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

[melancholyofautvmn]

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

[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.”

[imaginespazzi]

Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9

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.”

[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

[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.

[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.”

[utterlyotterlyx]

When I Danced Under The Stars

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Part Three

Summary - Tamlin's visit leaves your soul in tatters, but there is someone who knows your pain better than anyone.

Warnings - mentions of sexual abuse and neglect, angst, mentions of trauma, fluff

Part One - When I Kissed the Teacher

Part Two - When I Met The Devil

The fear and despair rippled down the path which led to your front door, the pulsating negative energy causing Rhys to roll his shoulders in discomfort.

He imagined your home looking rather spectacular in the daylight, the pale wood and white railings, the small well-kept garden full of blooming tulips, the natural warmth that no doubt usually emitted from the hearth. It was no wonder that Azriel had forgone his own space to spend time in yours.

Rhys had appeared at the end of the cobbled path, wings nowhere to be seen, with tired, worrisome orbs and a heavy heart. It had taken much convincing from Rhys to convince Azriel that he should be the one to talk to you, that if anyone was going to be able to understand your pain it would be him. It felt like eons since he though of Amarantha and what had transpired Under The Mountain, but as he saw you stood there, frozen in fear and overcome with your past traumas, he felt some of his own return to him.

The High Lord had little reason to think of the traumatic events he too endured not that long ago, he had a mate, and a child, and a loving growing family. Amarantha and everything she did was in the past, they had all moved on, he thought he had too but something still lingered deep within his soul, that fear that the past could one day repeat itself. It was a feeling he was doing his best to hide.

Knocking on the door, Rhys sighed when he heard your sniffles, and he pictured you standing on your tiptoes to peer through the peephole at whoever had come to pull you from your turmoil. Then you opened the door, and Rhys wanted nothing more than to bundle you up in his arms and tell you that it was all going to be alright.

Tears stained your red tinged cheeks, your eyes were puffy and swollen, and you were holding yourself, rubbing your arms with your hands whilst standing half behind the door, "Are you here to tell me to leave?"

Rhys could have cried at your broken strangled voice, it was like Lucien had said, Tamlin had the power to strip the light from you, there was no love in your eyes, just pure unfiltered fear. Rhys tilted his head to the side and shook his head, "I'd like you to walk with me," he stepped into your home, and it looked exactly as he had imagined it.

Childish artworks were strewn across the coffee table of your living area, workbooks were marked and stacked to the left of the said artworks, books upon books were stacked on the floor since your bookcases were bursting full of other titles. It was light and airy but oh so comfortable, he could picture you and Azriel cuddled up on the deep rooted love seat talking incoherently about your shared dreams. A faint scent of coffee clung to the air from the not-yet-emptied filter left in the coffee pot in the kitchen, it mixed with the aroma of the burnt firewood from the evening before.

Rhys took a step forward and plucked your cloak from the railing by the stairs, noting the neatly placed belongings on the table there, lined up in a row so that you wouldn't forget anything during the morning rush before school. You stood unmoving by the door, your eyes flickering furiously as he draped the garment over your shoulders and offered you a hand which you stared at for a moment before sliding your hand into his embrace, shuddering in a mixture of fear and and comfort as he placed your hand on the indent of his elbow.

The Sidra bubbled along the rocks, pebbled stone skitted beneath your shared weight. Neither of you said a word, Rhys was content in just having you near, where he knew you were safe, and you were equally as content looking at the night sky full of stars and wonder. A stark difference to the sky of the Spring Court.

"I'm putting you all in danger," you muttered, eyes still fixated to the dancing starlight weaving in the moons embrace, "You should send me away."

Rhys slowed to a stop and turned to face you, examining your features with a look void of any anger, in a way it was unsettling. You were far closer to Feyre than Rhys, it wasn't like you weren't friends, but you'd never spent a moment alone with him, "I'm not sending you anywhere, y/n," he told you softly, with an understanding speckle of kindness in his eye. Your High Lord lowered himself to your level, placing his hands on your upper arms and stroking the clothed skin there, "I'm here because I want you to know that I understand."

Leading you to a small ledge, Rhys perched beside you on the lip of earth, his legs dangling beside your own as the Sidra swam along down the stream, "I know what it's like to be used against your will. I know what it's like to feel tainted and unworthy of anything good. You feel like you don't belong in a way, that everything you went through was deserved and the Mother must see you as evil," he paused and brushed his arm up against your own, to give you some form of caring contact, a break of sunlight in your clouded mind, "I'm sorry that he did that to you, and I'm sorry that you've been living with it all this time. I'm sorry that you felt like you couldn't tell us. I'm sorry, y/n."

Rhys felt the small sobs catch in your throat, you looked up at the sky and blinked hard, furrowing your brow and exhaling softly before looking sideward to him, "Is Feyre angry at me?"

"Cauldron, no," he told you incredulously, shuffling closer to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder, "If anything she's worried about you, we all are. What you went through is something no one should ever have to deal with, let alone someone as gentle and bright as you."

"You know?" It was a whisper and your chest thundered with the possibility that they all knew what Tamlin had done, that Azriel knew what Tamlin had done. Panic sat in your chest, a birthing monster of gruesome darkness that was threatening to swallow you whole, "How?"

"Lucien," your heart fluttered, Lucien was perhaps the only person who looked out for you then, working directly against Tamlin's orders and desires to set your free, wanting nothing in return but your happiness no matter where you wound up. As if sensing the deep rooted bond between you and him, Rhys spoke, "He's here, he only told us what we needed to know. I hope you don't mind," Rhys' fingers drifted over the tips of your unbound hair.

"No, I don't. It saves me from having to explain it," Lucien was in Velaris. You knew of his bond with Elain, but you never thought you'd ever see him again, you never had the chance to thank him before he threw you onto a horses back and sent you soaring into freedom, "He's really here?"

Rhys hummed in agreement and he felt your chest grow lighter, your shoulders seemed more relaxed and your eyes didn't seem as sad anymore, "I just want you to know that I know what you went through, I went through it too, and if you ever need someone to talk to, someone who understands, then I'm here. I'll always be here."

A small smile graced your lips, "How long did it take you to heal?"

"I'm still working on that. Healing from this kind of trauma isn't instant. I still wake up at night sometimes thinking I'm back under that mountain with her arm draped over me," his eyes glazed over and you knew he was lost in a memory, "Then I realise that I'm next to Feyre, that I'm in Velaris and I have a son. That it was all worth something, it was worth it to be here now with everything I ever dreamed of."

Resting your head on his shoulder felt natural in that moment, like two kindred spirits finding their other half of understanding, "I hope I get to feel like that one day."

Rhys rested his head atop your head and sighed, "You will. I know you will. Velaris is your home and you're safe here, y/n. You're surrounded by people who love you. One day you'll have what I have and look back at this moment and think about how incredibly wise I am."

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes at Rhys, groaning softly as he moved to stand before you, hand outstretched and a wide grin on his lips, "Dance with your High Lord under the stars?"

Smiling, you slid your hand into his, "How could I say no to that?"

It was a tender moment, Rhys placed an arm around your back, his palm flat against the centre curve of your spine, and you leaned into him, head on his chest in the most platonic sense possible as he swayed with you, taking a moment to twirl you under his arm and relish in the joyful giggle that spurted from your lips, "Thank you, Rhys."

"There's no need to thank me, y/n. You mean a lot to us, I think Nyx likes you more than me at this point. Like it or not, you're a part of my family. You make Azriel the happiest I've ever seen him, you've been an amazing friend to all of us. The least I can do is make sure you feel supported and understood."

The pair of you continued to sway, "Azriel is happy?"

Rhys chuckled, "I swear I've never seen him smile so bright or blush so deeply than whenever he returns home from being with you," Rhys pulled away from you slightly, still holding your hand in his, "Azriel would wait an eternity in the depths of hell if it meant he would have the chance to hold you in his arms for a singular moment."

The gaze of your High Lord flickered behind you and his eyes softened as he pulled away from you, "Welcome to the family, y/n. We're all bruised and broken in our own way, you'll fit right in."

That familiar warmth swarmed you, cool kisses snaked up your calves, curling around the small cuts inflicted on you from the broken glass that you hadn't had a moment to clean, "Thank you," your words were sincere and full of blinding relief, Rhys simply bowed his head to you and disappeared into the night.

It was like he knew you needed a moment, just a moment to ground yourself and exhale shakily before your turned into his awaiting arms and flung yourself into his embrace.

Azriel wound his fingers around the back of your neck and inhaled your scent, blinking hard and burrowing his nose into the nape of your neck, "I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I'm so sorry, Az."

"Shhh, don't do that," he told you, his lips pressed against the curve of your neck and shoulder, "Don't apologise for what others did to you. Don't ever apologise for what he did."

"I feel so tainted, and dirty," you sniffled, his shadows caressed your cheeks and he secured his arms tightly around your waist, "I don't deserve you. I'm too ruined, Azriel. Now that he knows that I'm here, I'm not safe. We're not safe."

It didn't escape Azriel's notice that you couldn't even say Tamlin's name, it was like if you did say it then you'd perish into ash. Azriel took your face in his hands, his touch so soft and pure compared to the grip Tamlin had on you only hours before, "I will protect you until my dying breath, and even then I will raise from my grave and return to you. Nothing will ever keep me from you. You are my empire, y/n. You are the one I will burn for, you are the one I will douse myself in blood for, you are the one that makes every single bad day worth the chance of one blissful moment. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise, okay?"

"Please don't leave me," your face contorted and tears spilled from those eyes that he could spend the rest of his days gazing into, "You make me feel alive, like there was a reason I survived. It was to find you."

Azriel's heart sang at your words and he could have crumpled to his knees before you if you weren't the one holding him up.

The stars shone overhead, glittering the sky with endless possibility and Azriel couldn't stop himself from closing the gap between you, capturing your lips on his in the most ethereal embrace, so soul shaping that he didn't think such a feeling was possible. Your tears wet his cheeks and your fingers raked through his hair in desperation, in desperation to feel loved and something other than the heartbreak of your trauma. To feel worthy of something good.

Pulling apart, you were both breathless, and Azriel could see the exhaustion in your eyes. It had been a long day for you, from worrying all day about Nyx and your family, to seeing Tamlin again and feeling the tidal wave slaughter over your soul, to feeling like you had to leave. Azriel pressed his lips to your hairline and held you close, "Let's get you to bed."

You gripped onto him as he went to pull away, "Will you stay? Tonight. Would you?"

"I'd do anything for you," his words pierced your heart, you entwined your fingers in his and allowed him close enough to lift you into his arms, unfurling his wings, "And tomorrow, maybe I can take you to see Lucien? Or we could stay in a read?"

Humming drowsily, you responded, "Lucien, please."

The stars were so close as Azriel soared through the skies of Velaris, cradling you into his chest. You felt nothing but serene slumber pull you into its embrace as the stars sang their sweet lullaby, singing their love to you as your eyes fluttered closed and you became shrouded in their safe, loving arms.

You are safe. You are loved. You are strong. You are worthy.

Authors Note

Ahhhhh!!!! I hope this was worth the wait x

Part 4??

Taglist

@fxckmiup @sh4nn @acourtofbatboydreams @lilah-asteria @iloveboba777 @lisanna2000 @brieflyclassymortal @thecraziestcrayon

[gentaro-kinniecom]

In another life, perhaps

Characters: Love and deepspace boys x gn!reader

C/w: Angst, events in which the boys remember a specific memory with you before returning to the reality. Reader calls Rafayel “Raf” for short and he calls them his beloved. First person pov !

A/n: I’ve never almost written angst before so 😭 I’m in the making of a few love and deepspace fanfics so..we’ll see <3

Xavier

It was the first time I’d see him cry. Xavier’s tears ran down his cheeks while looking up at the stratosphere. The stars seemed to shine bright for him, as Xavier turned towards me, he held my hand close to his chest where his heartbeat was. Almost as if he didn’t want to let go, I then looked up at the same starry sky that he was staring at a few moments ago. A shooting star appeared suddenly, my eyes never leaving it as I spoke.

“Did you make a wish?” I inquired, wiping his tears away while watching as he drew me closer.

“Yes, of course I did”

“What did you wish for?” His eyes were glossy as Xavier responded, brushing stray hairs away from my face.

“I wished..to have you by my side, always.” I chuckled, hitting his chest slightly as Xavier watched with an amused face.

“You’re so silly! Of course I’m going to be here forever, do you ever doubt it?” More tears streamed down his face, sitting close to the gravestone while placing some white lilies, whispering his final goodbyes

“Promises don’t last forever after all..but I’ll be waiting somewhere, if the stars allow us to meet again”

Rafayel

“Why are you crying Raf?” I asked, brushing some tears away from his face. Rafayel was pouting slightly as he kept me close, waves crashing against the shore, the only sound surrounding us.

“Who said I was crying?” He spoke, voice cracking as evidence of what he felt at the moment. My hands took hold of his shoulders, leaning against his chest while Rafayel looked at the many seashells that washed up from the current waves. I then grab his chin, pulling him down to see his eyes a bit red from all the crying.

“Your eyes say otherwise, Rafayel. Tell me, what troubles you?” Rafayel then pressed up a conch shell against my ear, allowing me to hear the sounds of the ocean while falling asleep on his shoulder. Waking up minutes later to see that I was still in his arms, a vice grip around my waist supported my body up, almost as if he was afraid of losing me.

“I don’t want to ever forget you, please, stay” My gaze falls upon the necklace around my neck, taking it off and wrapping it around Rafayel’s while smiling

“I’m not going anywhere Raf, I’m sure of that. '' The water felt cold around Rafayel’s body as he submerged himself in the depths of the ocean, trying to keep the memory of them alive, holding the necklace around him softly while staring into the vast sea.

“If only I hadn’t let you go, my beloved”

Zayne

Watching the northern lights while Zayne cried was such a rare sight to see. The always stoic doctor had been reduced to nothing but shambles at my presence, I smiled, hoping it would comfort him as Zayne’s body stood beside my own despite the cold.

“Zayne..?” His eyes looked into mine, trying to get a sense of his current reality while I felt my fingertips go cold due to the freezing temperatures.

“Don’t worry about me..but you’re freezing, allow me.” Without even asking for anything, Zayne’s hands intertwined with mine. A small smile made my worries cease a bit while he kissed my now warm hands so tenderly, what did I even do to deserve this type of treatment from him?

“Are you sure? The northern lights are a sight to behold but..” I trailed off, sitting down on one of the chairs Zayne was kind enough to bring for tonight. My hands never seemed to leave his grasp, almost as if he’d never want to let go.

“If you could ask the universe for anything, what would it be?” My sudden question made Zayne’s face light up slightly, looking at me before gazing at the sky and its beautiful spectacular. He took a deep breath before answering.

“I’d ask the universe..for more time; the one thing I didn’t have to save you and now..I’ve lost you once again.” Zayne glanced now at the empty seat beside him that contained the scarf he gifted her, holding back tears while gazing at the nightly sky.

[starrclown]

I've see ALOT of LMK angst and I have nothing better to do (cause it's late at night) and I'm not working on my LMK apocalypse au right now sooo-

LMK ANGST HEADCANNONS

Triggerwarning for Violence, Blood, Suicidal thoughts, and other general upsetting topics.

(Feel free to leave yours below. Let's make these characters sad together!)

:D

Pigsy gets upset when people joke about Wukong being Mk's dad. It's insulting to him, the one that raises Mk since he was so little.

Wukong is someone that craves physically touch but also can't stand it. It stems from all the violence he's been apart of + the crown messed him up alot. He was SUPER uncomfortable with Mk touching him in the beginning. It has to be on his terms if you wanna touch him.

Macaque doesn't have a heart beat anymore.

Because of Macaque never coming back when Wukong needed him, Wukong had no trust that Macaque will come back if they have a argument. He assumes that Macaque is just gone and gets upset about it. Eventually Macaque comes back and realizes Wukong's upset but he doesn't bring it up cause he doesn't know how.

Redson doesn't really understand why his father doesn't seem to like him. He assumed that his dad would be overjoyed to see him again, not how he's acting now.

Mei had many breakdowns because of her grades and the pressure to be a spectacular student.

Pigsy got bullied alot in school for being a pig demon. It wasn't everyone, most people liked him, just a specific group of kids.

To add on to #7, Tang used to beat himself up over not being able to help Pigsy. He HATED seeing Pigsy getting bullied but he knew that if he tried to start a fight he would either get beat because he can't fight or get himself kicked out of school.

Mk gets nightmares of Wukong getting forced into the scroll. Sometimes he wonders what would of happened if Wukong never got out. He usually ends up crying.

The closest thing Sandy ever got to being violent is when one of his cats scared him and he accidently dropped Mo. He cried. Alot. (Mo was fine but he just hates his cats being hurt.)

Sandy still doesn't know Hunstman is dead. He just thinks that Huntsman was scared of him so he never came back. (Guess Hunstmans my favorite and he's dead and i hate it here god dammit.)

No one can say anything about Azure or Azure's death around Wukong because he will get upset. Macaque made a joke one time and Wukong lost his shit. He's still kinda shooken up about it.

Some of the baby monkies recognize Macaque as the one disguised as Wukong that ate the monkey and passed it around. Those monkies REFUSE to be around him. They get violent if they have to be around him.

Nezha wants to see Wukong, Redson, and the others more but his job is so demanding he barely gets to leave.

Wukong physically couldn't be around Tang for long periods of time when they first met. He got more comfortable with him over time but Tang reminded him to much of Tripitaka and he couldn't handle it.

Mei doesn't yell out of anger, like serious anger alot. When she finally yelled at Wukong because of the fire, all Wukong saw was Ao Lie screaming at him. (Stole that headcannon from a friend of mine. Thanks Ainnur you ruined my life.)

Mk brought up the fact that Wukong was willing to put the fire into himself and sacrifice himself, almost certainly killing himself in the process one time. Wukong kinda laughed and just said "Yeah, had to save the world bud. It's a shame Macaque messed up my plan, the world woulda been a little bit more peaceful if me AND Lady Bone Demon died." He wasn't even trying to admit suicidal feelings, he was just being honest. This scared the SHIT out of Mk because Wukong just admitted that he can and will kill himself if he feel he needs too.

Sandy often feels left out of the group and not as important but he doesn't wanna ruin everyone's fun so he stays quiet.

Bai he was ready to die when she was found by the Monkie Gang. She wasn't scared of death anymore.

Bai he was scared of Wukong when they first met face to face. Wukong apologized and explained himself. Over time she got a little more comfortable with him. She understands why he's apologizing but at that point she was so ready to die she didn't care who did it.

Redson wants to be around Sun Wukong again but he doesn't know how to start the relationship again. Same on Wukongs part but he's a bit more forward.

Macaque gets physical in fights fast. Partly cause his fights with Peng, Partly cause of his life before Wukong, Partly cause of Lady Bone Demon. If Macaque thinks a situation will get rough, he'll try to fight but if he thinks he'll lose he'll dip.

Princess Iron Fan unintentionally critiques Redsons's looks all the time. It messes with him alot so he's quite insecure.

Mei feels the need to always be upbeat and cheerful so Mk doesn't sink to far into depression. She can tell when he does this for her but she doesn't bring it up.

Pigsy's worst fear is that Mk won't come back home. The nightmares he's had of this is brutal.

I could make more but I'm sleeeeepppy. I'll make a part two one day though. Leave your own headcannons cause seeing other people break down these characters is so fun.

(How some people think Mk will be in season 5)

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

[d3adlyromb3ar]

‧₊˚‧₊˚ if walls could talk pt 2

— pairing. neighbor!choso x fem!reader

— synopsis. choso is waiting for you to come over as you always did at the end of the day, when he suddenly hears commotion coming from your apartment. choso doesn’t hesitate and runs over, his mind only on the thought that he hopes you’re okay.

— word count. 1.8k

— contents. angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, language, smoking, mentions of injuries to reader, mentions of assault/abuse, mentions of manipulation, choking (not the sexy kind srry), tension 🤤, choso being so incredibly sweet it should be illegal like omg ily

— notes. IM SO HAPPY YOU ALL LIKED THE FIRST PART☺️ as requested by many, here’s part two 💕credit to @\\yume041924 (left artwork) and @\\oss²¹ (right artwork) both on twitter i believe. thank you to @saradika for the dividers 🤍

part one here

You don’t know how long it had been since that very first meeting in the hallway with Choso, but since then— you two had been inseparable.

It started with him making his way out, joining you as you were locked out of your place yet again— it was getting pretty ridiculous this whole thing with your ex— but you found it bringing you one good thing from it. Choso.

Slowly, you had gone from midnight hallway talks, to knocking on his door randomly— wanting to see him. Choso hadn’t minded it one bit, if anything he felt touched that you weren’t just talking to him when things were rough— you wanted to see him regardless.

Your ex seemed to be visiting less and less as time passed, and you had hoped that he was finally coming to his senses— but that wasn’t exactly the case.

Unbeknownst to you, your ex was just as observant as Choso.

It had almost been a full week without your ex’s surprise visits. Key word— almost.

You finished cleaning your last dish, placing it on the drying rack as you dried off your own hands. Wiping some sweat off your brow with your forearm, you made your way to your bedroom— getting ready for a much needed shower.

Meanwhile in the apartment across from yours, Choso was waiting patiently for you to come visit. He had made it a daily habit of waiting for you to knock on his door. He had told you time and time again that you didn’t need to knock, and instead just come in as you were always welcome. You being as respectful as ever, you knocked every time.

Choso snuck a glance from his spot on the couch, to the flowers he had bought, sitting on the kitchen counter.

Maybe that was a bit much? He thought, biting his lip from nervousness.

You had come over many times, baked goods in hand for him. He felt flattered every time, so undeserving of your treats— which by the way were spectacular. Choso had never tasted something so good.

He found himself on a later day walking around some flower shops, taking in all different assortments. All while his mind was on you. He didn’t know where the urge came from to suddenly give you flowers, and he wondered if that was just too cheesy. None the less, he found himself buying some for you eventually. He couldn’t wait to give them to you— despite his anxieties about it.

A loud crash from your apartment broke him from his thoughts, on alert and headed straight to your door.

His hand hovered over your doorknob, his head leaning in to listen inside. He heard yet another argument, this time he heard your voice. Pained and frustrated, but you sounded angry.

Good. You had every right to be. He thought.

“Get the fuck out of here!” You screamed. “Now!”

Choso heard nothing but silence, that was until he heard the dreaded sound of a smack, and the sound of something colliding to the floor.

Without thinking whether it was you or him that was on the receiving end of it, he pushed himself through the door. His body tense and on alert as he glanced throughout the room.

The view of you fallen back on the floor, and the sight of your ex with his hand raised— it had Choso seeing red. He wasted no time and walked into him, pushing him up against the nearest wall. Choso’s hand held his throat, his eyes glaring daggers into this man— he might as well be looking into the eyes of the devil himself.

The man struggled, but Choso’s strength was godly.

“You ever lay your hands on her again, I’ll break your jaw.” Choso threatened, his eyes practically glowing red, “Got that?”

The man gagged and pushed on his arms, desperate for air as Choso kept a tight grip on his neck.

“Fin— yea— whatevr’—” The man struggled to spit out.

Choso released his neck, only to grab his jaw— his fingers pressing a death grip into his skin. He forced the man to look in his eyes.

“You got that?” Choso asked again.

The man shivered under his gaze, fear filling his body at Choso’s intimating aura. He nodded out of fear, and his expression satisfied Choso— for now.

“Now get outta here, and don’t fucking come back.”

Choso threw the guy off of him, watching as the man choked and coughed— gaining back the air he lost, and stumbled out of the apartment. Every so often glancing back to make sure Choso wasn’t following him. How pathetic.

You sat on the ground, eyes wide as you watched the whole thing— a sense of gratitude in your chest. Appreciative that your angel came to your rescue— that’s exactly what he was. Your angel.

You watched as his expression switched in a mere second. The hard, scrutinizing glare morphing into a soft, comforting one. The look specifically for you.

“Hey (Y/n)… you alright?” He squatted down to your form, his hand cupping your jaw gently and tilting it to the side. “Let me see.”

His eyes hardened again, the irritated and red skin on your cheek, finger outlines of where that bastard had hit you. The sight was enough to fuel the fire back up, and Choso wanted to chase the guy down.

He rained clam though, knowing he needed to be here with you.

“I’m so sorry honey,” He spoke gently, “Stay here.”

He got up hurriedly, and started to wet a washcloth with cold water. Meanwhile, you couldn’t focus on anything but the fluttering feeling in your belly— his term of endearment not going unnoticed. Honey.

You felt your cheeks flush, a small smile taking over your lips.

Choso returned, tilting your face again, gently laying the cold washcloth over your cheek. His eyes were hardened, studying your face and focusing on making sure your cheek was okay. It was the type of concerned expression, one that you could tell was anxiety filled.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of his, your own dancing all over his face— admiring his beauty in your apartments low lighting. He truly looked angelic.

“You okay (Y/n)?”

He noticed you had grown uncharacteristically quiet, he assumed you were just shaken up.

You snapped your eyes to the ground in between the two of you, breaking yourself from your moment of staring. You swallowed and thought for a moment.

“I’m okay.” You whispered.

His eyes met yours finally, waiting for yours to meet with his again. Your heart beat a little faster, his gaze so deep— so longing it made you nervous.

A giddy nervous.

“You sure?”

You smiled his way, your eyes sneaking a glance to his parted lips before meeting his gaze again.

“I’m okay now that you’re here.”

His eyes shifted from eye to eye, the genuine look you were giving him intimidating— but he didn’t back down from it.

“Good, I’m glad.” He breathed out.

The two of you just gazed at each other in silence, so many words unspoken. The tension was thick, the way both of your eyes kept dancing to each others lips.

There was no denying that you felt something for Choso. The way he fought for you, protected you, was there for you in moments no one else would bat an eye at. He was a consistent in your life— something you lacked your whole life up until now.

He also was so unbelievably attractive, his aura so dark and mysterious, but underneath it all— he was the softest and most caring soul you’d ever encounter. You felt so undeserving of someone as pure as him— but you greedily wanted him.

The washcloth was slipping from his fingers, the plopping sound of it hitting the floor unnoticed by both of them.

He wanted you, he knows he does. Not only in the way most would think. He wanted to be around you, know every little detail about you, wanted to experience things with you. His life had been so lively, so enjoyable the more he hung around you. You were this light he so craved, and he just adored you to the core.

“(Y/n)…” He breathed out, his eyes locking on your lips as your tongue poked out to wet them, “Can I kiss you?”

Your hands cupped his face then, his little shutter not going unnoticed. Your thumb slid down towards his mouth, your thumb running against his bottom lip— his breath warming the pad of your finger.

His eyes locked with yours again.

“Please.”

As much as he craved you, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours, his hand cradling the back of your head— tilting it slightly to get a better angle.

His lips were soft and warm as they molded against yours. The way it felt like your lips were dancing together. He captured your bottom lip, pressing down with gentle pressure, making you gasp— giving him access to slide his tongue on your bottom lip.

It was intimate in the sense that your breaths were mixing together, your pants in sync with his.

Your hand trailed up the side of his face, soft caresses until you reached his hair— your fingers carding through his thick mane.

He growled at the sensation, your fingernails scraping his scalp heavenly.

He pulled away, in need to catch his breath— as did you. You both panted, staring at each other with hooded eyes— admiring each other. Gazes locked on each others swollen lips and blown out pupils.

“Ya’ alright?” He whispered out, voice unable to speak at a normal volume.

You nodded.

“Yeah.” God, you were great— fucking amazing. The only issue was that you needed another taste.

He smiled at your flushed cheeks, your drunken expression as you stared at him with such intensity. It had his heart pounding, his thumbs moving on their own and smoothing over your cheek.

“Can we do that again?” You breathed.

He chuckled and ran his thumb down over the swell of your bottom lip, forcing your lip into a frown.

“We have a lot of time for that.” He noted, and you blushed at the realization of your neediness. “Let’s head over to my place, okay?”

You were pretty tired from tonight, and knowing you were going to be with him until you fell asleep— you felt at ease.

You nodded sheepishly, wishing your blush would calm.

“C’mere.” He muttered before sliding his arms under your knees and under your back— scooping you effortlessly into his arms.

How perfect it felt to be in his embrace. It felt like nothing could ever harm you here, and you wanted to fall asleep right there.

He made his way through your apartment, to his. You leaned your head against him, tucking your head just below his chin— inhaling his scent as you did so.

Choso smiled down at you, watching your eyes flutter shut. His arms instinctively tightened at the sight, his protective nature taking over. He’d walk through fire for you, do about anything to keep you safe.

If there had ever been a more perfect moment than you in his arms, cuddling into him— he didn’t recall it. This was it for him, this was perfect. You were perfect.

— ending notes. ahhhhhhh the fluff in this one 🥹🥰

[daryldixonfanfiction]

What you fight for! pt.10 - Good girl(*18+)

Masterlist

summary: Daryl desperately tries to amend after they're heated argument…

Warnings: *18+, SMUT!, intimate sex - this man is in love, unprotected p in v, fingering, use of ‘good girl’, praise!cink, age gap, overprotective!Daryl, anger issues, heated argument, manhandling if y squint, angst, mutual pining, fluff, walkers, brief mention of signs of grief, trauma/dissociation.

wc.6k

According to the diary they had been traveling on foot for two weeks now. Two weeks since leaving pittsburgh. And two weeks since Sam and Henry were buried. It was all she could think about - and her failed promise sat heavy on her heart.

Julia had not told Daryl what she had done that night, when Sam told her he was bit. A part of her new she should have, but she didn't. Instead she comforted him, showing him her scar and the bitmarke there, rubbing some of her blood into his wound in hope her blood could act as a sort of medicine. She knew Daryl would be upset with her actions and it felt it would make no difference if she did tell, so she had kept it to herself.

She didn't feel like talking much, nor did she have much of an appetite sins a week ago when fatigue had begun to creep in. And when she began having heavy cramps she knew she was coming on soon. She had dreaded it, the pain, that jabbing pain that made her want to vomit, but she was prepared with the tampons she had found so she knew she would be fine. Though Advill would be nice.

They were somewhere in northern Ohio.

Each day was colder than the one before and even though the autumn colors painted the levels in spectacular shades of red, orange and yellow she couldn't shake the way she was feeling. She didn't think she was depressed or anything like that, though she had been mourning the loss of Sam, feeling terribly devastated by what had happened that morning, or maybe she was just traumatized about it all? She didn't know. She just hoped she would eventually move past it.

But how did someone move past something so horrid? Something that bleeds into one's dreams, with their blooded faces and Sam's dead body begging her to save him?

She felt guilt, just pure guilt about it all and it felt more important than ever to bring a cure into this unforgiving world.

It had begun getting darker much earlier and it being the beginning of October, mid autumn had begun. Daryl was all about finding a safe place to rest for the night, walking slightly ahead of her though she could always feel his watchful eye, not letting her out of his sight, not even letting her walk too many steps behind or he would snap at her, ordering for her to stay close.

After that morning Julia had noticed Daryl becoming even more protective of her. A clear change in his demeanor. He's always been the one to call the shots, it was his call, he was the leader, the one who had the most experience in this world, easely outweighing hers. Julia didn't mind, in fact she thought it was better that way. Because she trusted him in his decisions and like she had said that night, she did truly trust him ‘with her life’.

But the way she was feeling now only made her feel annoyed by his protectiveness. A Lot of the times she thought it was out right obsessive. It made her feel like a child that could not think for oneself, and she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions on her own accord. But Daryl had decided everything for her and if she didn't follow along she knew she would get scolded, so she did as she was told and kept it to herself, silently brewing underneath.

Entering a small abandoned town Julia longed for her aching feet to get some rest as they had been traveling since dawn. Julia looked down to the ground as they walked and Daryl let out a sigh, before shaking his head. It got Julias attention,

“What?” she questiond.

“You gotta stop doing that,” Daryl said.

And there it was again.

Julia looked a head, acting as if she didn't know what he was talking about, because she didn't have the energy for it, feeling drained, then she looked at him, and she questions,

“Doing what?”

Daryl gives her a look, “Disepering.”

And Julia knew what he meant by that. He was right, she wasn't paying attention. But she couldn't control it, it just happened, like it did when they had been ambushed and her body disappeared to somewhere she didn't know. She had thought of bringing it up, but chused against it. Bause how could she make him understand something she couldn't herself? And if she did say something it would sound like a lame excuse and she never wanted to burden him with her problems.

Making their way through the desolated town, they eventually spot a good place to hunker down. Daryl leads the way around the small food store and just when they turn the corner they run into a group of walkers, Daryl grabbed onto her, ushering them into the opposite direction, but they were cornered by more, leaving no other choice then fighting their way true. The dead were closing in fast, and Daryl's grip on her grew stronger. She could sense his inner panic and it was unlike her to feel so unafraid, not stiffening up but instead feeling confident she could handle herself.

They doge and stab walkers that get too close and it was working, they were making their way true. Moving to the back door that would be their escape Daryl rushes up to it, successfully forcing it open, Julia reaches the dore where Daryl stood holding it open for her, but then she looked behind herself and she knew the walkers would eventually make their way inside. Spotting the fence she steps back, and Daryl loses his grasp on her,

“I’m gonna draw them away!” Julia announced.

Daryl tries to stop her, but she is already on her way and begins to draw the walkers towards the other side of the fence away from the building.

Julia runs up to the opening and the walkers follow her true the gate. Waiting for the last one to pass true she realized it wasn't such a good plan as she had thought. She had moved the walkers and the next step to get herself out of there after trapping them she hadn't properly thought all the way true, unintentionally traping herself. Running back to the gate a walker gets a hold of a shug of hair, pulling her back towards its hungry teeth and its friends. That’s when the panic finely cashed up. Julia screams from the harsh pain, terrified doing anything to get out of its hold.

It happened so fast, the pain was gone by a swish of a bolt and she was pulled out of there within a second. Daryl came to her rescue and did what she couldn't, successfully closing the gate, walkers now trapped behind it, pushing and growling against the fens.

Julia rubbed the back of her haid where the walker had pulled, feeling a bruise forming there.

Daryl having secured the gate with a chain he made his way towards her, moving with purposeful strides towards where she stood making Julia's heart rate pick up, knowing sins meeting him he could have a very fiery temper. Her hand paused as he continued towards her and Julia was quick to amend,

“That was close, huh?”

It was an attempt to soften him. To soften the rage that threatened behind his eyes. It didn't seem to work though, as he reached out and took her upper arm, pulling her towards himself and snapped,

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?! Huh!”

And Julia couldn't find the words, she just stares up at him wide eyed.

“Girl, answer me God dammit!” he demanded.

Julia jumped, the anger in his voice surprised her. His expression screamed so many different things she felt she could hardly breathe. Julia blinked, several times more. He stared her down with narrowed eyes, waiting for her to say something and she felt so small under his gaze.

“No, I was ju-, ju-” she stutters, finding it hard to look him in the eye. “I just didn't see that one coming from behind, it’s not a big deal, nothing happened…”

The moment she said it Julia knew it sounded stupid, that she had been naive. It made something within Daryl snap, the subtle twitch his eyebrow told her so. Julia wasn't sure if it was anger towards her, or worry, or what. Then his face turned unreadable,

"What?” It came out low...daring. As if he couldn't believe it had come out of her mouth.

Julia blinked, feeling startled at the reaction. She began to step backwards, and tried to retract,

“Nothing..”

Daryl didn't seem like he didn't want to play any games, following with every step she took.

"No, what the hell did you just say?" he demanded coldly.

Julia swallowed hard, feeling winded all of a sudden, "It wasn't a big deal. Nothing happened.”

Julia continued to step backwards until her back was against the chops facade.

"Yeah, because I made it to ya in time,” Daryl said, caging her in. His voice was empty of emotion, but it held something sharp behind it, something warning, "If I wasn't, you’d be ripped to shreds right now.”

“But I wasn't,” Julia insisted.

Daryl starred. He just stared. And she wished he would just calm down. He was angry but It wasn't rage - it was something else. Maybe he was scared? But it didn't make the way he was treating her any more okay.

Daryl stepped even closer, “The fuck is wrong with you? Being immune doesn't make you immortal, or did you forget that?”

She shook her head, then croaked weakly, "Stop talking down to me."

"Then stop doing stupid shit that can get you killed," Daryl countered easily.

Julia looked up at him, feeling her eyes begin to burn, "You always make it sound like you're the only one capable of doing anything. I can handle myself.”

"Will you just stop it.” Daryl demanded.

Julia frowned, “No, you stop it! Just because you feel like you have to do everything yourself for it to be done correctly, doesn't mean you can treat me however you want!”

Then Julia stepped forward and this time It was Daryl that took a step back, and she said with tears falling from her eyes,

“Don’t you get it?! You can’t get bit, but I can!”

Daryl stood there completely baffled, just staring at her and she could not read the look he was giving her. Did he even understand what she meant by that? Meaby not. But the anger had dissipated from both sides, melting away with the rain. And as they went inside it felt like she had no words left to say after that.

She had always found arguing terebully draining and all she wanted was to get to bed.

Julia was giving him the silent treatment, and he simply could not stand it.

He desperately wanted to amend. And he didn't like the idea of going to bed without resolving it. What if she never talks to him again, if she couldn't forgive him?

Daryl watched Julia get ready for bed.

The dim lantern being the only source of light inside the small store. The sound of raindrops hitting the glass smothers him, and he didn't think he would be able to sleep without hearing her voice. He watched her roll out her sleeping bag, beginning to adjust herself in it - getting ready to sleep…

Daryl sat on top of his sleeping bag, too restless to lay down in it and instead opted to lean back into the wall, staring where she laid with her back facing him. Her soft form moved with every breath, and he knew she was still awake,

“Julia,” he spoke softly and he could see the small movement made in response, “Can’t we talk about this…please?”

He didn't care if he sounded pathetic. If he wanted to make it right he had to put his ego aside, so that's what he did even though he didn't know how to go about something like this.

"Please."

There was no response, and when he thought she had gone to sleep, or simply opted to ignore him further Julia turned around. And even though her eyes still had that sad look, puffy from crying, he felt a sense of hope. Because at least she was looking at him, offering her attention he didn't deserve. Daryl swallowed nervously…then..

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

Daryl hoped it came across as sincere as he men’t it, because he truly was sorry, feeling ashamed of how poorly he had been treating her. Julia blinked from where she laid, listening from her sleeping bag. He swallowed again, then continued, with that soft tone that only existed for her,

“I was a real asshole for treating you like that…Can you…'' He had to evert his eyes, feeling guilty for asking for something he didn't think he deserved. But he didn't anyway. His gaze lifted and he asked,

“Can you forgive me?”

Julia's eyes welled up, brows pulled downwards and her lip began to quiver before she broke down crying. He stiffened, not expecting this as her response. He didn't know what else to do so he moved where she laid and pulled her into his chest, sushing apologies until she calmed and her breathing evend out.

“Fuck, I’m sory, I’m so sory,” Daryl reppets, wiping her tears away until they stoped falling. All he could do was holding her there on the floor in his arms, and he didn't know how long he did.

Then - softly, her voice came to life against his shoulder were her head rested and tears had stain his jacket,

“I forgive you, Daryl.”

Julia was staring directly into his eyes. She looked so small in his arms, her brown eyes looked almost like stars, glimmering up at him with all her kindness - and never before had he felt relief wash over him so intensely.

Daryl bowed his head, he felt like crying himself, but then he felt her hand on his cheek gently brushing a tear away, soothing him even though he had been the one that had made her shed tears due to his cruelty.

He searched her face. He searched for something to hold onto. And then it was like the wind had shifted to something else entirely and he could see it in her eyes that she felt it too. A part of him knew what she must be thinking, because he felt his heart begin to beat against hers, or he assumed it was a shared thought.

It was much like that night…Her hand on his face and all he wanted to do was kiss her.

That night had been...a night in which Daryl had given into every small desire he had ever felt towards her since the prison. Desires he had barely known existed up until that moment when he couldn't stop himself and he was sinking between her legs.

He glanced down to her lips, inviting and full. He swallowed hard, entranced and nervous. His hand that had cradled her head in the embrace moved by its on, his thumb beginning to trace her bottom lip. He washed how she closed her pretty eyes, how she leaned into his touch. Julia let out the most beautiful sigh he had ever heard, and he hoped his mind wasn't making him hear things that wasen’t there.

He thought to remove it, to move back where he had been sitting and go back to bed. But his thumb remained right where it was, and he watched Julia’s eyes flicker open, looking true her eyelashes, notesting her eyes having darkened significantly. His thumb slid to her neck, feeling the softness of her skin. She felt…so comforting. He wasn't sure if he was correct - but he thought she sounded more breathy than usual. And he wondered how things had shifted so quickly - how it had gone from making her cry to having her in his arms looking up at him like she was begging.

Pressure formed under his stomach. That thing that had caused him to have her in the sopha. Moments ticked by like that, staring into each other's eyes. He wondered if she wanted him to get away...If she wanted to push him. But when her mouth opened, he was met with the soft voice that always made it feel like he could never go a day without properly hearing it speaking towards him...A question on the tip of her tongue...

"Please stay?”

And he found it impossible to deny her anything at the moment. He was so engrossed with the feel of her smooth skin and what she was implying he had completely forgotten to reply.

“Daryl?”

Fuck. Her voice always spoke it so delicately, like butterflies.

Daryl's hands slid to her hips, gouging her reaction to his touch. Her small fingers laced into the fabric near his neck as he laid her back, and it sounded like she could hardly inhale. Julia zipped open her sleeping bag, opening it completely, inviting him closer.

She had sounded beautiful that night, and had felt...even more so. He swallowed once more. She wasn't stopping him as he moved on top of her, boxing her in - but he felt she wouldn't. It was himself that he wanted to stop...but he couldn't. He stared down at her soft features. Her legs slightly spread apart, welcoming him. The room was silent besides their breaths and rain dripping against the windows. And he felt something he had known before - that he wasn't going to stop himself if he wasn't asked to…

"Julia," he breathed, and she was looking up at him with that soft expresion, "I...Need you to say it's okay."

His emotions had been all over the place before. So desperate for her touch there had been little time to think it true. Julia only nodded until he ordered,

"Say it."

"It's okay,” She breathed easely, smoothing his hair away from his eyes.

And everything - the regret from that morning after that night, all of it. It seemed to pause. Melt. Disappear for a moment. He worked quickly, removing the upper layers down to his sleeveless shirt, adamant to keep the scars on his back hidden.

Julia was beginning to take off her jacket as well and he assisted, helping her peel it of easley. discarding it to the floor, then her shirt followed, exposing her upper body to him and his eyes darkened seeing she hadn't been using a bra. His thirsty gaze followed down to her jeans and she must have sensed what he was asking,

“It’s okay, Daryl.” Julia assured.

And there it was again, the way she said his name.

He obliged, unbuckling her belt, then grabbed the edges of her jeans, hiking them downwards. Her plump bottom slid out from underneath her, and he pulled them down enough to expose her. He moved to her side, and found her mouth...And for the first time since that night - he kissed her.

He made a sound into her mouth deep and rumbling as he pressed into it. Julia's skin was warm and welcoming against him, and he couldn't describe what relief it was...She had forgiven him and was willing. Her hands were caressing his cheek and a part of him wondered how she could let him touch her again when he had been so terrible to her after that morning. But the thought only remained a moment before he pulled from the kiss, breathing heavily and he pushed his clothed front against the curve of her bottom, seeking that warm contact he needed.

Julia arched herself closer against him, inhaling sharply as his hand traveled along her breast and squished. She was squirming under his touche, and he liked how sensitive she was. He had barely touched her and she was already shaking. His right hand stayed there squeezing as his left agonizingly slow moved down, down to the heat between her legs. She was dripping wet already, the feel of it made his head spin. He began to move two fingers in and out of her and he was terribly hard against her, but he was focused on making her fall apart on his fingers. But then he could feel her reaching down to where he was moving inside of her and he was taken by surprise. She moved his two fingers with hers and began to guide him, making rhythmic circles there, with a certain amount of pressure. In an instant he could feel how she began to twitch against him, and he watched with awe.

She was showing him how she liked it and then let go when he continued on. And just like that he washed her fall apart under his touche. He soaked up every expression, every little sound she made, letting her breathe it true, then kissed her gently. Leaning into her ear he breathed,

“You're amazing.”

He could feel how his pants had grown even tighter as he wrapped his mouth around hers and he gave her other breast a squeeze. She whimpered. Softly - and he wished it was louder. It still sounded as if she was biting the sounds back and when he pulled away from the kiss onely to unbuckle his belt and release himself from the tight confinement of his pants, he slid his hand along himself, stroking back and forth a few times as he moved so he was properly spooning her.

He gently took the edges of Julia’s underwear, sliding them downwards to where the jeans were bunched up under her bottom. She allowed it easily, and his hand moved to feel the wetness, making sure she was ready. He kissed her shoulder, whispering into her skin,

"You're safe...You don't have to be quiet.”

She nodded against him and he grabbed himself, slowly dragging along her folds. She was slick, and he felt her twitch at his movement. With an arm around her from underneath he pulled her flush against his chest. Her nimble fingers found their way around his forearm, gripping onto him as he started to elinine himself. Entering, he gasped,

“Fuck.”

He had to go painfully slow as he made his way inside of her. The feel of her arching against him and her holding onto him like a lifeline made warmth spread through his lower body, she was so…just soft, everywhere it seemed. Welcoming him. Daryl could hardly stand the tightness - with his free hand he dug fingers into her hips tightly as he let her adjust herself around him. Onely when he could feel her relax he began to move, but slowly, he wanted it to last as long as it could.

With every rock of his hips Daryl when’t as deep as her body would let him, earning a soft whine of pleasure from Julias lips - Daryl gasped as well. He continued to grunt, keeping the pace slow but firm. There was a muffled cry, hearing it he realized she was keeping sounds from him, prompting Daryl to yank her hand from her mouth and out came those pretty sounds, one after the other slipping past her lips. He felt a sense of pride in that, knowing he had brought them to the surface.

Passing her hand to his other, ensuring she would not attempt it a second time. He reached down and began making circles around her swollen bud as he continued his steady pace. Her body moved deeply in response to his fingers joining. Julia was squirming and her legs trembled. He kept it how she had showed him, soft...slow...with just the right amount of pressure and at the same time tried to have her there as long as he coulde. The sounds from her were slowly growing, and he felt his stomach flutter a bit, when he heard her say in a quiet plea,

"Daryl,” It was breathless, it sounded perfect coming from her.

He pushed himself deeper, his fingers moving more urgently, finding that perfect pace that made her soft whimpers grow louder..louder still. He quickened it even more when he heard her breath beginning to speed up, her head fell back into his shoulder and her thighs began to squish his hand in response. He went faster and faster, trying to get her to that point. Leaning near her ear, he encouraged,

“Good girl, almost there.”

It didn't take long after that before he felt her twitches, her cries turning into soft whimpers. Daryl let her ride it out against his fingers. And he relished in it, her body warm and sweaty like his own. And never before had he wished that he wasn't the way he was about his scars, badly craving to be skin to skin, but his shame would not let him.

Leaning down he found her panting mouth and offered a hard kiss. She returned the kiss- but it was far gentler despite the trembling state she was in. Pulling from the kiss her eyes were still closed in bliss, and Daryl asked softly,

“You okay?"

Julia’s dark eyes fluttered open,

“Yeah…”

It was breathy the way she said it. He kissed her again - he just wanted to keep on kissing her. A part of him wanted to whisper words that would leave them both feeling dirty for days- but there was another part that just wanted her to know how beautiful she was - how wonderful she felt and how much he enjoyed to be inside of her - to just…fuck her out of her mind. He wouldn't of course, as he had promised himself to be nothing but gentle, taking his time that he didn't in their last encounter.

As they kissed he guided her so she was laying on her back, his free arm held her under her knees, holding them up. Her arms reached to where he was still on his side, wrapping them around his neck and it felt like they fitted like a puzzle piece. It was like she was sitting on his lap, but lying down. He liked how he had her face at full display, and he could kiss her much easier this way. With his other arm, still underneath her head, he took the side of her face into his grasp, forcing her to look at him. And when she began to close her eyes, he ordered,

“Hey, you keep those pretty eyes on me.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and her gaze was back on him.

“Good girl,” he praised. And a dark part of him liked how submissive she was.

Daryl couldn't hold out the slow pace for so much longer, it was too agonizing. He went just a bit faster, then a bit harder. Just a bit more he told himself. His hips were no longer rocking that steady pace into her making the sound of their bodies colliding come to life. The feel of her hot breath felt like feathers brushing along his face, as her fingers gripped onto the nap of his neck. Her touch was enough to make him want to go over the edge, watching her taking him so well as she held onto him as if her life depended on it - making it feel unfair for someone like him to be intimate with someone as perfect as her.

There was a particular whimper she made, that made his heart flutter every time, urging him faster and faster until eventually he simply couldn't stand it anymore. He removed his arm under her knees, adjusting Julia back into the spooning position as he continued, putting both his arms around her, tightly pushing her into his every trust. Julias head fell back as he continued to have her. Daryl planted a kiss on her face as he released his arm to spread her apart and quickened the pace even more, maybe being too rough as he slammed himself into her. Julia made a beautiful sound, arching even more for him to get better axes and Daryl held her tighter, spreading her cheeks to get to that perfect angle she seemed to like. Julia began to almost squirm her way out of his hold, as if she didn't know what else to do as the pleasure wracked her body. He heard her beg past her panting,

"Please..please..”

Daryl planted reshoring kisses down her neck then buried his forehead in her hair. She was tensing around him, and he felt his blood rushing in his ears in response to the feeling, pulling him closer to finish. Her hair felt so smooth and her scent enveloped his senses completely, his body started to become sloppy as he thrusted faster and more desperately the closer he came to climax. Julia was breathing so heavily, her sounds the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. Then something like electricity shot through his body. He groaned into her skin, tensing as he hugged her from behind, having her flush against him as he continued to rock true the climax. They were both sweating, his shirt and hair drenched in it - the smell of sex filing his nostrils. Her body was boneless against him as he continued to rock his hips just slightly.

Their chest was heaving rhythmically with one another and he could feel the wetness between her legs as he slipped out of her - and he wished he could stay in her warmth forever, holding her like this. His mind was fogged a bit, as he unburied his face from her hair and looked at her trembling mess.

Julia slid out his hold and turned to him with half lidded eyes, she truly was angelike, the afterglow having him infatuated with her boundless beauty. Daryl caressed her cheek affectionately and he didn't think she could ever fathom how much she meant...How her existence was one of the only things that mattered to him - how if he could have her every night, he would cease to need anything else. Her eyes began to draw heavy, as if exhaustion was finally cashing up. He pressed his mouth to her hairline and her eyes opened, she looked like she could fall asleep any second.

It had been far different from the first time - they had been through so much and he had thought he had almost lost her forever. He still wished he could do more to her - make her feel everything even though he had made her come three times this time. He smoothed back her dark curls, and she soaked in his touch with her eyes closed.

He was silent - almost frozen as he took in the beauty of her soft features. Until he quickly leaned forward, pressing a forceful kiss to her mouth, not gentle...He didn't know if his kisses ever were. She always seemed to be the one to force him to slow the insatiable desire to have more and more. She was too much, too kind, a safe haven between her legs and when it was over, he wished for more.

His thumb slid along her lips. And the thoughts of what had almost happened to her rushed in without warning. Truly, the thought of someone touching her the way he did made his mind flare in that same way that made him kill those asholes. The need to protect her, to keep her from harm's way in any form had grown into something that had begun to consume him - even bleed into his dreams if he failed. And he had never meant to treat her that way, it had been his attempt to protect her.

Selfishly he wanted every inch of her skin to be his. For him to be the only one that could ever pull any of those sounds from her. He must have disappeared into his thoughts when Julias hand slowly covered where he was smothering her hair, pausing his movement there. The glimmer in her eyes caught his attention sharply, it looked like she was about to cry and he feared he had hurt her somehow. Searching her face attentively, tilting her chin up Daryl questions,

“What’s wrong?”

A tear fell and he brushed it away just as quickly. She smiled sadly up at him and he questioned,

“Did I hurt yah?”

“No,” Julia denied, shaking her haid.

But something was, he could tell.

Her hand brushed away the hair covering his eyes, then moved along his face, then along his stubble, her thumb slid along his mouth, but she was much more delicate in her way of touching. No hurry behind it, just the attentive softness of her way of doing things. It almost felt even more intimate than being inside of her. Just the feeling of her made him feel a sense of safety he had never felt before and he desperately craved it, having been deprived of it his whole life. She continued on, some kind of emotion behind the words,

“I’m happy…But I’m…”

Daryl felt bothe confusion and worry to her words, and he just needed her to spit it out so he could fix it,

“But what?” Daryl questioned, desperate to get to the route of the problem.

Her brows came together and it came out so small from her lips…

“..Scared. Please don't wake up tomorrow and regret me.”

He felt guilt down to his core. Shaking his head he shushed her as gently as he could. He was beginning to learn how to comfort her, how to be gentle like she had with him.

"No, No, I won't. And I never did.” He confessed.

Julia blinked up at him in disbelief,

“But you said-

Daryl cout her of before she could finish,

“Fuck what I said,” he took a hold of her face, “I never regretted you and that’s the truth. You hear’n me.”

Julia searched his eyes carefully, maybe she was still in disbelief?

“You sure you're not saying that just because you feel sorry?”

“Yes,” Daryl insisted.

Then for the first time in a long time she gave him a true smile. God her mood swings were giving him whiplash. He gathered her into his chest. His arms enveloping her form as he snuggled his chin into the crook of her neck unintentionally making her giggle in response. He liked how happy it made her sound so he repeated the motion, making her bubble with laughter.

“Stop it Daryl! That tickles!” Julia laughs and Daryl chuckles, holding her in place so she couldn't escape.

Her laughter created butterflies in his stomach and only when she was out of breath he gave her a chance to breathe. He looked at her with affection he had never felt before, he looked at her exposed body and he could see goosebumps forming there.

“You cold?” He asked.

“A bit.”

And without a word he sat up and began helping her with getting her jeans back on. He had been the one to remove them, so he thought it was only reasonable for him to do so. Finishing with her shirt over her head he laid down and siped the sleeping bag back together, cocooning them as he held her close and spooned her. He felt her relax against him, her head becoming heavy on top of his arm. Her curls were everywhere. There was so much of it, he carefully gathered it and smoothed it away from his face. He could hear her breathing even out - then as if half asleep, almost innocently she said…

“You're so warm. You’re like your own sun.”

Daryl hummed with his eyes closed, feeling sleep taking a hold of him too. Snuggling his nose into her hair he said,

“Julia, it's time to sleep.”

But Julia never responded, having drifted away into the world of dreams, and he wondered if she had been asleep all along.

Pt.11 Masterlist

[pookie-mulder]

July 2024 fic roundup

Here are the highlights from this month! I really love doing these. It helps me be more engaged with what I’m reading and actually remember individual fics once I’m done with them (rather than stuffing them in the collective “fic soup” in my brain, where they’ll combine together until there’s no hope of remembering details). Anyway, I highly recommend doing some sort of fic journal! I’d love to know what you guys are reading.

🦆👧 Temporum VI by Emily_M1013

This is the third installment of a wonderful Emily AU, The Mallards series. I love how it puts its own spin on canon events, and I’m delighted every time I see an update in my inbox!

🤫🪪 Snakebitten by @onpaperfirst

My favorite thing about this fic is the way it adds to canon without rehashing what we’ve already seen in the show, building on season 5 so seamlessly. (The motel scene is 👌)

👰‍♀️🤵‍♂️yesterday’s future by @thursdayinspace

This fic answers the question I posed in this post: What if Mulder and Scully got married right after William was born? I loved it so much! The angst and the longing and the overwhelming love were just perfect.

👓😩 spectacular by @thursdayinspace

Scully has a thing for Mulder in glasses. Mulder has a think for Scully in glasses. They bang about it. (And who can blame them, really?)

🌳☕️ Suncadia by @sisterspooky1013

A banger from the great sisterspooky! It’s a casefic set in the weird post-Millennium era where they kiss sometimes but haven’t established the terms of their relationship yet. Pining and yearning abound!

🏥👰‍♀️ Something blue (and something pink) by @sunflowernyx

Mulder and Scully get married during the cancer arc. It’s sweet, angsty, adorable, and tender. I thoroughly enjoyed it!

🐶🪤 A Change of Seasons by Jo-Ann Lassiter

Still making my way through @lilydalexf’s survival fic recs! This one is a one-shot; perfect for when you want a bit of hurt/comfort without all the peril and drama.

🌨️🌲 Frozen by @dashakay

Classic, cozy, cabin-in-the-woods fic where our two favorite agents get snowed in and finally admit their feelings for each other.

🏥👻 Finding Rokovoko by prufrockslove

An instant addition to my holy grail list! This is the first fic I’ve read by this legendary author (I think?), and BOY HOWDY do I see why they’re so revered. I finished this fic in one sitting, reading late into the night (yes, I was very tired at work the next day).

I think it’s best if you go into this one mostly blind. All you need to know is that MSR are teetering on the knife’s edge between UST and RST, there’s plenty of cancer arc angst, and they go on a spooky adventure that will give you the creepy crawlies.

📝📱 Belphegor’s Prime by prufrockslove

Another absolute banger from the legend themselves. This fic is as close to perfection as humanly possible. The way everything comes together is just incredible. If you haven’t read it yet, do it now! Shirk all other responsibilities and devour this fic in one sitting!

One of my favorite things about this fic is how ruthless Mulder is. I don’t think I’ve encountered a version of him quite like this anywhere else. His intense love for his family and his innate sense of duty are intensified to the point where he skirts the boundaries of what’s morally acceptable. He’s so desperate to protect his loved ones and fix the world that he will do anything, even if he risks becoming his father(s). It felt so organic and natural for him to become that version of himself under the extreme circumstances.

Anyway, if you’re a fan of time travel, DILFs, or characters whose greatest strengths become a curse, this is the perfect fic for you!

🎪🎡 More Than a Feeling by @sisterspooky1013

A s6 casefic where M&S go undercover at a traveling carnival. I love how fleshed-out the OCs were — it really raised the stakes of the story and made you care what happened to them. Such a fun read!

🐞🩺 Inspection by @ingridgradient

Our favorite agents use tick checks as an excuse to touch each other. Need I say more? Things get hot! (Thanks for the rec, @is-on-its-way!)

P.S. If you like this one, check out let’s have a look by girlfromnowhere (thanks for finding it for me, @randomfoggytiger!)

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿✝️ Hiraeth by prufrockslove

This is one of those fics that leaves you gobsmacked that someone wrote this for free and posted it online for anyone to enjoy. The amount of detail in this story is truly unbelievable. I don’t even normally like total AUs, but this one won me over!

Mulder and Scully’s medieval counterparts are so far removed from anything in canon, yet they still feel exactly like the characters we know and love. This fic is an absolute master class in characterization. I am now a prufrockslove stan account.

———

Special shoutout to @skelavender’s latest installment of fall into place, which isn’t out yet but I had the pleasure of beta reading. Guys, you are in for some serious shrimp emotions. It’s got everything you could ever want. I can’t wait until everyone gets to see how awesome it is!

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

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

♡ ｡ﾟ･ word count: 13.2k+

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

♡ ｡ﾟ･ what to expect: nsfw, childhood-friends-to-strangers-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.

(!!!) theme song: nothing matters but you by madison beer

main female character:

Madison Carter

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

— out of sight, out of mind.

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

— dog lover.

— #1 fan of chocolate chip pancakes.

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.

chapter one (coming soon…)

chapter two (coming soon…)

chapter three (coming soon…)

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

i absolutely fell in LOVE with your price fic holy shit. your writing is spectacular. then i read your request info and saw that you love keegan as well and my soul left my body.

So this is me requesting a keegan x reader fic bc i love this underrated man SO much!! maybe some enemies to lovers where one of them gets injured in the field and, thinking they're dying, a teary desperate confession ensues? lol im not good with prompts i just wanna see my man 🤧 thanks in advance i love ur work

(Don't) Go to War

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

Synopsis: Some days it became impossible not to lose your tempers with each other. Being enemies was easier than admitting you cared.

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: Angst, enemies to lovers, blood & gore, vulgar language, fluff & comfort eventually, suggestive (just a tiny bit)

A/N: Just a few more requests to get done, and then my inbox should be open again. I'm thinking I might do an independent Gaz fic too...but idk yet. Enjoy, Love!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Some days it became impossible not to yell at him.

“I had the shot, Keegan!” Your voice carries over the hull of C-23 Sherpa, and you didn’t bother to stay strapped into your seat as the aircraft levels out around you. Thrusting your body up, your feet slam to the floor as you stalk over to the silent man who watches you with burning blue eyes, “If you hadn’t gotten in the way the target would be six feet under by now!” 

Your face was twisted with rage, and a need for justice laced your brain like an inextinguishable blaze of fire. 

Keegan and you had a violent streak of not getting along - to the point where Elias was close to separating the two of you permanently. It wasn’t entirely your fault, the man just got on your nerves when he acted like he could boss you around. No Man’s Land was your playground; you knew the trails, where to take shelter when needed, and what towns and backroads to avoid because of Federation occupation. You spent most of your time beyond the walls of Fort Santa Monica just like Keegan and the other Ghosts did – he had no right to lecture you out here. 

He had no right to fuck up the mission.

“Kid,” The man in question warns, his form tense from where it leans against the wall. Around the two of you, the aircraft shakes from turbulence. Keegan’s eyes narrowed to slits, and behind the cloth over his face you see his lips thin dangerously, “I’d be careful what you say next.” 

“Oh, shut the hell up!” You growl. The dirt and blood sticking to your skin makes you want to scratch at yourself with blunt nails; rip away the grime. Stomping up to Keegan you stand directly in front of him, a sneer heavy on your lips. Your body is shaking with adrenaline, “You have no right to tell me that. I worked my ass off getting that intel on Vidal Teo for months just for you to mess up my shot in no less than three seconds. What the fuck?!” 

Keegan’s dead eyes glare from behind the stain of his black eye paint, the custom balaclava shifting as his hidden face moves. Over his arms, his fingers tense and tighten; a pulsing atmosphere begins to perforate the hull. The already strained rope was snapping.

Vidal Teo was a high-ranking commander for the Federation soldiers stationed in a large portion of No Man’s Land. He was instrumental in leading the frontal assault on the Fort – which had been getting steadily worse as the years went on. Vidal was a man marked for death, and your bullet had his name carved into the silver grooves. 

He was yours. 

“I don’t like your tone, Princess,” Keegan hisses down at you, but his intimidation tactics don’t work. He was large, sure, with a gargantuan build that made your shoulders square, but the anger in your blood pumped with vengeance, “I’m in command of the mission, don’t go mixing it around. You listen to me.”

“Not when Teo was right fucking in front of me,” Your head whips to the side, hands clenched as you point a single finger into the man’s chest. The two of you were so close you could feel his gear brush against yours when he breathed. Inside your form, your pulse sings, “If you hadn't fired that shot all of this would have been finished. Now,” You lower your voice as his enraged eyes bore into you, “He’s off in the damn wind. We’ll never get an opportunity like that again.” 

“Back up.” Keegan stands straighter, arms falling to his sides, and at that moment a sliver of hesitance makes its way into your heart as his shadow looms over you, “Now. Before you do something you’ll regret.”

Clenching your jaw, your finger falls. No matter how pissed off you were at the Ghost, one thing he said was right. Keegan was in control of this mission – technically he was your superior at the moment. You should listen to him. 

Listen? Your eyes flash, Like he listened to me? I told him to not fire while I lined my scope up…Why the hell did he do that?

“The sooner you’re out of my life,” Growling, you stare deep into Keegan’s eyes and only slightly shiver at the intensity. You could feel his breath coming out in strained puffs, wafting over your face, “The better. This is on you…All of my goddamn work down the drain…” 

Jerking back as you grumble the last sentence under your breath, you storm past the Ghost’s stone-still figure and enter the cockpit, feeling his locked gaze on you the entire time. You slam the door shut, only serving to make the pilots snap their attention to you, mouths slack and optics wide.

“What?” You growl, glaring and practically releasing steam out of your ears. Damn that man and his stupidly handsome face…What?

The pilots quickly stutter back to their controls, backs straight, and heads forward. 

Blinking, you scrunch your lips; your sense coming back to you as your shoulders deflate. 

“Fuck,” Grumbling, you bring your hands up and place them on top of your head, lacing the fingers together as your elbows stick out. You glance remorsefully at the two stiff profiles, “Sorry, boys. Long day.” 

Elias was going to lecture you again. 

He always did when you and Keegan got into fights – they were becoming more and more recent in the past few months. From common disagreements about misplaced knives or weapons to full-blown yelling matches over accidents on missions, the recurring bouts of thrown words never seemed to end. 

You were so incredibly sick of it. 

Why were you always fighting with him? Why did every action strike you in the heart like a blade? You were always tense around Keegan, sending sharp glances at him every time he was in the vicinity and sharper words a second later. He did the same in return, it wasn’t like this was one-sided. The man was determined to push every button in the book, and damn it if you didn’t do that as well. 

Keegan was a man on a high horse; arrogant, hard-headed, rude, and held authority like a stick you could beat someone over the head with. He demanded utter perfection. 

Sighing violently, you lean back against the door and shove your palms into your eye sockets; head tilting back to rest on the cool metal and soothe the growing headache.

The problem was, most of the time the man was right when he told you something – whether work-related or not. 

“Tango to the left – weapons hot.”

“Contact Scarecrow, Exfil in five. We have a group just above the pharmacy building.”

“West, Kid. Snipers scope, take ‘em down.”

No Man’s Land was supposed to be your playground and all of a sudden some other kid comes along; starts throwing rocks at the equipment with a damn painted balaclava over his face. You didn’t want someone telling you how to do your job. 

Frowning, your teeth nash in annoyance. 

This flight back to Santa Monica couldn't end soon enough, and now you had months of Recon intel sitting in your office to throw into the trash.

—

You grabbed at the pinned-up files with paper-cut fingertips, looking over the contents before frowning. Tossing them to the side, your ears twitch at the flopping sound of them flying into the garbage bin at your feet. 

The bulletin board was bare of all the red yarn, maps, and intel that you had once hung up with pride. Vidal Teo was gone, and just so the board was once more empty. It was hard not to feel cheated, angry, but maybe a part of you felt emptiness as well. 

All of that work… just for one shot to mess it up. And the bullet wasn’t even from your own gun. 

“I swear,” You whisper, itching at your nose, “If I ever get up on a team with him again…” 

Trailing off, your legs shift and carry you to your desk where you throw yourself down into the chair. Thoughts of Keegan made your brain race, mind going to try and understand why. Even if you didn’t like the man, at least on the surface, you still respected him. 

So, why? None of it made sense. Why fire off into the city at an unidentified target and send Teo rushing for cover? Why not explain to you what had happened when you were back on the plane? If he had made a mistake and admitted that, you would have accepted it… eventually, of course, but you still would have accepted it regardless. You would have had to.

Licking your lips, you tap your knuckles onto the metal of your desk, playing a long-forgotten tune. You never heard the door open.

“Heard the Op didn’t go as planned, but at least the two of you didn’t kill each other. I’d have a helluva a lot of paperwork to do if you put a bullet in his ass,” Sitting up straighter your head snaps to the open doorway, seeing the stocky stature of Thomas Merrick with his arms crossed over his chest, “Still, though, heard ya’ nearly made those pilots piss their pants when you yelled at ‘em.”

“Merrick,” You groan out, tipping your head past the chair’s backing, your neck digging into the wood, “You’re acting like I try to be a bitch.” 

“Are you not,” When you glare at him, the man’s dark eyebrow raises slightly, “Because you’re failing at it – often. Elias’s at the end of his rope with you two.”

Grumbling, your nose scrunches, lips pulling back in a small snarl. 

“It’s not my fault. Keegan hates me just the same.” 

“That any excuse to yell at a superior?” Merrick sighs, shaking his bald head and walking forward, “Thought I trained you better than that?” 

Your eyes flicker to his own, but seeing the blatant disappointment in them, you find it better to look at the empty bulletin board. Swallowing stiffly, your feet shuffle on the floor. 

“Look at all my work, Thomas,” Shoving yourself to your feet, you walk to the small garbage bin and pick it up; holding it aloft, you watch the Ghost’s Field Officer's lips thin. There was a mass amount of wasted paper, pictures, and yarn that caught his eye. You go and slam it onto your desk, hearing the clatter as the pencil holder falls to its side, “Wasted. Because of one man’s actions – how many people are going to die now because I couldn’t make the shot? Ten, twenty, thirty…?” 

“Kid–” Merrick begins, but you cut him off – still angry at Keegan and trying to strangle down the guilt of pushing it onto Thomas.

“If you don’t mind, Merrick, I have a shit-ton of reports to sign and no time to do them,” Once more flopping back into your chair, you rub your hands over your face and feel the skin pull. If you were anyone other than yourself, you would be getting a reprimand for interrupting a superior like that but Merrick was something of a friend to you. 

Closing your eyes, you let the darkness behind your lids flood you as you take a deep breath. 

The Ghost leaves after a moment without noise or a sound of encouragement, but that was just how he was. You feel his dark eyes on you, lingering, before he closes the door behind him and stalks away. 

Finally left alone in silence, you let your thoughts run to try and answer the age-old question that ravaged your mind.

“What happened to make us like this?” You whisper, hands falling to your lap as you stare off into the distance with blank eyes. 

You had never given it much thought – sometimes people just didn’t like each other. Ingrained enemies written into the annals of time and cursed to forever be at each other's throats like rabid animals. But then you realized that this wasn’t high school and you were an adult living in a fucked up world full of death and war. Coworkers no longer had the privilege to talk shit about the other behind their backs or not communicate their problems; being out in No Man’s Land forced people to compromise and work together like a well-oiled machine. 

And well-oiled was not the way to describe yours and Keegan's relationship…more like a run-down and rusty car that screams every time you turn the key; practically begging someone to put it out of its misery. 

Blinking, you realize, perhaps for the first time, how much of a problem this predicament with Keegan really was. 

This could kill us both.

All of this began, you knew, a long time back, and, as it usually did, it had started out beyond the Fort before bleeding back into the ramshackle place you called home. The both of you were enemies far longer than you had been friends.

Your body was hot, sweat dripping down your temple and slipping the expanse of your chin, but still, you stood outside Elias Walker’s door with a tense jaw; fingers itching to rip into Keegan’s flesh. They were speaking inside, their voices hushed as your boots pooled mud and dirt onto the floor like a brand. 

“She…went over the ridge?” Elias asks, voice deep, “And she’s alive?”

“Hm,” Keegan makes a savage noise in the back of his throat, and you have to hide your panting breaths to hear it. The damn bastard was always so silent any sound would perk your ears, even if they were ringing with reverberations of spent bullets.

“Then I don’t exactly see what the problem is, Keegan.”

A pause.

“...She’s impulsive. Combative. Doesn’t listen,” There was an inhaled breath, and you feel your face burn at the profound gravel-toned words, lungs making your chest tighten as they zip closed as a bag would. But those next comments make you growl in the back of your throat, rage like fire in your heart, “I don’t want her. Kid’ll get the people she’s placed with killed if she’s allowed to do that again!”

A sigh through the shocked silence. 

“Then what do you suggest I do? She’s a valuable asset, I can’t just ground her – the Recon work she does is vital to finding Federation strongholds.”

“I don’t care what you do with her, Elias. Just keep her far away from me and the boys. Kid’s not my problem. Never want her to be again.”

Whatever harsh words are uttered next are lost to you, because your legs are already carrying you down the corridor with brimming tears stuck in the corners of your eyes. 

It was more the way he said it than the contents of the clipped sentences. Like you were less than him, pathetic, and unworthy. Nothing more than a rookie holding a gun and parading off into the wilderness to have a good time. That was what wrecked you.

The next time you saw Keegan it was only narrowed glances and clenched fists; terse words. When you snapped at him for the first time, you swear his eyes slightly widened, cold blue one second then boiling bright the next.

You liked that look on him – shocked into a different type of silence. A type of anger you could meet head-on.

Fighting with Keegan soon became too addicting to ignore, a constant activity that never changed like the destroyed world always did. A failsafe at the end of the day. 

 The anger had never dimmed, infecting you like a poisoned worm stuck in your veins and weaseling its way to your heart. It had only grown the longer you let it sit, and at the end of the day, you festered over the image of the Ghost’s face with his eyes digging into your skin. You stayed awake at night mulling over the arguments, taking the insults and words like bullet wounds to your heart with barely restrained tears; feeling guilty because you threw some back as well. 

But what hurt you the most was that, before the hushed meeting in Elias’s office, you had looked up to him. To Keegan. Perhaps you had even enjoyed his quiet company at one point when the loneliness of No Man’s Land got to you. The terrain was incredibly quiet in between the violent hails of gunfire and, on occasion, it would make paranoia infect your bones like a cancer; producing shaking limbs and tense fingers. When Keegan was with you…you hated to admit this, but he made the silence better. More survivable compared to when you were alone doing Recon with only a gun and a combat knife as deadly companions. 

Your narrowed lids flicker to the trash bin on the desk. 

There was still a small pinch of anger – resentment for the waste and for words spoken in haste – but your mind pulsed to find an explanation. A reason. 

There must be a reason that Keegan would fire off a shot into the city prematurely…obviously it was to hit a target, but why? And why hadn’t he told you the reason? 

I’m gonna rip my head apart if I keep thinking this over, You warn yourself, huffing under your breath. 

You had reports to write up – tell of your failure to kill Vidal Teo and how many lives that will ultimately cost in the future. While you were stuck with a pen in your hand, scribbling away even as the sun had set outside, you had no idea of the stare-down going on in Elias’s office one floor up.

—

Elias’s eyes are sharp, a wave of dark anger deep in the iris as he stands with his arms crossed behind his desk, “Why’d you fire?”

Keegan's feet are shoulder length apart and his arms are clenched behind his back, spine straight; a deep tension lives in the thick air, bearing down weight on the men. The Ghost was still in his gear, the balaclava and black face paint in all its glory situated over his head. That was his best form of armor, allowing him to hide the deep sneer over his cruelly scared lips. 

“Tango. Off in the next building,” Keegan’s voice was low, harsh, and cut to a point. He didn’t want to be there – there were many more important things to be done than getting a lecture like a five-year-old. 

His sniper rifle needed cleaning, rookies needed to be disciplined, and the treadmills were calling his name. He had to work off all the bullshit in his head.

“The Girl had the shot. Vidal Teo needed to die, Russ – she knew that well enough. I want an explanation as to why a high-priority target is still up and walking.” 

The silent beast of a man keeps his body still, even if his head is pounding. Hot adrenaline was still in his veins from how you were yelling at him in the Sherpa, the memory of your rage-twisted face burning into the back of his eyes. He had never seen you that angry before; shaking with the need to release your displeasure onto him. It had slightly taken him aback. 

Fighting with you was predictable. You’d both throw insults, get into each other's faces and cruelly break down each other's psyche piece by piece – the man knew what to say and where the unspoken line was just as you did. Fighting was easier than admitting there was something deeper going on, something that you two were hesitant to even speak of. 

But, hell, you had never gotten that upset at him previously. And, problem was, even if he wanted to deny it, Keegan knew he fucked up. Bad. 

There wasn’t a way in hell that he was going to tell you that, though. He wasn’t going to tell you that his finger had moved before his mind could, pulling down on the hair-trigger of his prized rifle like a fucking novice. Even now self-resentment was worming into him.

He had never felt that to this degree before. He didn’t like it – couldn’t afford to acknowledge it.

What gave you the right to provoke those emotions from him? Maybe I need to ask to have her transferred. Brat’s messin’ with my head.

“Miscalculation. Won’t happen again.” His feet shuffle, boots shifting silently over the floor like that of his title. Miscalculation – he doesn’t make those. Never had after ODIN hit the US. There wasn’t any room for them. 

Keegan was a master of taking lives with a swift movement and a pull of a trigger; no one had ever known him to be reckless. 

They had you for that.

Elias narrowed his eyes, head tilting, as a tightness is seen rippling through his jaw, “You’re going to have to lie better than that, Son.”

Keegan stilled, dead eyes boring into the other man’s. The sharp blue deepens, darkens. His shoulders set themselves, but the ingrained looseness is still there if someone looks close enough and spies it. Instinct is hard to fight. 

“Elias?” He asks from behind the fabric of his face covering but utters no more. 

Keegan was a man of few words – very few. Actions served him better, but in this room, there was no point to them. Walker was his superior; his Captain, but more so the closest thing to a brother Keegan would ever have. There wasn’t a choice in this, even if the men had gone through hell together as Ghosts. 

“Don’t play me for a fool, Keegan,” The graying man mutters out, shaking his head and going to rest his hands on the top of his desk, “I’ve known you a long time. You don’t fuck up something like this. Never have. So don’t insult me with that half-assed answer.” 

Elias pauses, sighing when Keegan just stares at him with blank, black-laced, hard eyes. The man was a damn empty slate, never moving, never giving away anything to betray his emotions.  

“I want a full report on my desk in a week. I’m sure the Kid’ll have hers done in a day, but I want you to explain yourself. In detail. You hear?”

“Copy.” 

“Dismissed.”

Keegan turns and leaves without another word, just a burning in his gut and a righteous sense of surety in his bloodstream. Your face slashes over his vision as he exits the room, he closes the door behind him and thumps down the halls. People move out of his way quickly, sending glances with pupils so tiny they practically disappear altogether; Keegan knew he was intimidating, especially with all his gear and smelling like gunpowder and blood. Didn’t bother him much. 

It seemed like it didn’t bother you either, judging by how you were in his face screaming all the time. 

Damn brat, Keegan thinks, itching at his nose bridge and sending stiff glances at the rows and rows of closed doors and windows, She doesn’t know anything.

Before long his feet had carried him down corners and hallways as his head pounded, and it wasn’t a surprise that when he shook himself out of his trance the entire make-up of the floors and walls had changed. 

Wait…where was he? 

His pace slows to a stop, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. Where had he ended up while his mind was running at the thought of you? This had never happened before – the Ghost’s head was all out of sorts if he was talking walks around the Fort without a destination. Every action of his had a purpose, why was that now becoming anything less than fact? 

Annoyance plagued him.

Sliding his eyes around, a certain office window catches his viper-like attention. It was the only one with a light still on, warm rays shining out into the hallway, and the shuffling of paper and manila folders flowing to his ears. The door was only minutely ajar, a sliver, and nothing more. About to turn around and leave the area, Keegan halts at the sound of a familiar voice grumbling. His heart jerks.

Blue eyes narrow, and that annoyance at himself grows to find an external outlet.

The hell is this Kid doin’ up so late? Doesn’t she know when lights out is? Fuck, looks like she can’t follow simple guidelines either.

With shuffling feet, he takes a step forward and has every intention to bust down the door and force you to the barracks; lecturing you on the importance of rest when he suddenly realizes something.

Why does he care if you get a good night's sleep? 

Growling under his breath, he happens to get a glimpse of a moving shadow through the window that gives him pause with one gloved hand on the woodgrain of the door. If possible, he feels his body completely stop at the scene; his eyes flickering into a widened look. 

And what was that tightening in his chest?

You were staring at the hung-up bulletin board, having dragged your desk chair over and situated it right in front of the bare rectangle that once held an innumerable amount of papers and information. 

Keegan had seen it himself right before the mission had started. Your eyes lit up when you could tell him everything you knew about the target from his schedule to what he ate in the mornings.

Eggs with a protein bar. Two cups of milk.

You had gathered all of that info yourself – countless trips into Federation-occupied territory that left you coming back with bruises and deep lacerations. Keegan knew; he had watched you limping back through the gate with a shielded look in his eyes. But now the board was blank and useless, holding nothing but your knowledge that it was once filled with your labors. 

The Ghost’s hand on the door loosens, and he takes a slow inhalation of breath as your tired eyes get glossy. When had you gotten those bags under your eyes? Keegan’s lips pull thin behind his balaclava. Had…had you always looked that tired? 

Had you both really been fighting so much that he had stopped noticing the most basic parts of you that he had watched so closely before?

“I had it…” Keegan’s shoulders tense when he hears you speak, but he doesn’t move. A needle of guilt moved to dig deeper. Your hopeless sigh leaves him gritting his teeth, “Fuck.” 

Digging your palms into your eyes, he watches you shake, limbs tense and hunched over nearly into a ball. He has the sudden urge to push the door open, not to scold you but to simply stand by your side. Tell you the truth. 

Keegan’s eyebrows pull together, gaze flicking away from you so his brain can focus. But it was like a magnet was stuck behind his optics because it wasn’t long before his eyes flowed back to the small figure. 

He stays there for a good while, watching, with a weighted chest and pounding heart. Keegan couldn’t really say what he was thinking about, but all of it certainly involved you. So why couldn’t he open the door?

When your head jerks back up, his eyes widen, body swiftly moving back. 

By the time you look out the office window, his shadow is already disappearing down the hallway. 

—

You nearly lose your cool when Elias tells you Keegan was accompanying you out into No Man’s Land once more. The bags under your eyes burned – weeks had passed since the fight, and you had gotten little sleep since then. 

“Teo was sighted by one of the drones near an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of San Francisco. I want you and Keegan on the trail, and, hopefully,” Elias mutters as Merrick and Ajax listen in the background. Your apparent partner stands behind you, leaning back on the wall with his arms crossed, “We can put this to rest.”

Standing rail-straight, your face is twisted but you keep yourself under control. Even being in the same room with Keegan made you want to lash out. At your sides, your hands slowly clench into tight fists, and behind you, a sharp gaze digs its claws into your skull.

He’s watching you. Studying like he always does when he thinks you don’t notice. 

“Sir,” You answer the older Ghosts blankly, lips stiff, “If you think that’s best.” 

“I do,” Merrick raises a brow behind Elias, and you pretend not to notice as Ajax’s shoulders shake, “That going to be a problem?”

Ironically, Keegan and you both answer at the same time, a strangling silence before a snarled, “No, Sir.” 

The pair of you shipped out in thirty minutes, but neither of you bothered to look at the other as you gathered supplies in the armory; grabbing magazine after magazine and strapping knives to thighs, arms padded with thick clothes and heavy black combat vests. Keegan was applying his face paint despite the dark color already stained into his eye sockets. You doubted it could come off anymore – the skin was probably so damaged by the chemicals it was pointless to try. Like some brutal birthmark. He slipped the balaclava over soon after.

The fabric covered the dark hair and strong jaw, slightly marred with stubble – long scars that grew harsher when his skin twisted; the angled lips below a sharp nose that had captured your attention the first time you had seen them. Keegan was undoubtedly handsome, carved from stone and silver – the remnants of that artistry only now glimpsed in his eyes as a cold reminder. It was funny, you thought, that someone so beautiful could be such an ass. You watched him, terse-like, and grabbed a revolver hanging from the rack, shoving it into your thigh holster. 

He was acting off. 

Keegan was more silent than he usually was; at this point, he would at least make a quick quip about your annoying habit of packing extra ration bars in your front pouch. 

‘Gonna weigh you down, Kid, if you stuff one more of those damn things into your vest.’

But the more you sneaked glances, the more your feet started to shuffle in unease. The Ghost wouldn’t even look at you. 

“You sick or something?” Your voice carries, echoing off the walls as you tighten the vest strap on your side. You had never bothered to be subtle when talking to the man – he appreciated bluntness, and that was one thing you could get behind. 

“No,” Keegan slips past, suddenly colder than ever before, and disappears without another word. 

Watching his back shift as he strides off, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and perhaps a bit of shock. 

What the hell was that? You ask yourself, hands falling to your sides where they twitch. Keegan was damn confusing, but he had never been outright numb like that to you besides when you both first met. Your resentment flares in your breast, but with a shake of your head, you force it down. That wouldn’t help anyone, and you still wanted answers. 

If this was how Keegan wanted to be then fine, you’d just have to ask Elias for his report when you got back and figure out for yourself why he had ruined the previous mission. 

You grabbed a canteen of water and shuffled out the door, flicking off the light with a heavy finger and followed after the Ghost’s footsteps; dreading the Op but feeling your pulse beat at the thought of nabbing Teo once and for all. 

This was ending. Today. 

—

The aircraft landed just far enough away to be unseen by Federation soldiers and on the line of being annoyingly distant from the target. The hike would be through mountainous terrain – the land ravaged by the remnants of ODIN’s destruction and just beginning to heal. On top of steep cliffs, and sharp rocks, there would also be rampaging streams and thick foliage. Speaking from experience, you knew it was going to be a sweat-inducing mission…and that was before you got to the main point of it all. 

Both of you disappear into the treeline after the pilot tells you the future Evac Point, hoofing it at a jog into the shadows and blending in like animals. Under your feet, the leaves crush, telling stories of where you placed your weight as the packs over your body jump with every jerk forward. Keegan takes the lead, silently expecting you to follow as your eyes stare into his back. 

He still hadn’t talked to you. It made your skin crawl.

Watching his gait, you frown and clench your jaw. Why did it bother you so much? Wasn’t this what you wanted all along…for him to leave you alone? 

Sighing, you hop over a downed log, seeing Keegan quickly send a look behind him at your form before snapping his head forward. 

“There’s an old structure west of the Warehouse – a hunting lodge still standing from before ODIN was fired, I found it on one of my other Ops,” You call, moving faster to run side-by-side with the man. Dodging a tree, your tongue runs over your lips, “We should set up there – we’d have a clear shot.”

For a moment there was only the sound of shoved foliage, steady breaths, and clinking gear before Keegan replies. 

“Affirm.” 

He pulls ahead, and you’re left widely watching his shoulders, seeing the muscles under his attire ripple as they propel him faster away. Your eyelids narrow, a thin sneer flickering over your lips.

Keep your cool, You follow after, careful where you place your feet as the ground begins to ascend, If I get him in a good mood, maybe he’ll answer my questions later. 

It was easier said than done, of course, and although your efforts were valiant, none of your plans to get him to speak to you landed. The hike ended with panted breaths and a setting sun, mist seeping like snakes over the rocks under your feet; the world was quiet, and try as you might you found a deep sense of loneliness in that. The pair of you were on top of a ridge, surrounded by deep green and gray. No birds sang, and no animals trampled the land – it was just the harsh wind and the creak of stretching metal from far ahead. The occasional smell of dirt that left your nose full of particles and led to coughing fits.

Perhaps Keegan had the right idea for a face covering, even if it was never intended for the reason of keeping the elements out.

The Warehouse was near a crater, one of the places ODIN had struck directly into the Earth, and teetered on the edge of oblivion as it was half-falling apart and drenched in red rust. Occasionally, as a tremor rolled through, pieces of it would fall off and slam to the ground a million miles away, deep into the crust of what was left. 

Definitely a place for a safe house. No one would bother to look here unless you already knew about it or were hiding something.

Thinking to yourself, you rub the sweat off your nose with the back of your hand, eyes flickering to the hole in the Earth with shielded disgust. It had been over ten years, but the horror was still there. All of those innocent people… 

“Here,” The smooth voice startles you, but your attention diverts quickly to the man at your side. His hands hold out a red cloth in his first and second fingers and pointedly avoids sneaking a peak at your shocked expression. Your mouth opens and closes, optics bouncing back and forth between the gift and the strange Ghost. 

You could hear a pin drop if you had one to throw.

“The fuck are you doing?” 

“Your stench is going to alert the guards – wipe yourself off. I need to repeat myself, Princess?” With an unamused face, you snatch the textile and rub it over your heated skin, reveling in the dismissal of layers of salt. 

“Asshole,” You mutter, “You better not have used this before me; if I get acne I’m shaving your head in your sleep and siccing Riley on you.” 

“Sounds fun. Better make sure I’m dead by the end of it.”

“Trust me, I will. I’ll make sure to chuck your body from the Fort wall, too,” Sliding past him, you toss the cloth at his chest, “Hunting lodge is this way.” 

You get so close your shoulders lightly brush, and although you hate the implications, the action leaves your chest tight as you inhale his scent of blood and shrill chemicals. Clenching your jaw, you don’t take in the way his warmth floods your veins or the cold gaze that follows your back as you walk away; briefly softening around the edges like a blunt blade before being sharpened once more under stone and rock.

Hearing his feet lightly caress the ground behind you, you let out a slow breath, shoving away a branch of a low tree and peeping back. Keegan's gaze locks on your own as if he was waiting for this, and you curse not being able to see his expression – but it wasn’t like that would give away anything either. The Ghost was blank, much like the bulletin board had been when you ripped your work from it.

Raising a dark brow, the man grunts under his breath in question as his large shadow leeks over your form. 

“Nothin,’” You mutter and turn back, fixing the strap of your rifle and side step a piece of cut wood, looking like it was the remains of a windowsill that had been broken during the shockwave and flung from a house, “Thanks for the rag. Even if it did smell like Gun Oil.”

Blinking down at the forgotten object, your arms push through one more set of fauna and huff when you lay eyes on the run-down lodge that would be Base Camp. Rushing up the decaying steps, you push the paint-peeing door open and throw your hands out.

“And here we are,” Walking with acute familiarity into the one-room area, “Home sweet home,” You nod your head to the left, where a large window gives a clear view of the Warehouse down below, “We’ll take the shot from over there, but…here…where did I…?” 

Stumbling to a stop, you take one step back and ignore the narrowed eyes on your back.

“The hell you looking for, Kid?” 

“Shh,” You snap your fingers at a loose board near a broken-down TV stand, “There we go!” Jogging over, you place your foot on one end of the board and grab the now-propped-up opposite side with a heavy hand. Like a teeter-totter. 

Tossing the wood away, you grab the stash you had hidden years ago and hold it aloft near your head as you turn around.

Keegan watches with small eyes, head tilted, and feeling a bit curious about where this was going. What were you holding in your hand…? Was that…?

“Chocolate bars? I thought those were under strict ration laws?” His booted feet carry him closer to you and the plastic bag holding three bars of the old treat, “Damn, Kid.” 

The man didn’t ask how you knew they were there – at least, yet – but he had an idea. You had logged more hours outside than anyone else besides the Ghosts, and with your affinity to keep to your own, it was only common sense that you had stashes all over California.

“Special occasion,” You mutter, opening the bag and tossing him one. Of course, he catches it, flipping it over in his hands and rubbing a thumb over the wrapper. Keegan’s eyes filter back to yours slowly, and under him, his feet shuffle to shift his weight. 

“Y’know these things are probably older than Fort Santa Monica, right? It’ll give you gut rot.”

“God, I hope so,” You rip the wrapper open and snap off a piece as you hear crinkling from the other bar being opened; you toss yours into your mouth and smirk, “Maybe Ajax’ll finally lend me his alcohol stash to help me out for once. Bastard keeps making excuses.”

The bar was a bit stale if you were being honest, but it was still chocolate in your books. Stuffing the rest of it in your side pocket, you slip the rifle from around your back and head to the window, with the butt of the gun you raise it up and bring it down. A corner of the glass shatters into a million pieces, falling to the ground outside like tiny stars and reflecting the dying light. 

Far below, miles away, the Warehouse seems dead to the world, but your and Keegan’s trained eyes spy the microscopic shadows in the rust-strangled metal walls, slipping past like rats over the holes and windows. 

“Visual?” The man next to you asks, pulling back down his balaclava, and your ears twitch as you gaze through your scope; watching with perfected focus. Pulling back with a grunt, you flip the gun and rest the barrel against the wall, sighing.

“Negative. There won’t be until the sun sets fully,” Keegan turns to look down at you, and the fabric around his mouth shifts into a frown. You raise a brow and explain, not needing him to ask his question, “I‘ve tracked this guy like a teenager on the internet who has a crush. I know his routine. When the sun sets he checks the perimeter with two of his guards, Fabián Julieta and Santos Rosa – I have reason to believe they’re his cousins, but it’s never been confirmed.”

“You sure he’ll do that?” Keegan scoffs, looking back out and tapping his fingers over his thigh holster, “There was just an attempt on his life. Not exactly the time to follow procedure.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to leave it to fate. Plus,” You can’t help but mutter, “We wouldn’t have been in this situation if you hadn’t messed up.”

The air thickens.

Keegan’s body stills, frozen like his bones had just been covered in frost and doused in frigid waters. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch with bated breath. But he notices the trap, it seems, because his neck never enters the snare laid out. The tension that had lived over you both like a dark cloud suddenly gained lighting, quick flashes of light over the sky.

“It’ll be too dark by then,” Is his only response – even if it’s clipped and growled out like a man ready to snap. He wanted to start an argument, you could tell with growing amusement. Keegan’s arms clench at his sides into shaking fists.

“Then it’s a good thing Ghosts can see in the dark,” You smirk, tilting your head to the side and beginning to reach for the rest of the chocolate bar resting in your pocket, “Isn’t that right? Make sure not to freak out and fire at the birds–!” 

The hand latches onto your shoulder before you can process the man had even moved; eyes widening to the size of plates as the pressure snaps your body to face forward. You let out a light yip as your feet drag. Despite the hold being firm, Keegan’s fingers never dig too tight.

Your eyes level on his, gazing deep into his boiling blues that shimmer the longer you stare. Had the middle always had flecks of green? Inside your chest, your heart pounds like a drum as, behind the balaclava, his jaw clenches. Keegan’s breath is like a breeze over your hair, rustling it. 

“Don’t…do that,” He says slowly. You just watch, wide-eyed, “Don’t speak on shit you have no idea about.” 

Whatever had made your lungs constrict fled in an instant.

“What?” Your lips twist, “You mind telling me how I’d have ‘no idea’ about an Op I was supposed to come back with a confirmation of death on?” 

You shove his arm off your shoulder and hate the way the chill of the air overtakes his warmth. 

Keegan’s shoulders set, “Kid, I’m ordering you to–”

“Cut the shit!” You yell, finger going to shove into his face and watching his head whip to it before wafting back to your visage. If possible his shoulders widen even farther, legs tense and straight. This was it – your confusion would go no further, you decided, “You’re going to explain all of this, Keegan–!” 

“Watch the damn volume–”

“Explain why I’m out here, why you messed up the mission–!”

“Listen to me. I need you to–”

“Why my fucking work was all wasted because you pulled the damn trigger and I’m reaping the consequences like an idiot with a guy who hates my guts–!”

“There was a sniper on the roof.”

Your rampage stops just as you were about to open your mouth once more. You stare at him at the bombshell, not even able to process it for a moment. Blinking, you realize you had moved Keegan backward so his back was pressed into the opposite wall; your body was pressed tightly up next to his. With every fast breath, you could feel your chest connect with his, and your finger was still against his peck, digging into the gear. 

Sucking in a quick breath, you gathered what little courage you had gained and looked up into his face with a fire lit in your blood. 

“...W-what?” Keegan’s body shifts and his arms go to grab your elbows. 

He doesn’t move you, just gives them a firm squeeze and explains as his heart pounds in his chest. Under the cloth, his mouth is slightly parted, and his pupils are wide.

“Federation sniper,” He utters, blinking as your face goes void of emotion, “I didn’t know if he’d seen you yet, but I…” 

The Ghost trails off as his thigh brushes yours, all of the pouches uncomfortable to feel digging into his skin, but worth it if he can make this right.

“Why…Why didn’t you tell me?” You whisper out, the skin of your eyebrows moving to press the tiny hairs closer together. This changed everything, “Why did you…?”

Keegan’s face is so close to yours that he can smell your shampoo through the dark fabric over his nose, suddenly suffocating on the comfort the covering usually brought him. Why was his heart racing in his chest? You were being irresponsible, yelling like that, and stubborn, hard-headed. 

But, damn, if anger wasn’t a good look on you. Your body heat was leaking into him, making him swallow heavily.

“Because…knew you’d blame yourself,” He said simply, staring at you deeply as your expression softens just as Keegan’s body does against the wall; you lean in deeper to his hold, “Just didn’t expect you to take it all so hard.”

“What? You just wanted me to let it go?” You utter, feeling and finally admitting how addicting it felt to be this close to him. For the life of you, you can’t find it in yourself to look away from him. What was happening?

“Again, didn’t know you’d take it so hard,” He raises a brow, grip falling from your elbows to lightly grab your hips. You force down a shiver, veins alight with molten lava at the strange contact. The Ghost continues, “Where’d you get the idea I hated you?”

Your throat swallows down saliva, not understanding the feeling in your gut. 

Shit, You think, Maybe that chocolate was bad – my head’s spinning…All I can smell is Keegan. But why am I not trying to leave?

Just a moment ago you were angry at him, but now everything made sense. A sniper, God, he could have just told you. It would have fixed a lot of things.

You mull over his question; do you answer it honestly? But for some odd reason, your mouth runs faster than your mind – it always had, and certainly always would. At least around Keegan, that is.

A breaking point had been reached, wherever you went from here was entirely up to the two of you.

“You said you didn’t want me,” The man’s breath stills, and you feel it just as you hear it; his scanning optics halt their study of your features, as if he had been seeing them for the first time in this light, “That I’d get people killed…why…why do you think I always work by myself nowadays?” Your nose begins to hurt, eyes falling to Keegan’s chest. You try to shove it down, but your hand over his vest shakes slightly. Where was this coming from? Why were you telling him this? The source of your animosity, how you two became, at least in your mind, enemies, “I just didn’t want to be a problem.”

Muttering out the last sentence, you swear Keegan’s chest hitches, heart kickstarting. 

“I…” He begins after a long moment of mutually avoiding eye contact. If you look into those beautifully cold blues you might break. 

But voices from below snap whatever the both of you would externally loathe but internally revel in; the longing in the two pairs of eyes is replaced by duty and unsaid words. The action was mechanical, and both parties rushed to the window, with your fingers grasping the rifle and Keegan grabbing the binoculars from his largest pouch. 

Like birds of prey, the two work in such sync that others would question if they even hated each other at all – and if they had seen the scene just moments prior the thoughts of denial would have been strengthened ten-fold. 

Did you hate Keegan? Or did you hate what he had done? Now really wasn’t the time to question it, but as the Ghost called out the distance and spotted Vidal Teo in pitch darkness, you can’t help but mutter, “Knew you could see in the dark, Kee,” And lined up the shot. 

Your finger pulls the trigger with little more than a second thought, and your shoulder catches the recoil with a grunt leaving your lips. 

“Direct hit. Target down,” A soft hand squeezes your shoulder as you watch the body drop from the scope. Grim satisfaction breeds in your heart. Your eye roves to Keegan’s face, who nods his head at you, “It was a good shot, Princess.”

Face heating, all you do is scoff, rolling your eyes, “Yeah, well…I suppose you called it.”

“Really, you can’t just take the compliment?“

“Do you want me to beat you over the head with this rifle?”

You both stand up and send coded glances to the other, and where the backhanded comments would usually be hostile, the small differences in presentation lean more toward teasing than anything. 

It was…nice. Foreign, but nice.

Chuckling, you toss the rifle around your back and listen to panicked voices echoing out from the warehouse. Keegan still stands near the window, with his back to it, while you inch to the door and itch at the back of your neck. He stares at you strangely, no doubt thinking about what you had confessed prior.

He had no idea you had heard the conversation with Elias. The Ghost’s chest constricts, remembering the words he had said in concern and anger. Had you really heard all of it? That would explain the sudden cold attitude that was mirrored back to him all those months ago.

Damn, Keegan blinks, and his head tilts as you stare back at him with a questioning expression. Your face was innocent with sweaty flesh filled with dust and grime. His fingers itched to wipe away the slash of black dirt from your forehead and, against his will, his stone blue softened to water in his eye sockets.

Your lips twitch at the rare expression. You had a lot to talk about when you both get back to base. 

“We should get going before–” 

Glass shatters, and a loud pop like an opening soda can startles you so bad you swore your heart stopped. Two things happen in that instance that will be ingrained into your head forever, carved like a scar in the fine tissue and tender to the touch.

One, his blood splattered your face, making you blink rapidly and reel back.

Two, the sound of Keegan’s hitting the floor – deadweight – and the loud gasp that exits his mouth, all the air expelled from his lungs not allowing him to even scream.

“Keegan!” You yell, rushing over and grabbing onto his shoulders, flipping him over with a grunt and panicked breath as you brush away the crimson from your eye sockets with a fast hand, “Shit!”

His body slams once more to the old wood, this time his back now on the floor. Blood pools down from a gunshot wound over his right abdomen, and your eyes land on it immediately, lungs struggling to suck down air.

Below you, Keegan lets out a wheezing sound, arm coming half-up to clench in the space above him, shaking violently. 

“Fucken’...” The man gasps, and his body jerks, trying to move despite the hole in his side. Your fingers rip open your medical pouch, eyes darting back to the window. You lightly stand up, frantic eyes darting and freezing. Spying a glint of light reflected from the moon, you quickly dip back to the floor.

Sniper scope. 

Rushing to grab Keegan under the shoulders, he yells out curses as you drag him to the side and out of the line of sight of the window. Tearing out a rag and a roll of gauze from your stash, you look at his face as you shove the cloth against the leaking wound, bunching the fabric and working it into the crater. 

Keegan snarls, head going back to slam to the floor as his eyes flutter. Those blues of his were wide and whizzing back and forth in a primal display, and behind the balaclava, you could see his throat bob with strangled, open-mouthed, breaths. Fuck, fuck, fuck…!

“Hey!” You shout, bringing up one hand and lightly slapping his cheek as you lean your body weight into his side. Your heart was going too fast, it was going to break out of your chest if you didn’t get a grip. But…Keegan’s blood was staining your hands; leaking down your face to drip from your chin. And the fact remained that the Federation soldiers now knew your position and were rushing to the dilapidated lodge. You needed to get him out of here, “Keep your damn eyes open – the only person who gets to kill you is me!”

“What…what the fuck, Princess?”

“You heard me!” Your body was shaking just as much as Keegans as you gnash your teeth together, “‘Doesn’t listen,’ my ass, your ears work less than mine do.” 

You’re panicking; using born and breed sarcasm and clipped words to ease you back into focus.

You had to move him – had to get him out of here. But would you be able to? He was big; far larger than you and weighed twice as much in muscle alone, not to mention the gear... Your mind did the math even as you pleaded with it not to. 

He would have to help you on his own if this was going to work. And that meant keeping him conscious.

Keegan lets out a loud cough, and your fingers itch to move his face-covering so he can breathe better. But you unravel the gauze instead, going to shift his body to wrap it around the rag – holding it in place. 

“Gotta’ move,” He snarls at you, trying to keep the pain at bay as it sweeps over him like waves of water, in and out, in and out.

“Working on it.” 

Right as you tie off a tight knot on the already bloody wrappings, the Ghost tries to get up, an arm turning to slam to the floor behind him and vibrate as he forces his weight on it. Knowing that was a bad idea but not having another choice, you loop one of his arms over your shoulders and grunt. Bearing the brunt of his weight you hold your breath and angle your feet; shoving with all of your strength and gasping out. 

“What the hell do you eat, man? Rocks?” As you grip with your free hand at his limp wrist, you take a quick glance at Keegan when you don’t hear a response. When he’s up, one of your hands goes to wrap around his waist. 

The man’s eyes were fluttering fast, pupils retracted in pain. The blood leaking from him stains your body as you hike his form closer to you, feeling the warmth of the flesh enter your skin like a candle’s flame. 

“Keegan!” You call, shaking his body. The man lets out a low groan, sharp eyes snapping to yours. You're taken aback when you see them immediately soften as they land on your panic-laced form, “You’ve gotta help me, okay?”

Speaking slowly, you hope he listens as he blinks at the blood on your face, eyebrows tensing.

“Copy,” He mutters and sends about the closest he can to a stiff nod your way. 

Immediately all weight is taken from your hold and he stumbles to stand up straight, a hand snapping to his side as his feet drag.

“Not all of it! Idiot!” Growling, you rip him back to you, hissing in disapproval as he lets out a deep curse; nearly falling into you. Forcing him forward, you go as fast as you’re able to the entrance door and already a sheen of exertion is falling over your face. How the hell is he so heavy?

“Fuckin’ confusing, Kid…Just tell me what you– what you want, I’m bleeding out here,” Keegan barks, annoyance falling from him onto you. Was it really that impossible for the two of you to get along that you were fighting while he was seeping crimson all over you? You were getting along just a second ago.

“You’re impossible, Keegan Russ,” You lock onto him in the corner of your eye as you practically drag him to the door, shoving it open with your shoulder. Your fingers dig into his side and his wrist, trying not to get distracted by the strong muscle you feel writhing under your touch. Without meaning to, your grip had gravitated under his shirt, touching bare skin littered with scars and burns – hot and pulsing with life.

Your grip goes deeper, nails creating crescent moons in his flesh as you, somehow, get him down the stairs without falling flat on your face.

Did he just shiver?

“Evac point,” Muttering to yourself, you move faster, heart beating as shouts echo out over the hills, “Shit.”

“Focus,” Keegan utters to your side, “Don’t think about it. What…what’ll happen will happen.”

“Bullshit,” You growl and glance back to see the trail of blood over the ground. Shaking your head you stumble into the treeline, mouth open to help you suck down more air into your lungs, “If you expect me to believe that, you’re a fool.”

“..Maybe,” He coughs, and you have to pause for a moment and look in concern as dark phlegm splatters to the ground. No, you think, no not yet. He can’t do this to you, “Maybe I have been.”

“What,” You attempt a wet chuckle, not liking the conversation but if it kept him awake you would entertain it, “It only took you taking a shot to the side to realize that? There’s no hope for you, Kee.”

“Like when you call me that,” Lips thinning, you work your legs faster, dodging a rock and shimmying past a tree, “Sounds nice.” 

Your face heats at the shock-induced confession, breath inhaled in a sharp breath. 

You look at him, only to find his eyes already locked on your visage. The unrelenting optics ripped you open with how lucid they looked, even if his mouth seemed to have lost its filter. Taking it as a good sign, you tear your head back to the front, biting into your lips as your legs shake.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” You whisper, clearing your throat as Keegan lets out a small strangled sound from the back of his mouth as you stumble over a log on the ground, “But keep talking to me, yeah?”

“I don’t hate you,” He confessed with a soft voice, “...Was jus’ worried you would hurt yourself. Too hard-headed for your own good.”

“Could say the same thing about you,” Your lungs are burning, but you remind yourself it’s not even half as much pain as Keegan is going through. He carries himself so well, even holding some of his own weight to help you. How was he even still standing? If you had gotten shot like that, you’d be screaming your head off.

He’s a Ghost, You remind yourself, They defy all laws of nature and common sense.

“I’m sorry, Kid,” That makes you stop, body halting halfway through a step as your face blanks, panting out air and eyes popping out at the weak words, “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

Swallowing down saliva into your dry throat, your mind tells you to keep moving. The meeting in Elias’s office…he was…he was apologizing to you? Stuttering only a moment, you resume your break-neck journey with a burning face and jumping heart. 

“Apology not accepted,” You growl, sending a sharp glance his way. Keegan’s eyes widen in surprise – but they look slightly buggy, “When we get back to the Fort, you’re saying it again…When you’re not getting me all covered in your fluids.”

The chuckle he lets out startles you, but you resist the urge to bring him even closer to your form and bask in his heat. He was…nice to feel against you, you admitted. Strong. Comforting in a rabid dog sort of way.

“Yeah, but you’d like…like that wouldn’t you, Princess?”

…Did he just..? When your jaw drops in shock, he lets out another gasping chuckle that divulges into a coughing fit. Getting your bearing back, you roll your eyes above the embarrassment in your blood even as your lower body pulses. Your legs shuffle as your breath goes thin.

“Let’s keep the dirty jokes under wraps, too, okay?... Who knew blood loss made you into a fucking comedian? Mr. Stand-Up over here.”

“Hm,” Keegan grunts, wheezing in a breath. You watch a dribble of blood fall from the side of his mouth with a grim face, mind running. 

He can’t die, You shake with nerves and adrenaline, I won’t let him. 

There was a brimming affection for the man you had been forcing down like a mouthful of food, and his drunk honestly right now was throwing you for a loop.

“I’ll get you to the Evac point, Keegan, I promise,” The shouts were getting closer, and the Ghost’s eyes were falling closed once more. 

You wanted to see his face – make him stare at you.

“Know you will,” His eyes clenched closed and you felt his weight fall more over you. Groaning breathily, you take it and continue onward with little concern for how your nerves tingle, “Y’know,” The next words he says are so muffled you barely hear them, but when your brain processes the gravel and sifts through the depth of it, you feel tears wet the sides of your vision, “I think I a-actually like you, Kid.”

Keegan goes slack, and the sounds of shouting grow ever closer. It takes everything in you not to scream out.

—

He wakes up with a buzzing in his ears and a bright light assaulting his eyes. It takes Keegan a good while to fully open his eyelids, flinching as the bulbs set into the ceiling seem to only get more violent as his senses come back to him. 

A groan exits his lips, and the scent of bleach and sterile air makes his head rove on the hard pillow under it.

“Well,” A masculine voice results in Keegan jolting up like he was hit with an electrical current, body spasming at him to stay still but not able to stop the ingrained instincts in his head, “Took you long enough. Ajax was just about losing his mind for one of you two to wake up. Had to order him to go run laps.”

“Merrick,” Keegan clenches his hands in pain, but his eyes fall to the man sitting in one of the visitor chairs at the door. The Medical Ward's familiar walls soon entered his sight, and ignoring the flair of agony in his bandaged side, the dark-haired man brought a hand to his face. Keegan takes a deep breath and flinches, “Explain.”

“What happened,” Standing, the stocky man cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders before glancing down to his side. Merrick points over Keegan's shoulder and nods his head, “Is that the girl dragged your limp ass all the way to the Evac point with a bullet wound in ‘er shoulder. Took out a few soldiers as well – one helluva hot exit.”

Sneaking a peak back, Keegan was stunned to find a matching hospital bed not a few feet from his own, a rack for a curtain drawn back to allow a view of a woman asleep; her right arm was in a sling and heavily bandaged, the covers pulled back to her midsection. You. His eyes stay locked on your form, momentarily forgetting the pulling of sutures in his side. 

You had…gotten shot. Protecting him.

“How bad,” His lips move faster than his head, a trait he was beginning to pick up and associate with only you.

“You needed to go into surgery–”

“Not me,” Keegan growled, itching at the gown that had been put on him. His eyes never left you, the peaceful expression on your face he had never seen before leaving a warm feeling in his gut. With a sigh, he mutters out with a tone far softer than it had been before, “Her.”

Merrick smirks, watching the rise and fall of your chest and seeing Keegan doing the same, just far more closely. 

“Prescribed pain meds and on leave for two months. It was a clean shot – lucky for her.”

Keegan nods his head stiffly, moving the pillows up on the elevated mattress and leaning back with a throaty groan. 

“I’ll go tell Elias you’re awake,” Merrick swiftly turns and opens the door, but pauses in the opening. The other man watches closely with a frown. Without turning around, Thomas utters, “Kid was pretty shook up when you wouldn’t come ‘round. You should fix that.”

The Ghost disappears and closes the door behind him. 

Blinking at the wooden barrier, Keegan wastes no time in pushing back the covers of his bed and pressing his feet to the floor; hissing at the chill but only running a hand through his hair in retaliation. His dark eyes watched you as he gritted his teeth at the strain in his side, the faint ripping of stitches. 

The pain didn’t bother him, didn’t sway his actions. His socked feet move over the floor to stand above you. He breathes slowly, sucking down cool air as he pauses for a minute or two.

“You’re something else, Kid,” Keegan whispers, cold eyes narrowing as his thumb goes to swipe away the dirt smudge on your forehead with delicate movements. He didn’t want to wake you. 

The mirror across the room shows a beast of a man carefully cleaning the face of a woman who murmurs to herself, shifting closer to the hold with a small sigh. Keegan, whose lips quirk in a small smile that pulls at scars and black, irreversible, face paint, finds the warmth in his blood addicting. His heart slowly speeds up, and although crimson was staining his bandages, he couldn’t find it in him to go back to bed. 

“If you keep doing that,” Your voice snaps him out of his stupor, and his hand is snatched back to his side in an instant; feet shoulder length apart and tense, “I just might die on you.”

The light above you plays in your eyes, bouncing off the color and reflecting it directly into Keegan’s iris as the skin of your eyelids peel back. You blink up at him, vision coming back into focus as you stretch your legs out under the covers. 

Sending a small smile to his blank face, you chuckle, “What?” You groan, “I was being sarcastic.”

A smirk is all you get, a slight twitching at the side of his lips at the fatigue in your tone.

“How long?” Keegan asks, raising a dark brow. Knowing what he’s asking, you scoff, face bright.

“Only about five minutes. I caught the end of Merricks conversation,” You reply.

“Hm.”

“Don’t give me that look – I’m in the room, what do you want me to do…not listen? Tch,” Your hand presses into the mattress, shoving you up. 

A hand splays over your back immediately to help. 

Goosebumps litter your arms as Keegan’s grip lightly digs into your gown, assisting you where your other arm can’t. Sparing him a glance, you watch with heat on your ears and neck as his attention remains solely fixated on you. Blue breaks open your skin and infects you with its chill. Liking the feel of it, you let it in and embrace it. 

When you’re sitting up, silence ensues, with Keegan’s eyes studying your body as you do the same. His hand remained on your back. 

Does he remember what he said? You wonder, locking on the thick wrappings under the man’s gown with a frown, Or was he too out of it?

“Feelin’ alright, Princess?” Your eyebrows raise as he tilts his head.

“I should be asking you that.”

“We both got shot,” Keegan shoots back, and the black around his eyes creases as he deadpans at you.

“You passed out – I didn’t. Don’t blame me because you decided to take a nap, Big Guy.”

“So, you’re just full of nicknames now, are you?” 

“Hm,” You smirk, voice low and teasing, “Perhaps…Raccoon Eyes.”

Keegan scoffs, turning his head away in exasperation. You were both the same people from hours ago, but something felt different – the air was lighter, bordering on sacred. Looking at each other with hesitant vulnerability, hearts yearning but not quite certain where to begin. So many jagged pieces of glass to buffer out, smooth along the edges, and pray that they became mosaics of brightly colored perfection that glittered in the sunlight. But you could still slice your fingers open, despite the years of practice and knowledge of that sacred art, feel the blood splatter the table and leak into the fine lines of your palm.

But, perhaps, it was time to try. 

“I guess I owe you one,” You admit awkwardly, suddenly avoiding eye contact and feeling sheepish. This was new to you, “You saved me from a sniper but I couldn’t see the one behind you.”

“You owe me twice, then,” When you send him a scalding look, he puffs out a breath to show it was a joke and continues as you roll your eyes and smile softly, “..but, uh,” Keegan clears his throat, “Don’t…worry about it, Kid,” Your eyes snap to his side profile, blinking in shock as his eyes rove the room, watching the cracks in the floors as you gape at him. Why…why did he sound like that? Like the gravel in his words had smoothed over and was suddenly a paved road with moss along the edges; gentle to the touch. And why did your heart skip a beat at it, “Forget about it.” 

“...What?” Your voice is small, genuine confusion whispered out as you watch the muscles in his face move. Keegan’s jaw was clenched, his nose scrunching as he rolled it and fixed his stance. It was adorable the way he was trying not to face you.

His head turns to his gear that Merrick had placed on the large table across the room. You watch him lightly limp to it, mind still trying to think through what was going on. His shredded hand goes to the back pocket of his folded cargo pants, and your ears twitch at a crinkling nose. The Ghost pulls out an empty chocolate wrapper and you feel your heart stop all together when he holds it aloft. He shuffles back over. 

“It was alright, little stale, but not bad,” Those steel blue eyes slide to yours, and your face heats; throat tightens. Since when has your pulse rampaged like that outside of a gun battle? Keegan’s lips quirk into a slow smirk at your expression, “Not bad at all. I’m sorry that I ate it all.”

You have to look away before you pass out, all confidence now gone and dignity stomped on when you realized that you liked when he looked at you with those eyes of his. Your hand clenches over the covers, finding that double meaning with brimming affection.

Oh, you just hated him…but your breath still gets stolen all the same.

“Yeah, well,” Your hand goes to scratch at the back of your neck to ground yourself, “Don’t get used to it, Kee. That bar was worth like fifty bucks if we’d have just sold it.”

You decide his laugh is better than any old chocolate bar, and that you wanted to taste it on your tongue until the very sun died out. Until your bones were bleach white from age.

There was no doubt he remembered what he had told you as you dragged him along, scared and wishing he would stay awake; that was simply judging by the sparkle in his pupil and the way he was facing you now. 

Smirking, you raise a brow and grab the man by the collar of his gown. 

Ah, what the hell. Better to start strong.

When you smash his lips to yours, you decide right then and there when Keegan melts into you, his hand going to grip the back of his head, that maybe being enemies wasn’t so bad at all.

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

Mr Gorgeous

pairing: Lee Minho x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, crack, tutor Lee know, non-idol!au, college au, best friend Hyunjin, computer nerd Lee know

summary: As a chemical engineer with the biggest aversion to computer science it was nothing short of hell to try and pass the one elective you were forced to take. Things do change for the better when your friend suggests you get tutored by smart and hot Lee Minho. Maybe you'd do a lot more than just pass the subject... 

wordcount: 6.3k

a/n: This one is based on the unhinged but cute ideas my friend gives, hopefully, I did justice to that, and to Minho.

masterlist

I have extended this universe (but can be read as oneshot ) with the Hyunjin fic Dancing with our Hands Tied

Regret.

That’s the primary emotion you feel right now. Sitting with your hands tugging at your hair in the corner of the computer science lab as you stare at the big blank screen… yet again.

Another ping and you look up to see yet another failure message popping on the screen of your laptop. It wasn’t brand new, or of high value, but this laptop was your lifeline. Not only did it hold all three years' worth of your undergrad life but it also holds the precious drafts of your latest hyper fixation- fanfics based on the forced marriage trope.

The downfall of the laptop itself wasn’t your primary concern now, it was the choices you made that led here. Well, it wasn’t exactly a choice. The course selection system of your uni might say “flexible” but it was anything but. Your mind replays a flashback from two months ago when you were seated in your dorm bed, hands tugging your hair like now, as you stare at the monstrosity that was the computer science elective you were forced to choose for the sake of credits.

Leading you right back to regret.

Just as you're about to break your laptop in a fit of pure frustration you feel a hand on your shoulder. Whipping your head back, with five retorts at the tip of your tongue (but ones that’ll never be said), you find yourself facing one of your closest friends. His feline eyes shone with kindness and his long blonde hair with fringes framing his spectacular face and the crisp white shirt that looks very out of place amongst his rarely-showered peers.

Hyunjin. The infamous dance team captain and the most wanted dude on campus, who somehow ended up as your roommate's dance partner back in freshman year and is now a big part of your gang. He was the reason for whatever little popularity you had on campus.

“Are you alright?”

“Hi yeah, I-I’m fine… I guess…” you sigh, giving up on your hair and point to the screen. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and my laptop just gave up on me.”

He gives you a sad smile, not one of pity and you’re grateful for it. “Ahh, the computers have defeated our great y/n I see...” His tone is slightly lighter this time when he speaks. You nod furiously as he settles down on an empty chair next to you. His hand has moved from your shoulder to fidgeting with the armrests.

“Yeah I absolutely hate- no loathe computers. I mean, I fought with my parents to do a chemical engineering degree just because I hate computers for god's sake. All that only to end up here in this damn course and I’ve managed to kill my laptop in the process of installing virtual machines. Actually why the hell do we even need those virtual machines? Isn’t everything that these machines produce essentially virtual… if you do need another device, just get one. Why do you computer science idiots go through all this hassle? I don’t-“, you pause mid-rant to see that he’s got an amused expression and the corners of his lips are lifted up.

“Ugh, please. Don’t laugh at my distress, you cruel man.” You whine and dramatically put your head on the desk in defeat.

"Aye y/n it's okay... I mean it will be..." Hyunjin tries to comfort but you just grunt in response and dig your head deeper into your arms on the desk.

You hear him sigh and shift closer to you.

"Alright, I'll tell you what... class is over now so we will give up for now and go have something to eat and replenish your brain. Then maybe I can tutor you, I am also in the class and I do understand this. Is that ok?"

You look up to see Hyunjin sitting beside you, lips pressed into a thin smile, eyes kind and empathetic. This version of him rarely comes out except with his few friends and you were usually grateful for that. But today you had no brain cells left to feel grateful.

"Yeah, sure! Do you plan on doing that before or during your morning dance practices or evening practice?" Your tone comes out sharp and sarcastic, which catches Hyunjin off guard.

You were almost always sarcastic but it was never more than a harmful joke and you never really lost your temple. In fact, you were very particular about staying silent unless you have something positive or funny to contribute to the conversation.

Hyunjin recovers fast from the shock, "Hey I was just offering... I was being nice. Don't bite my head off!"

You feel apologetic immediately and sigh. "Yeah sorry dude, I guess I need to eat. Are you still up to get lunch together?" You ask with a small smile.

"Yup!" He immediately agrees with a big grin and you begin packing your things.

"Hey, you sure one of your little fangirls and fanboys won't die of jealousy if they see just the two of us having lunch together?" You joke as you both head to the cafeteria.

He just rolls his eyes and both of you laugh it off.

Even though you knew about Hyunjin's popularity, it still feels weird for you to sit and watch almost the entire cafeteria stare in your direction. Rather in his direction. Trying your best to ignore it you continue eating your sales as Hyunjin talks about the latest gossip from the dance team.

Just as he was about to reach the juicy part, Hyunjin sees someone on the other end of the cafe and asks them to join. You whip your head around to see the source of your latest annoyance, ready to hate them in your head, only to find the most gorgeous man you had ever seen walk towards your table.

You've had one too many celebrity crushes in your day but you weren't usually the type to simp for a dude in real life- especially one from your university. Yet you find yourself unable to take your eyes off this guy. He's wearing a simple black T-shirt and a pair of joggers. His headphones are around his neck, and a black backpack hanging on his left shoulder. You watch his shirt cling to his shoulders and the way he keeps his eyes down as he walks. You keep watching as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up just enough for it to look fluffy and good.

Taylor Swift definitely wrote Gorgeous for this man.

As he nears the table you finally gather all your self-control and turn back to your lunch. You chew on the food slowly and keep playing with the contents in your bowl, painfully aware of every step he takes toward the table.

"Hey Lino!" You hear Hyunjin exclaim as he gets up to hug the other guy.

"Hi Hyunjin." says the other guy- who apparently has a deep, yet soft voice that reminds you of honey melting.

You internally cringe at the weird tingly feeling this guy is making you feel.

You try to block out the conversation the two guys make, desperately hoping you wouldn't have to interact with Mr Gorgeous.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce you both. This is my friend y/n."

You look up at the mention of your name to find Hyunjin and him looking right at you. You smile, hoping the weird thoughts don't translate on your face.

"And y/n, this is Lee Minho. My classmate and dance teammate." Hyunjin says with a fond smile.

"Hey, y/n. Nice to finally meet you," says Mr Gorgeous in his honey-dripping voice as he reaches his hand out to you. You are frozen for a second but recover quickly to take his hands and shake them as you nod. You watch as he immediately takes his hand after a second of contact and clears his throat.

"Nice to meet you too Minho." you finally manage after the handshake that only made the butterflies worse. You pray silently that you don't ever have to speak to Minho again, a crush was not good for your health. Especially not a crush on your friend's very hot dance teammate.

Thankfully Minho almost immediately leaves, stating he has a class to attend and Hyunjin and you bid your byes and return to your lunches.

After a moment's silence, Hyunjin speaks again, "So what do you think about Minho?"

You cough as a lettuce piece gets stuck in your throat at his question and chug half a glass of water.

"Wha- what about him?" You ask in your most normal voice possible.

"I don't know... you tell me." Hyunjin says eyeing you cautiously.

"He's fine I guess." He scoffs. "He's way more than fine and we both know it." He says with a smirk.

"You're just a simp for the mysterious hot dudes who will never go for you."

"Ouch. But yeah. Plus all I can do is simp... he's not really into guys." Hyunjin says with a dramatic frown making you shake your head at his antics.

You were almost relieved when Hyunjin admitted to simping for Minho because then you would shut down the crush because you are a good friend. Every plan to squish this growing crush is backfiring on you now.

As you both finish your lunch and decide to go separate ways, Hyunjin stops in his tracks outside the cafeteria with a bright smile on his face. The face that usually means trouble for anyone involved- which is you currently.

"Oh my god! Y/n I just had the best idea." He practically squeals and you roll your eyes at him.

"I don't believe it will be good but you're gonna say it anyway so spill."

"Well you need a tutor to pass the computer course... and Minho is a top-of-the-class student who passed that subject a semester ago. What if he tutored you?"

Hyunjin looks like he hit the jackpot and your jaw hangs on the floor. Gulping you begin to explain why his idea won't work just as the door opens and out comes the man of the hour himself- Minho.

Hyunjin looks at Minho and his smile grows even wider.

"Lino I was just going to call you. I need a small favour from you."

Minho looks suspiciously between an excited Hyunjin and a horrified you. "Yeah, tell me..."

Hyunjin proceeds to explain the ordeal in great painful detail. He paints a sad picture of you from fighting with your parents about your major to your whining in the lab earlier. All while you plan the detailed and gruesome murder of Hwang Hyunjin in your head.

Even though you are too embarrassed to see Minho's face, curiosity gets the better of you. He seems to be trying his best to follow Hyunjin's rant. His eyebrows perked up and eyes shifted between the two of you. His nose scrunched as he nods continuously.

"So what do you think of my genius idea huh?" Hyunjin asks Minho as he smiles widely at you both.

"Ermm... ", Minho looks between you and Hyunjin looking positively confused. "I think I can do it yeah." He says in his honey-melting crush-heightening voice and nods at you.

All you can do is force a hopefully normal smile on your face as Hyunjin celebrates his 'victory'. You shoot Minho an apologetic look as Hyunjin forces you both to exchange numbers and discuss the tutoring schedule- every Monday evening at the library.

"See you on Monday y/n." He says with a soft smile as he hoists his bag up higher on his shoulder and walks away after saying his byes to Hyunjin.

There is no death for the crush now.

————————————

The Monday could not have come slower. Although it was only three days from meeting Minho it felt like the longest days of your life. To make matters worst, Hyunjin and Yeji, your roommate, could not stop talking about Minho.

Turns out he didn’t spurt out of nowhere since Thursday, he was fondly called Lino by the dance team. You’d previously heard Hyunjin and Yeji talk for hours together about the “brilliant” dancer that “Lino” was. But you’d also heard Yeji mock Hyunjin for constantly getting bullied by him. The stories that you had always laughed your heart out to because mostly Hyunjin did deserve it. But now those stories do nothing but increase your anxiety as you walk slowly towards the campus library to meet your gorgeous dancer-nerd tutor.

What if he bullies you too? Or worse what if you embarrass yourself in front of Mr Gorgeous!

You groan as you step into the library, searching along rows of students absorbed in their own world before spotting him. He was wearing another plain black shirt, hair messed up in sweeps framing the side of his face, and a thin framed glass perched on his face. His little nose scrunched up as he was concentrating on his laptop, the headphones on his head.

Why does this man make you weak over the bare minimum!

“Hey Minho”, you greet as you reach the table he’s sat at, settling down across the table from him.

He looks up removing his headphones and smiles at you, nodding in acknowledgment.

Both of you walk around on eggshells for the first few minutes, him understanding how much knowledge you have in the subject- he almost looks disappointed on hearing the answer be ‘nothing’. Eventually, you both developed a plan and he began explaining from the basics. Although you had a very hard time concentrating initially, especially when his eyes got all dark and focused, as he bit his lip whenever you messed up and explained in that calm soothing voice of his. But eventually, you started finding it easier to learn when he taught you in parts, giving examples and helping you take notes.

The hour passed by much too quickly for your liking but a part of you was relieved to be out of his strong gaze. He had given you some pointers and tasks to do over the week to help speed the process to pass the finals approaching in two months.

The following weeks go smoothly, Mondays becoming your favourite and most exciting day of the week- adulting really was sad. You saw Minho relaxing with every session, the third session he even started teasing you about your mistakes. He would let out a little “hehe”, smile brightly as his eyes lit up and shake his head as he says, “No that’s not how you run this. It’s a different coding language so the rules change.”

He never raised his voice or lost his cool. While you were constantly groaning or huffing in irritation at the irrational rules of computer science. You constantly explained to him that you weren’t an entire novice to coding but the concepts of operating systems and databases simply did not make sense. He would constantly assure you that this was hard for computer science majors and that you had not much to worry about. Eventually, the one-hour sessions became longer as you both sit back and talk about random topics during "breaks". He even suggested an additional session to "help speed the process", which made your stomach drop in an odd way (not because your crush kept exponentially growing in the last six weeks).

That’s how you find yourself in the library on a Thursday afternoon, coming to the library hours prior to your session with Minho. Trying your best to understand the concept you both were supposed to go over so that you didn’t look too dumb and also because your finals is approaching in two weeks. You used to be the topper in school, and you even managed to stay in the top 10 in your department but none of that worked here. It definitely didn’t help to learn that Minho was an extremely talented all-rounder.

In the last six weeks, you might’ve slipped into a couple or almost all of the dance team’s practice sessions pretending to care about Hyunjin and Yeji (both of whom were surprised to find you there for the first time in three years).

Minho danced as gracefully as a swan while emitting the most powerful aura on stage. You had seen the dance team’s performances before to support your friends but you hadn’t really noticed anyone except those two till now. But now you could not take your eyes off Minho even when you heard the team and other audiences praise how amazing Hyunjin and Yeji were.

You shake your head to prevent yourself from getting distracted by Minho’s tantalising steps from the previous day’s rehearsal. All of this did nothing but feed the monster of a crush you were fostering inside. She was so strong now that calling it a crush felt wrong. You were down bad. But that is a problem for another time, you needed to learn this concept before Minho gets there in half an hour.

You’re not sure how long it has been since you started hyper focusing on the topic but you are brought out of your reverie by Minho’s rich voice.

“Hey y/n.” He sounds cheerful and there’s a cute smile on his face which makes the monster butterflies immediately rise up in your stomach.

“Hello.” You smile back as he settles in the seat next to you. This was another suggestion from Minho since the third week to "help correct your mistakes better", little did he know it only made you more prone to mistakes with him so close to you. You noticed that he was wearing his white hoodie and grey joggers- which you know now is his dance practice attire, and his hair is all tousled and messy. His cheeks are flushed from the practice and he is slightly out of breath as he takes his laptop out and settles down.

“You’ve already started this topic huh. Good to see you working so hard. ” He says with a genuine smile nodding towards your laptop. You smile coyly, stomach doing a little flip at the compliment (it never gets old).

“Ah, nothing like that. Just had time to kill. Thought I’d try to catch up so that I’m not entirely clueless for today.” He nods and looks at you for a second longer than usual. Just as you think he’s going to turn to his laptop and start the session he leans towards you and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ears. Time comes to a standstill as you process what just happened. When you recover from the tingle his touch had left on your cheek and behind your ear, you realise that he has gone to his work.

“Let’s start?” He enquired looking innocent and all you can do is nod. Your heart is still beating fast as you try your best to follow everything Minho is saying. Every time you got your heart to calm down he would turn to look at you from behind his glasses, a serious expression on his face which was way too close to yours for your brain to work.

When you start working on the code he leans between you and your laptop to point at the code on the farthest end of the screen from him. His face is extremely close to yours as you do everything to remain normal- on the outside.

Eventually, the session comes to an end and you slump back in your chair sighing as you catch your breath and look at Minho. He is on his phone smiling every now and then and your hearts drops as anxiety clouds your head. Not that you had any intentions of taking any action about your crush… but still the heart wants what it wants. He turns to you as he puts his phone down and removes his glasses.

“How come you had free time today, before our session? I thought you had a full schedule on Thursdays?” He enquires and pushes his smooth fluffy hair out of his face.

You have two thoughts in your brain at this point- a) why did he have to be that gorgeous, and b) did he remember when you told him about your schedule the first time you both met.

You straighten up as you answer. “Erm… yeah no my lab got cancelled. Prof has been sick for a week now so I was free.”

“Is that why you seem to be having a lot of free time lately?” His question comes out more as a comment as he gives you a smirk.

“Uh what do you mean?”

He runs his hand through his hair again.

“Nothing just been seeing you around during practice a lot recently… that’s why.” He almost looks shy as he says it, but the smirk stays put on his face.

You feels your cheeks and neck heat up and do your best to not look like a deer caught in headlights.

You let out a small fake laugh. “Ah, that… I was just supporting Hyunjin. And Yeji too, she’s my roommate you know?” You ask hoping he’d shift the topic to them instead.

He leans back on the side of his chair eyeing you with the smirk still in its place. “Yeah I know. I’ve known for three years.” Your eyes widen naturally at this new information. “Which is why I was surprised to see you there now after all these years. You don’t usually come to practice sessions.” He says calmly.

There are too many questions in your head but you choose to ignore anything that gives you even a sliver of hope. You straighten more hoping the stature makes you look at least slightly intimidating. Which, judging by the even bigger smirk on Minho’s face didn’t work.

“I- I came because Yeji and Hyunjin were nervous about their solos.”

His expression is straight-up cocky. “Oh is that why you were staring at me the whole time?”

His words might’ve affected you so much that you were embarrassed but you weren’t going to feed into his ego.

“Seems like you need a new prescription for your eyes.” You pick up your things, start to walk away from the table and pause to give him a sarcastic smile.

"Also seems like you were the one who was seeing me instead of focusing on your practice."

You walk away hoping to save some face before you feel his hold on your wrist. His hands are rough and he holds you just tight enough to stop you but not hurt you.

“Y/n I was just teasing… sorry if I crossed a line.” He sounds so soft and timid that you whip your head around to see him standing behind you with big eyes and a small pout. You sigh and smile at him.

“I know… I was too. Don’t worry abt it, Mr Tutor.” You try to lighten the mood by lightly tapping his shoulder and see him shudder slightly.

“I do like seeing you in practices.” He admits in a low voice, a shy smile on his face.

You are just a melted goo of a human on the inside. The smile on your face comes naturally but for once, you don’t feel the need to hide it. Minho made you lose your guard way too much but even then today was way out of either of your usual zones. For the rest of the night, you are a mess of nerves and excitement. Yeji doesn’t question it anymore.

Two days later, you arrive at the auditorium of your uni with the two other friends of your gang- Jeongin and Yuna. As you three settle down in one of the middle rows, for which you almost fought off a junior, you are giddy with excitement to see Minho perform. And Hyunjin and Yeji of course.

You had tried to go to the dress rehearsal the previous day, catching the last few minutes of the performance and it was safe to say that the performance was going to be a hit. This time you didn’t try to sneak around, instead you waited after rehearsal and walked back with Minho, Hyunjin and Yeji. The vibe between Minho and you had shifted since that evening, he had texted you memes twice the next day and the previous evening, you both had walked close enough for your shoulders to brush while laughing about baseless things. If Hyunjin and Yeji noticed, they didn’t say anything and even gave the two of you some space by racing each other. For all the grace they both had on stage, they were complete idiots.

Your heart starts beating faster as the performance begins and you watch in a daze the whole time. All of them killed it from start to end. You were almost emotional watching Yeji and Hyunjin shine bright during their solos. Minho was on fire throughout the whole performance and you thought you dreamt of him looking at you during his solo- which was practically too hot for you to physically handle.

Once the performance is over, Jeongin, Yuna and you walk over to the green room to meet your amazing friends. You run over to congratulate your friends and even manage a small "nice performance" for the other members. The entire green room is filled with members of the dance team and their friends, all shouting and laughing. Amongst the chaos and happiness in your friend group, you can't help but look around for Minho. Catching your eye Hyunjin tugs at your shoulder signalling you to lean in as he says, "Go to the backside of the auditorium."

You look at him confused for a second before he gives a pointed side-eye that says "Don't act like you don't understand". You give a shy smile thanking him and inform Yeji that you'll be back and quietly slip out through the back door of the auditorium as Hyunjin told you to. Once you close the door behind you, a cool gush of wind makes you rub your shoulders for warmth as the green room's ruckus dies into the evening's silence. You look around for him and see a silhouette standing at the right edge leaning on the railing and looking out at the campus gardens.

Taking a deep breath you slowly approach him. As if sensing your presence, he whips his head around.

"Y/N." He says softly and you walk closer to see his left hand stretched out. You freeze in your spot, five steps away from him, gaping at the hand. He sees your confusion, smiles, walks toward you, and grabs your right hand. You stand there watching him and feel your feet move on their own as he helps you stand beside him facing the gardens, hands still interlaced. Your brain seems to short-circuit as you just stand there, still as a statue, hyperaware of his touch and the tingles it left in your body.

After what feels like a minute or an eternity, you are no longer aware of worldly concepts like time, he clears his throat and you see him angle his body toward you from the corner of your eyes. This brings you back to reality and you turn your face toward him and see how gorgeous he looks under the moonlight, hair all messed up, his shirt still clinging from the sweat due to the performance and lips spread into a soft smile.

"Hi." He says with an expectant smile on his face.

"Hey," you hear your own voice sound distant and breathless. It would be embarrassing how weak you were from this boy if you didn't know that he deserved all the love and attention in the world.

"So... you really didn't want to see me perform I guess." His tone is playful and there's a smirk on his face.

"Wha- What no... I did want to see you perform."

"Then you just didn't like it I guess. Tsk tsk." He mockingly shakes his side to side as the girn grows wider on his face. Your face heats up in embarrassment and you thank god that the only light around the place is hitting on his face and not yours.

"I never said that." You say in a low shy voice (again, borderline embarrassing).

"You didn't say anything good about the performance either. At least to me." He pauses and looks at you before turning to the garden again, "I heard you throwing compliments around like confetti inside,, to your friends."

You immediately feel your stomach drop in guilt and very little excitement (The Minho wanted your validation!!).

"Oh. Oh no, I- I didn't mean to... It's just," you take a small breath as he turns to face you again with an eager expression, "I can't really think right now with you holding my hand and looking all gorgeous and hot, and I keep thinking back to your moves on stage which were straight up sinful Minho." The words come out before you can process it and your eyes widen as you realise what you said and see that Minho's smirk has grown exponentially smug before he breaks into soft laughter.

You silently groan putting your head down on the railing. Minho stops laughing and tugs at your hand which makes you slightly face him. "Hey, don't be embarrassed." He says with that soft, kind voice of his.

"Easy for you to say." You mumble as you look at your hands, one still intertwined in his. He uses his other hand to lift your chin up to face him, you swear you can hear your heartbeat as loudly as a gunshot fired into the dead of the night. His eyes are soft, a twinkle in them, and he has the prettiest smile on his face as he takes in your face.

"I still want a proper compliment Gorgeous." He says and you choke on empty air at the term of endearment (the irony rather). He lets out a chuckle at that and raises his eyebrows for you to go on as he holds your other hand in his. "Can you even breathe right now?" He jokes and you snap out of the daze.

"Jerk," you say pulling your hands from his, turning away with a huff.

"Y/N... come oonnn..." He whines and you involuntarily laugh and turn to see him pouting (lost track of all the embarrassing things you do for him at this point). "Pleaasseeeee", he says with the cutest pout and puppy-dog eyes.

You sigh. "Well, you did amazing." The pout is intact on his face, indicating he wants to hear more. "I- I couldn't take my eyes off you the whole time. I saw Hyunjin and Yeji only during their solos." You admit sheepishly. You are still not sure where all this sudden courage is coming from. You are not the most vulnerable or soft person, in fact, your friends constantly teased you for being nonchalant and tactful during most situations. Lee Minho was going to be the death of you.

He straightens at the admission from you, eyes widening and jaw opening in surprise. A smirk plays up on your face at the opportunity to see him lose his cool.

"Have you forgotten your manners or are you too flustered to say thanks?" You tease not letting the opportunity go to waste. His demeanour changes and the shyness on his face is replaced by something darker, like trouble. He slowly walks towards you, like a cat prancing towards its meal, and you take a step back till you are flush against the railing as he keeps walking closer. You think your heart will fail if he keeps doing it. He stops an inch from your face, placing both his palms on either side of you on the railing.

"Let's see who is too flustered now..." His voice is deep and gravelly. You gulp and stare at his face, not having the courage to do anything else. He starts leaning towards your face, his eyes momentarily drift to your lips and god help your poor soul.

"Min-Minho.. wha-what are y-you doing?"

Your voice breaks and his lip tilts slightly before he speaks, "Can I kiss you?" His voice has gone an octave deeper and your heart skips several beats. All you can manage is a small nod in approval and he shakes his head. "Say it, Gorgeous."

Jesus this man is out to kill you.

"Ye-yes." The word leaves your mouth more like a question but the smirk on his face tells you he is satisfied. He leans in more, your lips almost connecting and you close your eyes waiting for his lips to touch yours. One beat, two beats, three beats and the effect never comes. You open your eyes in confusion to see Minho has moved a little back, with the proudest smile on his face.

Before you can begin to voice out your confusion he speaks. "I will kiss you...", you're still confused, "Only if you pass your finals."

"Huh?" That's all you can think and say.

"I said what I said."

"What does that even mean? Why did you ask to kiss me and then not do it... are you crazy! I swear to god if this is some sick joke to you, I will murder you Lee Minho." You are fuming, your face is burning up and you're embarrassed.

"I- no no you've got it wrong. I'm sorry I didn't mean to... I was teasing. Its... I have wanted to do this for a while now... but I thought maybe you don't really like me or... God!" He groans and runs a hand through his hair.

"What do you mean?"

He turns around to look at you, eyes wide and his hand fidgets in nervousness.

"Y/n I- I like you... I have for a while. I saw you during a freshman-year party as you came to help a very drunk Hyunjin. I thought you were his girlfriend for an entire year because you both were very close so I kept my distance. Last year I got to know that you both were just friends and really wanted to get to know you."

He stops and sighs, he positively looks scared and tired. You feel bad but your own confusion and insecurity clouds your mind.

"Then why didn't you?"

He looks straight into your eye and lets out a scoff.

"Did you even know me until two months back?"

All you can do is stare back because you are guilty. Even you had been asking yourself how you had never noticed Minho in all the times you've hung out with the dance team after performances. You had even known Chan, the team leader back when you were freshmen. But somehow missed the one person you seem to care about right now.

"That's what I thought." He looks dejected. You really want to hug him, which is surprising considering you don't even like hugs usually.

So you walk up to him, closing the gap between the two of you in three steps and wrap your arms around his waist and feel him freeze. Your head reaches near his shoulder, and you lean into it because there is some unbridled courage in you that you are not about to waste. After a beat or two you feel his arms wrap around your waist and you wait for the butterflies and nerves but instead, you feel your heartbeat slow down. It feels... comfortable.

"I'm sorry. I am not exactly the most observant person. Especially around the dance team because I am way too in awe and kinda scared. I don't think I would've been friends with Yeji and Hyunjin if I had not met them outside of the team. But after the last two months, I don't even understand how I missed you. Especially with how you dance and not to forget that smart brain of yours. But yeah... I'm sorry" The words fall out of your mouth on their own but it feels right.

"Not your fault. I did keep myself very much out of the limelight because I was... I don't know, maybe scared of rejection. But yeah, wish I'd spoken to you earlier." You can feel his words. You also feel his heartbeat slow down.

"I don't regret anything that happened though." His voice sounds a lot lighter this time.

"Neither do I."

You slightly pull back to see his face and try to get out of the embrace but he holds onto you tight. An involuntary smile creeps up your face.

"So... what happens now?"

He thinks for a second and a glint forms in his eyes.

"What do you want to happen?"

You like this.

"Three things. I want you to continue tutoring me. I also want to be your girlfriend and... I need you to kiss me now." You see him start to speak and continue before he can. "If you say you won't do that until I pass, I swear to god Lee Minho, I will never let you talk to me or touch me ever again." His whole face goes into a pout and it makes you regret your own condition because it seems impossible to stay away from this guy- in any capacity.

"Then I guess I'll just have to kiss you until you pass and then reward you with more kisses after that."

He is grinning ear to ear, looking all cute and radiant. You're sure your also grinning equally widely. You nod your head fiercly and he chuckles with his head thrown back (Gorgeous, as always). He slowly leans in and your eyes close shut.

This time you feel his lips on you, soft and firm. You had thought about this moment far too much but nothing came close to the real thing. The kiss felt perfect, delicate but assured and blissful. It felt like all of the universe had frozen in place and only the two of you existed in this endless bliss.

That is until you heard hoots from somewhere and reluctantly break the kiss to see all of the dance team and your friends cheering on for both of you.

"Neither of us was subtle huh?" You joke.

"Oh please, I was so subtle I practically melted into the background for a year." You playfully hit his chest as he laughs and waves off the hooligans cheering on.

"Ugh, it's gonna be so much harder to keep my hands off you during tutoring sessions now." He groans and you can't help but blush and let out a content laugh.

Maybe the computer science elective was a good decision after all.

[hwanchaesong]

Sanctuary (Love Epiphany) Preview

pairing: Heeseung X F!Reader

synopsis: Cupid's arrow was thought to be amiss, but as the world slows down and the gravity of reality pushes the feelings out just for the arrow to pierce through it, causing flowers to start blooming even during winter.

word count: tba

genre & warnings: angst, smut, fluff, warnings tba

a/n: this is a teaser for the upcoming Enhypen: Tropes & Parallels series that i've been working on. i hope y'all look forward to it. please don't hesitate to tell me if you wanted to be added to the taglist. tysm 🩷

Heeseung felt his lungs burn, desperate for air. He felt his knees buckle, begging for a few minutes of rest. He felt his heart beat faster, tired of pumping blood to keep him oxygenated. He felt his brain go numb, shutting down from how much thinking he's done for the past hour.

But he couldn't stop yet, no, he's not gonna pause his mission on finding you.

He needs to see you, to talk to you, to hold you, to hear your angelic voice once more or else he'll go insane from how much his entire being is longing for your presence.

"Heeseung? What are you doing here?"

Heaven sent, he must have done something good in his past life if he's being rewarded like this despite being a fool who couldn't play his cards right.

He turns to where your voice came from, and my god, you were as gorgeous as the day he first saw you in your backyard, wearing your soiled red overalls and ugly crying about some toy that you accidentally destroyed.

Except right now, you stand in front of him, wearing an ivory colored polyester coat, strands of your hair falling perfectly to frame your endearing face, the tip of your nose slightly red from the cold due to the winter season.

You are spectacular, more so when he saw a glimpse of the silver bracelet that he gave you before you left his side. The bracelet with his initials on it.

"Heeseung? Are you okay?" you asked him once more, worry etched on your features when he didn't answer the first time.

You were astonished to see him here, not once in your wildest dreams did you think that you'll meet the man whom you swore to bury in the back of your mind.

But then again, buried treasures are meant to be dug, to be appreciated. They are meant to be seen by the world, one that Heeseung was holding in the palm of his hands as he approached you and cupped your face.

"I'm here to look for my home." he mumbles, and you had half a mind to ask him to repeat what he said because your fuzzy senses might be playing tricks on you.

You might have heard him wrong, only to be slapped by the fact that you heard him right.

"I followed my walking diary here. My safe place, my comfort zone." He lowered his head, nuzzling his nose with yours.

"I'm here to be with my sanctuary."

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@lilyuwon @ramenoil