you assumed they all had considering the destruction that had been waged in the graveyard like grounds. There were countless lives that you had ensured were ended as you did your best to ensure that they would regret their life ruining choices.

The clouds grew agitatedly darker within the midnight sky above you, and to the dismay of your body’s survivalist needs, your shoulders shrunk from the bitter air as Rick extinguished the source of warmth. As you idly sat by, remaining in your shroud of speechless presence, Rick escorted Carl to the immobile vehicle, allowing him to sleep on the backseats for extra protection from the horrors that could possibly creep up on you in the night.

Michonne moved closer to you, placing her hand which rarely not held her executing samurai on your jacket clothed bicep, the moment was tender considering that she was doing her utmost to comfort you. “He’s out there,” she spoke with confidence, believing each word that left her mouth. “He’s a survivor, and he knows what he’s doing out there.”

“We were all survivors.” It was a statement, one that caused you great misery to say. “But in the end nobody survives, we’re all going to die one day, and some of the people out there are worse than the walkers. There’s no saying what has happened to the others… to Daryl…” You shook your head, trailing off into a weight of what one would describe as tranquility.

For you however, it was a reminder that in your future everything would be mute. The outbreak would demolish the remaining population of every single species, tainting them with transformative virus until the new and ‘improved’, infinite flock of homo sapiens lay ruin and feast to anything that breathed. The world now belonged to the dead, they were suitably adapted to the unforgiving nature of the world.

Their past minds had been erased, the concepts of a once modern life vanquished as society was. There was nought memories of waiting in endless queues in supermarkets, or eating a buttered bucket of popcorn in a movie theatre. All that corrupted the simple minds of the corpses was necessity to devour anything that they envisioned as food - your mindsets were now of similar values in that slim respect.

Just thinking of your mouth being bitterly tainted with a murderous wash of irony blood revolted you; it was something that you would never swallow, literally. Ripping into human flesh with your very teeth was a repulsive reminder that one bite, or a death without a deadly pressure to the brain, would turn you into one of those monsters. You had to remain alert, despite your body’s almost hypnotic drowsiness to fall asleep.

At least Rick and Michonne had each other, even if they did not acknowledge the true depth of their reciprocated support. You could tell that through their reunion something had changed within their dynamic, and you missed the deep likeness of companionship that you had shared with Daryl. Often times than not, you and the southern blooded archer would be among the seemingly endless forestation that surrounded the safe homestead of the prison, tracking and hunting critters that could surpass as an edible hors d'oeuvres.

There would be bashful conversations drifting between the two of you, whether that be a suave competition of whom could catch the most lustre of nut harbouring squirrels, or- well, in simpler terms, a concoction of unholy words that would prevail when he was erratically buried inside of your cunt. You’d go at it like rabbits in prosperous heat whilst present in the woods; the prison had no privilege of privacy since the residents of Woodbury had adjoined with the residing numbers.

And that was the thing you missed the absolute most, having your man close, in any which way. That cramped bunk within your sheet concealed cell was something you’d die for currently, you adored being pressed up against Daryl’s chest, listening to his tame heart beat, as you fell tentatively asleep.

Watch was more exhausting than it appeared, with a traipse dignifying each of your steps, you rubbed your heavy eyelids, hoping to excuse the tiredness that was overwhelming your body. In your dominant hand you used your shotgun as a walking cane, forcing yourself to return to your cell that you missed dearly. It was better than falling into a shrouding slumber in the middle of the hall; that almost sounded tempting, considering you wouldn’t have to move any further through the large prison, but you had more reason than a cot to sleep on calling your name.

And you saw it as you achingly slid past the hanging drape of a sheet that allowed some privacy in the individual cell that you always returned to and housed your random array of nicknacks that you had picked up on runs into permanently closed stores. Daryl’s body was strewn across the thin mattress, his hand laid across his face covering his depth-full eyes, as his chest rose and fell in an irregular accordance - he was still conscious, unable to doze off into plentiful rest.

Your lips tugged in an endearing smile that he couldn’t see, and you couldn’t resist from creeping closer. That was all you required, to be close to him. There were only a handful of steps remaining until you got to your desired destination, and without so much of a thought, you persevered. “Hey.” The tone that radiated from you was weak, throughout the daytime, your schedule had been filled with condemning tasks which were necessary to keep the smooth run of the prison a constant. Whilst you were doing your maintenance, there had been a not so big, yet not so small, hoard of walkers appear from over the horizon.

Michonne had joined you with handling their swift executions, but your shoulders ached from the striking violence, and the dragging of water caskets; the council, of which you were a part of, had decided to move them out of the sun so their contents would be of a hydrating temperature.

“Ya okay sunshine?” Daryl rolled around so that he was on his side, and sat up on the edge of the bed with a crouching back so that he could view your approach of him. You came to stand between his legs, enjoying the sensation of his hands running around your hips, their warmth filling you with comfort. To lull into the atmosphere which was turning sensual, your fingers coiled in his hair, running through the locks that had grown over the months.

His nose ran softly up your stomach, as he buried his face into your form, having reciprocated your yearning for his company. With a smooth drag from his strong arms, you fell delightedly into his lap, your faces meeting in a staring match as he brushed the side of your face with his hand. “Love ya, so fuckin’ much, my stunnin’ girl.” He mumbled, leading your lips to his in a slow and meaningful collision. The moment was tender, doused in every word that you were too exhausted to say aloud. You were communicating via your actions, discarding the apparel that concealed your bottom halves, giving you the opportunity to slide your cunt down on his erect cock.

You felt blissfully full, the qualms that had bent you to their will through the day slipping instantaneously away. The cupping of your palms positioned themselves on his exposed shoulders, and you ground your hips together, feeling his tip prod deep within you. Daryl shuffled back, kicking his legs out as he wrapped his arms around your frame, treating you so delicately as he fucked you from below. His lips cascaded along every inch of skin that your tank left bare, expressing his adoration for you with his lips and the little circles he drew along your hips. He could never get enough of being close to you, since the first time the two of you had shared together, he had gained more confidence with his role in the sexual situations you shared.

The breaths that huffed past your lips in attempts of being quiet were addictive to his ears, he was desperate to get an audible sound to fester out of you, but the pleasured expression that was imposed on your face was enough; he knew that he was making you feel amazing, and in these lovemaking events, that was all that mattered to him. He groaned at the thought of being somewhere private, where you could make a sound without disturbing anybody, or risking walkers stumbling upon you.

You were close, Daryl could feel it, your walls clenched uncontrollably around his length, which drove him wild, and cautiously he bucked his hips upwards a little faster, careful not to cause the bed to squeak to badly as there were people sleeping in both cells either side your own. He sat further up, his back straighter so that he could brush his teeth gently along your jaw, driving you wild as your hands drove beneath the sleeveless sides of his shirt, caressing his scarred flesh with tentativeness.

You were snapped out of your daydream in the omnipotent dark as you felt the scuffing of crinkling leaves, and before you could adjust into defensive action, there was a cold metal muzzle pressed into your muzzle, by a man with silver locks and a denim vest suited to his greedy physique. Without a doubt, these were the same men that had traipsed upon the house that you and Rick had been inhabiting whilst Michonne and Carl were strolling the streets.

They were claimers to objects they valued as things that their greed thirsted for, and you shuddered a breath as the man threatening your life steadied his grotesque arm upon your shoulder all the whilst he opened his mouth to converse impolitely. “Maybe we’ll keep this one alive, she’s a looker.” It felt as though he was bragging about the possibility to his hungry followers that you could be his property.

He recognised Rick that was for sure. You’d been a witness to the man that had taken it upon himself to cozy his fat ass on the toilet, and the way in which his throat was denied oxygen to passage through it. You and Rick had been huddled under the bed that dipped from their pocket heavy weights as you had ran to awaken him as you were certain you’d heard something before they bustled into the once home to a stranger that was no doubt long dead. And in your escape, you had put a deadly pressure on the invader’s throat… until he permanently passed out.

To exasperate your distaste for his misogynistic idea, you spat upon the ground, your nostrils flaring as you dared to spin your head back so that his gun was resting upon your forehead. If he was going to shoot, he might as well make it quick, considering you didn’t intend to be alive if they had the intentions of taking sick advantage of your body.

As you prepared to retort an insult that foully would cause further trouble for you and your friends, they momentarily became distracted but still alert as a figure slunk onto the clearing. You had to allow your vision to focus, and when it did, you were shocked in the best possible way. It was Daryl, and he was certainly alive. He seemed to be acquainted with this pack of scavengers, and you realised that the ordeal in which he had went through was the only way in which he could have survived.

He didn’t liken association with low lives that threatened those he cared about, however he hadn’t seen their full nature until now. Daryl felt at a crossroads as he took complete acknowledgment of the weapon that was frozen against your skull; he couldn’t be rash, they were a lousy, impulsive group, and he was lit with elation in every cell of his body to see that you were still breathing.

“Jus’ hold up.” His gentle footsteps were slowly approaching in a careful regard as his voice strained with caution. He couldn’t help but eye Joe up - he had a gun to your damn head! If he pulled that trigger… he wouldn’t allow that bullet to be released. You were far too great a risk to have on the line, he had to settle this, like a man. Rick was squinting up at him, determining the reason for the unsurprising reaction the claimers had given his presence.

“One of these two is the one that killed Lou so we got nothing to talk about.” The rugged, richly certain statement fled from one of the thieving men, as he had his long barrel raised, Rick being the focus on the end of his gun that had most likely been stolen in the crossfires of their apocalyptic journey. Anything was loot to them, even with their rules, they were scoundrels no doubt before the end of the world had began, and they would leave it no different. But Daryl wasn’t willingly going to allow them to either kill or claim you, your worth was insanely precious, and he wouldn’t allow all you had been through to be for nothing.

“The thing about nowadays is we got nothin’ but time.” Joe said from behind you, realising that finally, Daryl had proven himself despite the cautionary warnings and delivered punishments that the archer had bore witness to, but he was just to be a loss to them if he didn’t get behind the way, then he would just be an obstacle in the way. “Say your piece Daryl.” This was his final chance, but he had been given an opportunity. Joe liked to think of himself as an understanding man, there was always a reason as to why a swine didn’t want to roll in the mud; his gaze noticed that your eyes didn’t deter away from the redneck that was new to his ranks. There was an expression that he didn’t recognise upon upon your face, but he was willing to use it for his own purposes if it came to such a crossroads.

“These people…” Daryl cast his eyes momentarily at you again, as though he was pleading for you to remain still and allow him to be the peacemaker. And you subtly nodded, brows drawing together as you concentrated on the group members who had taken up space in your surroundings. “You gon let em go. These are good people.” He was attempting to find some humanity in this man who was leaning like a shadow over you, if there was any. It was the same careful traipse of dialogue that he would use with Merle when he was being inconsiderate before the outbreak, it hardly worked, his brother would laugh and call him a pussy, but Daryl had learned how to use his heart.

It was there to love, and whilst it still felt new, to be loved. These were his people, you were his person, and it was his responsibility to save you. He had tried to protect Beth, and whilst she had gotten out of that mortuary house with her life in tact despite the wave of walkers that had invaded through the front door, she still had to be alive. And so did the others, wherever in the country they were, no one was weak, each of you had your own strengths and that would get you somewhere. It had to.

“Now I-I-I think Lou would disagree with yer on that.” The grey haired man stuttered, and you weren’t sure whether it was due to the lack of respect he felt from Daryl whom he had taken in as one of his own - a stray, or if he felt inferior. You supposed it was the latter, there was a continual pattern with each man that fought for power that you had noticed after your encounters. They feared any soul opposing them, it made them appear frail and insecure, just like the Governor had been with the instances involving Andrea and Michonne. “I’ll of course have to speak for him an’ all because your friends here strangled him in a bathroom.”

Guilt overflowed like a faucet in your throat; you didn’t regret killing ‘Lou’. Rick had been your supporting witness, but there were no longer court trials condemned to determine the punishments for living, instead those that thought they were in control of the passers-by that they encountered - and to them, what fit every crime was death. There was now nought reason for you to brood in your squalor, you could see Daryl’s face, and if that was the last image that you had earned before the end of your life, you were glad. Though you were stubborn to go out fighting, otherwise your entire life after the prison; the tears, the passiveness, and the little amount of blood that had spilt from you would all have been for nothing.

“You want blood, I get it.” Daryl read them, Joe had already killed one of his own men, he wouldn’t hesitate when it came to a found family of strangers. They weren’t good people, they were miscreants that had given him the choice to either join them on their sin induced travelling, or die. And he had been broken, lost and alone, there had been no other choice if he had the intent of surviving in order to drains you. With disregard, he threw his arms in a stance, disarming himself as his crossbow flew out of his hands, falling on the ground, showcasing that he had an offer that Joe would not justify with a refusal “Take it from me man. Come on.”

Your heart swelled, Daryl was putting his own life on the line so that he could save you and your friends. A glaze of emotion was cast over your eyes, as you tried to slow your heartbeat, if you panicked, none of you would get out of this. “This man and woman killed our friend. You say their good people.” It was ironic, if you weren’t so shocked you would have stifled a laugh. These people weren’t friends, there weren’t any tears for their dear Lou, no, they craved any excuse to take and take and take. The revenge they were stubborn with pursuing was only a reason to get their hands bloody, and feel powerful as they got further away from the concept of being a human. “Now that right there i-i-is a lie. It’s a lie!”

Daryl couldn’t bargain through this, they were set in stone when it came to their perception of inflicting both emotional and physical pain. With disappointed defeat, his arms flopped haplessly at his sides, as he continued to stand straight. He had to get through to them! They could budge just a little, he just had to encourage them, make them believe that letting you live was the wrong thing to do. “C’mo-” Before he could continue his pleads to be the centre of violent attention, one of the lowlife claimers wretched their foot into his stomach, causing him to wheeze uncontrollably from the harsh impact.

At the sight alone of him getting hurt, it was on instinct that you prepared to swerve into action. You had to stop this, you had to save him. Your hands scratched against the golden leaves that were all over the ground as you tried to scramble up on your feet, attempting to prevent further bruising or blood withdrawal from Daryl’s body, however a sharp pain flew through your scalp. Joe had grabbed you, maintaining you as his hostage as his fingers weaved aggressively through your hair, forcing you to jut your chin out from the painful discomfort.

“Teach him fellas.” His tone was strong as he beckoned his orders, his deep, soulless eyes twitching from the agitation that had pent up within him. “Teach him all the way.” He ensured that they were aware of what he wanted, and the rest of the claimers were gratified to comply with his protocol of brutality, shoving Daryl up against the frozen vehicle, the clash of his body against it being audible from where you knelt. They threw punch after hateful punch, and Daryl struggled to maintain his stance against them; it was two against one.

“C’mere boy.” The words were growled out through the open car door, as Carl was dragged away from the hiding space. He couldn’t escape, and the claimers were getting the best of your group, and they were in afraid to draw blood. A knife was held firmly against the boy’s throat, and your eyes bulged from the petrifying suspense. Tears slipped from Carl’s blue eyes that had witnessed far too much for his age, and Rick began to panic. Lori had lost her life when she was birthing Judith, who now was also somewhere in the unknown, probably dead. He wouldn’t fail as a father a second time and allow his remaining child to die. “You leave him be!” Rick bellowed, which only made the sick men chuckle at his despair as they held him down from writhing towards an escape to rescue his son.

“Listen it was me! It was just me!” The words shrieked from your lips, as you felt a pool of despair puddle in your eyes. This was all because of you, perhaps if you hadn’t panicked within the moment of entrapment, and you hadn’t forlorn Lou to whichever afterlife lay after the present, then the claimers would have spared you, envisioning you as stragglers that had done no harm. There was a debt to be paid; a score that Joe felt he had to settle, and it was all because of your pathological actions. If anyone had to own up and pay the cost of taking the life of their adjoined associate, it should be you.

They wanted a permanent justice of a life, and you were happy enough to allow them to take it, as long as you were deemed the victim. That said however, if there was a route away from a pledged sentence, you would take it so that your entire family, including you would be spared. You just had to wait for the opportunity to present itself, and then there would be no hesitation on your part. “See now that’s right.” Joe’s words saturated your spine with a discerning flavour of fright, as he pushed the threatening metal harsher against the shell of your brain.

Rick’s eyes drifted in a frantic debauch between his sobbing son, who was thrashing under the weight of the gruesome man who conveyed him as nothing more than an activity; he’d enjoy watching him die; and you, whom was rigid from head to toe. His mind tried its damndest to calculate a way to save you both, you’d become like a sister to him despite the arrogance that you’d greeted him with back at the Atlanta camp, blaming him dreadfully for Merle’s captivity on that rooftop, rather than Merle and his big, loud and agonising mouth that tended to land him in a swarm of trouble. You had always been on Daryl’s side, but now you shared a connection after the fleeting experiences that had doubtlessly backed you against a wall.

“That’s not some damn lie. Look we can settle this, we’re reasonable men.” Joe reasoned with self interest and vengeance, his stone irises scouring languidly down your tense body from above, a little impressed that a woman had managed to withdraw the life of one of his boisterous comrades. His breath heaved down on you, making your skin crawl with distaste. And so he continued, making you all the more seasoned with spite. “First we’re gonna beat Daryl to death. Then your friend next to you. Then the other girl. Then the boy. And then we shoot you and then we’ll be square.” His maniacal laugh retorted in an echo, as his words truly sunk in. There had been enough devastation, and you viewed each of those you cared for with compassion.

Carl was writhing across the golden leaves that appeared gray beneath the silver moon, leaking from his tear ducts with agonising fear. Rick was stern with his demanding pleas that did nothing but resort humour into the audience that had you at gun point. Michonne was wide eyes and prepared for any intrusion that could occur, silently realising that you would be the culprit to begin a ravenous fight. And Daryl, god Daryl was swinging his arm back as much as he was able, losing against the two men that had the delight of using him as a punching bag. You couldn’t wait any longer, no one was on their way to save you, there was no other choice but try again, planning on a physical tactic this time.

“Let them go.” You hissed dangerously thro the your teeth, flickering your eyes around one last time, managing to make eye contact with Michonne, the gun against her braided head remind you that it was now or never. Joe felt hilarity from your demand, and you repeated it in an increased volume, distracting him with the sound of your voice before you threw your head back, whacking the man behind you with a mind numbing force. The bang of a bullet stirred a hazy cast across your field of vision, spiring a high pitched scream of white noise in your ears, but it was worth it. Joe had stumbled aback, the impact having arose a newfound course of adrenaline to fluster through your pumping veins.

With the rush that jolted you into a spiralling spree of sudden action, you span around, standing upon your two feet as you threw a heavy punch to your enemy’s tired face, a concerned look transpiring upon Rick’s face, as Daryl failed with unfortunate consequences to prevail in his hand to hand combat hustle. In return, you had earned a blow to the face, the force of Joe’s fist causing you to be upon the floor once again. “Oh it’s gonna be so much worse now.” To support his promise, his foot met with your ribs, causing a holler and a pained gasp to escape you; there would no doubt be a bruise left if you survived this assault.

Another slap brandished your face with a stinging hue, as you stumbled up, staggering slightly as you did your best to focus on winning this physical battle. “Come on, get up! Come on, let’s see whatcha got.” He was teasing you, drowning you with anger from the mockery he betrothed you with, as a red line ran pleasantly from his nose. “C’mere!” He growled, prompting you for more, and to see his blood spill was a divine gift, even as he breathed disgustedly against you as he grabbed you by the waist, holding you in front of his body. “What the hell you gonna do now slut?”

There was no possibility of escaping his grip with your form alone, he was a sturdy man, albeit an evil one, but he had you in his monstrous clutch. Your brain racked with a free flow of a matching immoral high ground, and thus you thought of the walkers, and how they took life. Your noggin tossed back in a flurry of monstrosity, your teeth gnashing until they pried formlessly upon his throat, the flesh running between each porcelain tooth as you found purchase in the skin, tugging with animosity, until the torn fragment of his body was pulled away, blood spattering in a revolted spray from your mouth.

The claimer gradually fell, pausing his team from their desolate nature of commanding death as their leader met his end, laying in a lifeless pile on the ground. Michonne and Rick pursued their captor’s, sweeping their lives away in a more sophisticated fashion than you had, and Daryl gained the upper hand from your repulsive distraction. As Rick fled from where he had knelt, he sprinted to pursue Carl’s release, as you remained still, shocked with your own tactile second nature. Your face was half covered in blood, like you were a young child whom had gotten into their mother’s makeup bag, but that wasn’t the reality. You shook, astounded with trauma.

Arms coiled around you, as Daryl held your crimson chin in his hand, looking lovingly at you despite the circumstances that had lead to your freedom. “Sunshine.” The term was distinctly ironic, but the cigarette husk that adorned his throat remained full of love. Since the outbreak you had all had to complete extensive steps to remain breathing, and your breath stuttered as you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in your archer’s chest, but he held your head up, as he dragged the red rag from his pocket, swiping across the stain that made the rag even redder. As you looked around yourself, you saw past the massacre and felt relief.

This was home; these people, especially the one right in front of you. His hand stroked roughly against your cheek as a long, heartfelt peck was planted upon your forehead. He had found you, in this sick world that had all of you lost. You smiled at him, resting your forehead against his as you shared a harmonious breath. “I’m just happy your alive Dixie.” You tried to uplift the mood, as did Rick and Michonne, as they fussed with care over Carl. Daryl couldn’t care less for the state that you were displayed in, he pulled you closer, unable to resist your lips. You shared a kiss, it was passionate and filled with circumstantial desperation, your hands pulled at his neck as you tried to get his face closer.

You could only move on from this happening, there was no dwelling. There was no guilt bore in your chest, those that tried ripping you apart deserved a worse fate, and you had only been fair since considering the consequences they had imposed on forcing you to experience. The Governor was the same, and so would the next foolish soul that failed the lengths that you would all go through to protect each other. You felt sick from the vehemence that had concurred from your body, but you had found more pieces of your familial puzzle, and you had every intention of finding the rest.

[bennyboyfics]

hello! hope ur having a great day🫶

i was wondering if you could write something where reader surprises ben at one of his matches and maybe it's a bad day? so like comforting him after or something like that😊

thank uu🤍

p.s ur writing is spectacular🍀🍀

Every breath you take (I’ll be watching you) || Ben Shelton x gf!reader

A/n: Ty for the request!

Wc: 785

Warnings: slight angst if u squint

MASTELRIST

-

The sun hung high over the court, casting sharp shadows as Ben wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He was down in the third set, his serves not landing with their usual fire, his shots just a fraction off. Every point lost only tightened the frustration in his chest.

He could hear the crowd murmuring, feel their shifting energy as the match slipped further from his grasp. He could barely focus on his coach’s voice in the box—his mind too tangled in frustration—until his eyes flicked to a familiar face sitting among them. You. You weren’t supposed to be here.

You had told him you couldn’t make it, that your schedule wouldn’t allow it, and though he’d been disappointed, he understood. But here you were, perched in his player box, wearing one of his hoodies over your outfit, your eyes locked on him with nothing but unwavering support.

His chest squeezed at the sight of you. For a brief second, something inside him softened. But then, reality hit. His opponent was serving for the match. He tried to shake it off, to push past the tension weighing on his shoulders. He was Ben Shelton. He had clawed his way out of worse situations. But today, his game just wasn’t there.

He lost the match point on an unforced error, his forehand sailing past the baseline. Game, set, match. Ben clenched his jaw, forcing himself through the motions—the handshake at the net, a half-hearted nod to the umpire. The crowd offered polite applause, but it didn’t soften the sting of disappointment that settled in his chest like a heavy weight.

Then, as he turned, his gaze found you again. You were already standing, leaning forward against the rail, waiting for him. Ben barely hesitated. His long strides carried him toward you, his frustration still simmering beneath the surface, but right now, you were the only thing grounding him. As he reached the rail, you didn’t wait for him to say anything.

You leaned down, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him in close. “It’s okay,” you whispered against his temple, one hand cradling the back of his head. “I know it sucks, but you’ll get ‘em next time, baby.” Ben let out a heavy breath, his fingers gripping your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck for a moment.

The warmth of you, the steadiness in your voice, cut through the frustration just enough to stop it from swallowing him whole. His hands slid up to your back, holding you tighter, before he pulled back just enough to look at you. Your eyes were soft, filled with nothing but love for him, and it made his chest ache in a different way.

You cupped his face, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “I’m so proud of you, no matter what.” His throat tightened, the words hitting deeper than he expected. Then, before he could even think to respond, you leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t just a peck—it was soft, lingering, a silent reassurance that none of this changed anything.

That you were still right here. The frustration wasn’t gone, not entirely. He was still pissed about the match, about the way he had played. But in this moment, with you holding onto him, pressing your forehead against his, he could breathe a little easier. He let out a quiet sigh, nuzzling against you for just a second before whispering, “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

You smiled. “Surprise.” Despite everything, the corner of his mouth twitched upward. He shook his head, exhaling through his nose. “Best surprise ever.” You kissed him again, quick and firm. “Damn right.” And just like that, the loss didn’t feel quite as heavy anymore.

[planchettewrites]

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)/AFAB!Reader

DESCRIPTION: You find out about Bella Donna Boudreaux, and you are not happy about it.

CONTENT: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Threats of Breakup, Mentions Remy's Past (*Using the Original X-Men Animation Series as Ref.)

A/N: This is not my favorite Remy work I've done, but I think it's still pretty good. This is pretty heavy hurt/comfort, and the ending is a little rushed. TBH I wanted to just write this and get it over with. WIPs can only have such a long shelf life! I may eventually update this later.

848 words | Safe!

"Remy…" You walked cautiously into your and Remy's shared bedroom in his apartment near the school, anger bubbling inside you. In your hand, you held a letter from some woman named Bella Donna Boudreaux. The letter was old, at least five years old. You found it while cleaning out one of Remy's closets, finding it in a box on the top shelf when it came tumbling out of the closet. "What is this?"

Remy, who was reading, immediately shot up. His black and red eyes looked at you with so much shock. He looked like a man who got caught. “Ma chérie,” he started.

"What is this, Remy?" you shot, effectively cutting him off. "Who the fuck is Bella Donna Boudreaux?"

"Chérie, it's not what you think." Remy stood up from the bed and began slowly approaching you. 

You weren't stupid; you could read what the letter said, and that letter painted a rather different story than your current reality. "I think it's exactly what I think, Remy. What the hell does 'I'll forever be your wife' mean, then? Remy, we've been dating for three years, and this letter is five years old. Are you married?" you roared, your anger almost unmanageable. 

Your mind was racing with every possible answer that Remy could've given you, and none of them were positive explanations. Your relationship with Remy was the best you ever had; he was kind, generous, and giving, and overall, he was a spectacular partner who always put your needs first. You loved Remy more than you could fathom; this letter was heartbreaking.

Before he could answer, you began to read some of the letter to him. "Remy, mon amour, I miss you every day. Every day you are gone is like a stab in the heart. I still remember the day I last saw you; you looked handsome as ever, mon cœur." you stopped reading the letter and threw it on the bed. "What the fuck is this?"

"Darlin', that's all old history, Bella Donna is…"

"Your wife, apparently, Remy." you began to tear up. Nothing shattered your heart like reading that letter did. You had read through the entire thing before you confronted your boyfriend, and you knew a love letter when you read one. You started shaking your head, putting your palm up to your forehead. "I can't fucking believe this."

Without even noticing, he got closer, Remy turned you around and gently pulled your hand from your head. His face portrayed an emotion of hurt. As much as you wanted to scream at him, tear him apart, something in you knew that he had some proper explaining to do. "Darlin', listen to me. Please."

You sighed roughly, continuing to shake your head. "Fine. You better have a great explanation for this, Remy. Or I'm done."

He sighs. Remy knew this day would come eventually—whether it be when filing for marriage paperwork or when his past eventually bubbled up to the surface. If he was honest with himself, he completely forgot about that letter; it was shoved in that box with the rest of his past in the Thieves's Guild. Looking at you, his heart was breaking. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt you. 

"Well, darlin', it starts back in New Orleans. The long and the short of it is that Bella Donna Boudreaux was a member of the Assassin's Guild, and I was a member of the Thieves's Guild. We were arranged to be married in an attempt to unite the guilds. Gambit didn't love her, so he walked away from the altar. Bella Donna wrote me that letter as a last-ditch effort to get me back. I don't know how she even found my address, but she sent it. I forgot that I even kept it. I promise I didn't marry her, mon amour. I don't love her. My heart does not belong to another; it only belongs to you." He held you steady in front of him, and he watched how the tears forming in your eyes began to roll down your cheeks. 

Remy pulled you into a tight hug as you cried. "Shh, don't cry, chérie, Gambit's right here."

"Don't ever fucking scare me like that." you cried. Right now, you hated yourself. There was no way you could deny what you read, but you trusted your boyfriend with every word he said. Remy wasn't one to tell you a lie. Ever since you began dating, he has been nothing but honest and upfront with all that he said. "M’sorry, Remy. I'm really sorry."

Gently letting go of you, Remy cupped your cheeks and placed a kiss on your forehead. "No reason to apologize, mon amour. You were scared, and that situation seemed nasty. I understand."

"I was just so worried that you were keeping something from me, especially something that would change our relationship."

"I know, chérie, I know." He cooed, pulling you back into the hug. 

You sighed, letting the anxiety go. “Please forgive me.”

He smiled. “Gambit forgives ya’, chérie. Of course I do.”