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fourth-wing-stories · 2 days ago

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Mirrorball - Part 4

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Ridoc x OC

Words: 1747

Summary: Tensions run high as Iris and Ridoc find themselves caught in a storm of emotions. After weeks of unspoken feelings and jealous glances, a heated argument brings everything to the surface.

A/N: Hope you like it xoxo

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Tags: @sweetsugarcoffee

Requests are OPEN, check bio

When the group went to the bar that night, the atmosphere was light and familiar—like countless evenings before, filled with laughter, drinks, and banter among the riders. They had a table in the corner, slightly removed from the loudest part of the crowd, but still surrounded by the hum of conversation and clinking mugs.

Iris sat with Rhiannon and Violet, casually sipping her drink as Ridoc sat across the table, surrounded by Sawyer, Aaric, and a few others. As usual, Ridoc was his charming, easygoing self, laughing loudly at something Sawyer said, but Iris could feel his gaze flick toward her more often than usual.

Rhiannon nudged Iris with a smirk. “He’s been glancing your way all night. Care to explain?”

Iris rolled her eyes, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her neck. “Nothing to explain. We’re just... friends.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Violet chimed in, clearly not buying it. She leaned in, her tone teasing. “Is that what all that tension was about earlier? Because it feels like more than just friends.”

Iris didn’t respond, instead taking another sip of her drink and avoiding their knowing looks. She could feel the tension between herself and Ridoc building all evening, just like it always did when they were near each other. But Iris was not gonna be someone's second choice, someone he goes to when the thing with the guy from third year ends or Ridoc gets bored. She´s not gonna be the one pining for a guy that might not even be interested her beyond a good fuck.

The third year, Jason was his name, came up to our table and sat down next to Ridoc. Iris could feel her chest tighten at the sight. Enough was enough, she needed a distraction. She spotted Kellan at the bar, he´d try to flirt with her before but she had shut it down. He wasn´t really her type but he'd do.

She stood up and told Vi and Ri she was gonna get another drink. She was gonna get another drink, just hopefully it be Kellen buying. As she came up to him, she brushed her hand over his arm and she already knew she had him. He lost all interested inn his buddies and turned all his attention on her.

At their table Ridoc was now fuming. Iris laughed at something Kellen said, though she barely registered his words—her attention was divided, fully aware of Ridoc watching her from across the table.

She met his eyes and for a moment they just looked at each other then he looked back to Jason next to him. but. She'd been so stupid to think he was actually interested inn her. The third year leaned in close to him, laughing at something he said, his hand resting lightly on his arm.

She caught Ridoc’s eye across the table, and there it was: his signature smirk. He raised his glass in a silent challenge, as if to say, jealous?

Kellan leaned in closer, his hand brushing her arm as he asked her something, but she didn’t quite catch what it was. She was too focused on Ridoc—how his eyes kept flicking toward her, how he seemed to be deliberately ignoring her, as if that wasn’t exactly what she was doing too.

“Hey, are you listening?” Kellan’s voice snapped her back to the moment.

“Something on your mind?” Kellan asked, a playful smirk on his lips, he put his han around her waist pulling her in a bit closer, obviously trying to keep her attention.

Iris opened her mouth to reply, but just then, she saw Ridoc push his chair back and stand up. Jason reached for him, asking something, but Ridoc waved him off, his eyes locking on Iris again. That smirk was gone, replaced by something darker, something more intense.

She turned back to Kellan, knowing full well what she was doing. “Actually, I think I’m going to step outside for some air. Too much noise in here.”

Kellan blinked, surprised. “Uh, want some company?”

Before Iris could answer, Ridoc was suddenly beside her. “She’s good,” he said, his voice smooth but with an edge, not even bothering to look at Kellan. He was focused entirely on Iris, and she could feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

Kellan frowned, looking between them. “Everything okay?”

“Iris and I need to talk,” Ridoc said firmly, giving Kellan a look that brooked no argument.

Iris shot Kellan an apologetic look before following Ridoc as he led her out of the bar. The cool night air hit her as they stepped outside, the sky overcast, heavy with the promise of rain. They were just outside the bar’s entrance, far enough from the noise but close enough that she could still hear the muffled laughter and clinking glasses from inside.

She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling defensive, and turned to face Ridoc. “What the hell, Ridoc? I was in the middle of a conversation.”

“A conversation?” he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “With Kellan?”

“What does it matter to you?” she shot back, her frustration bubbling up. “You seemed pretty busy with Jason.”

Ridoc let out a sharp laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, so this is what this is about? You’re jealous?”

“Jealous?!” Iris’ voice rose. “Of course not! Why would I be jealous of you and him?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Ridoc retorted, stepping closer to her. “You were practically throwing yourself at Kellan in there.”

“I was talking to him, Ridoc. You have no right to—”

“To what?” he cut her off, his voice rising with frustration. “To care? To be pissed off when I see you flirting with some guy?”

“Oh, so it’s okay when you’re flirting with Jason, but when I talk to someone, it’s a problem?” Iris shot back, her anger flaring. She could feel the tension between them crackling like the air before a storm, and she was done pretending it didn’t affect her.

“I wasn’t flirting with Jason,” Ridoc growled, his eyes flashing. He was telling the truth, she could feel it. But that didn´t make her any less angry. “And don’t act like you don’t know what this is about, Iris.” he continued.

“I don’t, Ridoc! I don’t understand you at all!” she snapped. “One minute, you’re distant, you’re pushing me away, and the next you’re acting like I’m the only person in the room. What do you want from me?!”

Ridoc stepped even closer, his face inches from hers, the intensity in his gaze making her heart race. “I don’t want to push you away,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But damn it, Iris, you drive me crazy.”

Before she could finish, the sky opened up and rain began to pour down, drenching them in seconds. But neither of them moved, too caught up in the storm of emotions raging between them.

“What the hell do you want, Ridoc?” Iris snapped, trying to mask the vulnerability she felt creeping up her spine. She wasn’t going to stand there and let him pretend like nothing had been happening between them, like it wasn’t affecting her.

Ridoc walked closer, shaking his head in frustration, his voice firm but not angry. “We should go inside, you’ll get sick.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Iris let out a short, bitter laugh, her heart pounding in her chest. “You think I care about the rain right now? Really?”

He stepped even closer, close enough now that she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his chest rose and fell as though he was holding back something. His voice was low, the words almost lost in the sound of the rain. “No but I care about you, so stop yelling at me and get back inside" Iris didn´t move.

She shook her head, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. “You have a funny way of showing it. One minute you’re all smiles and smirks, the next you’re off with Jason or flirting with whoever catches your eye. What am I supposed to think, Ridoc? That I’m just some... temporary amusement for you?”

Ridoc’s eyes darkened, his hands clenching at his sides. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Iris shot back, the rawness in her voice making her throat tighten. “Because I’m not going to keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt every time I see you with someone else.”

She turned to walk away, her heart aching in a way she hadn’t expected, but before she could take more than a step, Ridoc reached out, grabbing her arm—not forcefully, but enough to stop her.

“Iris, wait,” he said, his voice rough now, desperate. “It’s not like that.”

She stopped, looking back at him, rainwater dripping from her chin. “Then what is it like? Because I don’t understand you, Ridoc. One minute you’re all over me, the next, you’re acting like nothing matters. I’m not playing this game with you.”

"I´m not playing games with you!" he yells back stepping closer.

"Fuck this" Iris yells back then turns to walk back to Basgiath when Ridoc grabs her hand and pulls her back, making her turn to face him. "What-" She starts but is silenced by Ridoc pulling her close and kissing her. For a brief moment, she let herself get lost in it—the feeling of his lips on hers, the way he pulled her close. But then the frustration, the confusion, the hurt bubbled back up, and she pushed him away, her breath shaky.

Their eyes meet and they just stay quiet.

Before Iris can speak Ridoc breaks the silence “See you tomorrow, Draven.” Then walks back towards Basgiath leaving Iris alone in the rain. As Ridoc walks away, his heart races, the taste of her still on his lips. He wanted to say more, to explain everything, but the words got caught in his throat. Damn it, Draven. He wasn’t sure what scared him more—how much he wanted her or how much he had to lose.

Iris stood there, frozen in place, watching him walk away. The rain soaking through her clothes, but all she could feel was the heat of his lips on hers. Her mind raced, torn between the anger still simmering in her chest and the undeniable pull she felt toward him. She wanted to hate him for how easily he messed with her heart, but the truth was, she wasn’t sure if she could.

#fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #iron flame #onyx storm #the empyrean #fourth wing x reader #ridoc gamlyn #ridoc x reader #fourth wing x ridoc #ridoc and aotrom #ridoc gamlyn x oc #ridoc x oc #ridoc gamlyn x reader #ridoc fourth wing

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angellesword · 8 months ago

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BAGGAGE | JJK (11)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, cursing, blood, stabbing, loan sharks, OC cusses excessively so watch out.

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

← Previous Chapter (10) | Next Chapter (12) →

Baggage Chapter List

*****

Days passed like a blur, and as much as you wanted to ask your former best friend a question, you couldn't. For once, it wasn't because of Jungkook's indecisiveness or his lack of trust thereof.

Admittedly, Jungkook was trying. There had been many instances when he subtly implied that he was willing to reveal a part of himself to you. However, you learned to be vigilant, becoming suspicious about Jungkook's intention. You felt like Jungkook was only leading you into asking questions he wanted to answer, leaving the ugly truth at bay.

You wouldn't allow that. You would soon aim for questions that were hurtful to Jungkook and satisfying to you.

Forgive and Forget, my ass. You sneered. You were momentarily blinded by your pity for the shitty bastard, but it didn't mean bygone would be bygones. Your promise to Jisoo was to introduce Soobin to Jungkook, which you did. Meanwhile, Jang Min suggested co-parenting your kid—something you were skeptical about but had already dived in.

"Egg!" Soobin puffed out his slightly red cheeks as he peeled the shell of a boiled egg. He was slumped on your living room floor while Jungkook lazily sat on the couch, his gaze switching between watching over Soobin and reading a book.

Your eyes narrowed as you observed the two boys. You stood close to them, but Soobin and Jungkook couldn't see you. You were working upstairs and only went downstairs to get a glass of cold water and briefly check up on your son. These days, Jungkook was the one babysitting Soobin. There were no issues involved, and Soobin seemed to like hanging out with his biological father.

"You know I am a natural when it comes to kids." Jungkook grinned when he said this. You clicked your tongue and called him a cocky bastard.

It was scary how easily you two fell back into your old bickering habits despite the betrayal and years of not seeing each other. If you were to be completely honest, this was also why you didn't dare ask Jungkook a question. He only let down his guard when you were not discussing his past. You were afraid Jungkook would bolt once things became intense. This wasn't an ideal setup, as you felt you were back to contradicting yourself again. Back then, you said you wanted your sister to leave you alone, yet your heart skipped a beat and was filled with grief every time you thought Jisoo stopped breathing.

The hideous cycle had returned. You felt like you were on a precipice again; a part of your brain screamed to jump while the other part coaxed you to step back. You couldn't decide, so you remained rooted in your spot—just like how you let Jungkook invade your space, acting as if you were a careful host who humbly offered tea and biscuits to your guests.

"You done, buddy?" Jungkook casually flipped the page of his book, eyes glued on the printed words.

Soobin shook his head and focused on peeling the egg. The kid's way more patient than you could ever be. You’d probably throw a fuss or give up on eating the egg. You never learned to tolerate things like this, though seeing Soobin remain calm proved that you raised your kid right.

It didn't mean you’d let Soobin starve, though. You sauntered toward the living room. Jungkook's languid gaze fell on you at once. He even had the decency to straighten his back and smile at you.

"Really," you snorted and ignored Jungkook's beaming face. "Why are you giving the poor kid a hard time peeling an egg?"

It wasn't Jungkook's intention to terrorize Soobin, so he stopped you from helping the 'poor' kid. He explained, "No, don't. Let him be. It's good for his motor skills."

"Motor skills," you repeated, scrutinizing how truthful the bastard was being. But Jungkook's reason didn't matter. He was right. Peeling an eggshell was good for Soobin's development. The only downside was that Soobin was so focused on the activity that he didn't bother to cling to you. All he cared about was the egg. You were a little unused to this.

You sighed, "I think he's hungry."

"Oh, please," Jungkook begged to differ. He went back to reading as he snorted. "I just fed him string cheese, chocolate pancakes, fries, and dumplings."

That much food? You frowned.

Soobin was not a picky eater and would devour anything. Unfortunately, he'd been indulging in food a little too much. You turned your disappointment to Jungkook, though.

"Don't keep feeding him unhealthy food."

Jungkook's response was a noncommittal hum. You two had always been liked this before. You would rant to Jungkook, and then he simply played it cool. Old habits were hard to break because you started going off on how to live a healthier life. On the other hand, Jungkook kept his mouth closed as he was busy reading his damn book.

"Jeon." You scowled when you noticed that he wasn't looking at you. "Are you listening?"

Everything happened fast. You went near your ex-best friend and snatched his book. What had gotten this bastard so hooked that he shamelessly ignored you?

"Hey, rude." Jungkook's lips protruded to hide his embarrassment from being caught. He was playing it cool, but you busted him:

You believed Jungkook was reading a nonsensical book, but you thought wrong.

"A guide to eating healthy French food," you murmured the book title.

Jungkook didn't answer and simply cast his gaze to Soobin, finally helping his kid peel off the eggshell—this was better than looking you in the eyes. He didn't know what to say, alright? Jungkook only wanted to make things simple for you. He knew he was freeloading here and didn't want to keep it that way.

That said, Jungkook thought it would be better to ease your workload by helping you in any way possible. Jungkook noticed you had been busy with work and didn't have time to cook. Fortunately, Jungkook had experience cooking, so this should be easy for him to handle. The only issue was he didn't know how to prepare a hearty French meal. It was different from what he had when he was in—

"Ratatouille." You cut off Jungkook's musing and immediately went to your point. "It's one of Soobin's favorite foods, second only to spring crab rolls."

"Mm." Jungkook hummed. He had forgotten his initial thought as he was engaged in your explanations.

"There is always fresh produce in the kitchen. If you want to cook, that's fine. We'll have no problem if you incorporate vegetables into whatever you want to cook. The pudding, though..."

You sighed when Soobin and Jungkook whipped their heads at you at the mention of pudding. "Once a day is enough. I only bought strawberry-flavored this time. Don't look at me like that! It's not an excuse to finish them in one go. I am warning you both."

Soobin lost interest at once. He pouted his lips and started eating his boiled egg.

Meanwhile, Jungkook smiled innocently at you. "Yes, Mam~!"

Yes, Mam. He said, his noodle arm going into a salute. It was silly, really. However, you felt your cheeks heating up. It was the way Jungkook said it, okay!? His voice was naturally sultry. It didn't help that he said those words with a hint of teasing—making you think that you were best friends from the past. Nostalgia was not something you were fond of, though. You groaned at Jungkook. "Don't tease me, or I'll smash your sorry face. My students are giving me a hard time already."

Getting a glass of water was an excuse just so you could have a break from being a professor. You were on leave for days, but you couldn't forever escape your fired-up students, even when your classes were held online.

One would think that Kyouka, a quiet student of yours, would keep her mouth shut during lectures, but no. She had a lot of questions that made you think you needed to study more. Your other student, Junichiro, was well-behaved in class, but you could hear his sister constantly yapping or appearing beside him.

Sometimes, you don't know why you chose to be a professor. If it weren't for your love for the academic world and seeing your students succeed, you would never dream of discussing business-related topics with these people. The pay wasn't that good, so you had other sidelines, too—you were a financial adviser, a management consultant, and a business owner. You delegated jobs to other people as much as you could. In all honesty, being a professor took the majority of your time.

"You're teaching college students. No need to spoon-feed them." Said Jungkook as if he wasn't taking his sweet time gently feeding Soobin the boiled egg. Jungkook originally wanted to let the kid eat on his own, but Soobin was like a vacuum that would devour a whole egg in two seconds. Jungkook didn't want you to worry more.

"Just give them a difficult business case to crack and then have them present in front of the class. You don't even have to listen to the report. Just pick a random student to grade their classmate's work. Easy."

Your mouth fell open by how easy Jungkook's solution was. You had almost forgotten how much of a genius and lazy this bastard was. Sadly, you couldn't deflect Jungkook's suggestion, as he was absolutely right. You spent the better half of this semester indulging your students to the point that they all fell apart when you filed for leave. It's time that they move on their own.

"Fine." You conceded. "I'll do that."

Jungkook beamed. "I solved your problem. What about my reward?"

"There's no reward, Jeon."

Jungkook had the audacity to whine. "Don't be unfair."

I'm being unfair!? You were tempted to hit Jungkook in the head, though you surprised yourself when you snorted spuriously.

"What do you want?" It's bad. This is bad. You cannot give into Jungkook—

"Soobin really wants more pudding. Will you allow him to eat one more cup?"

Oh.

You blinked. Your parted lips turned into a purse. Jungkook's eyes shrunk, totally getting your reaction wrong. He tried to remedy the situation, "I mean, half a cup of pudding works too. But if he can't, then it's okay. Right, kid?"

Jungkook turned to Soobin. The small child nodded at him and opened his mouth to ask for more eggs.

Silence lapsed between the three of you.

"Half a cup." You compromised. Jungkook's ears perked up. He turned to you with a smile on his face.

"Thank you! Kid, come on." Jungkook’s body had healed, but he still couldn't exert much effort to carry Soobin. He offered his hand to his son, though—a compromise. Soobin gladly took his father's hand, bits of yolk stuck to the side of his mouth.

For some reason, your heart warmed. You said nothing and watched the father-son duo happily skip to the kitchen.

******

The beginning of better days passed by smoothly. Soobin was spending quite a lot of time with Jungkook as you wrapped up the semester and dealt with your business clients.

At this point, one could say that Jungkook had unknowingly become Soobin's babysitter. Weirdly enough, you didn't mind.

"That's normal, you know." Jang Min's lazy drawl from the other line echoed in your ears.

You two had been video chatting for hours now. This was the only time you had a proper conversation in weeks. You dealt with your work while Jang Min busied himself with business affairs. Until now, Jang Min had no idea when he could fly back to Korea.

You missed him. You spent the better half of your video call telling your boyfriend about your life now that you were living with your former best friend. You didn't want to leave out any details, even the unnecessary ones, as you did not want Jang Min to feel like you were hiding something.

Jang Min wasn't the jealous type. But it didn't mean you would cross his boundaries. You used to be head over heels with Jungkook and Jang Min being unbothered by it, but it wasn't an excuse to leave some details out.

But really, there was nothing worthwhile. You just felt bad that you didn’t mind allowing Jungkook to spend time with your son almost 24/7. You were wondering if you were being too lenient with the shitty bastard. The part of you that was betrayed howled for acting like nothing wrong happened before—like Jungkook didn't hurt you, and he wasn't prone to bolting.

Jang Min reassured you.

"It's normal to want to let Soobin be with his biological father. You deserve a break, too, Cолнышко мо." Jang Min's eyes dropped. He was in bed, looking all cozy. You almost melted by how comforting your boyfriend's tone was, but it faded when Jang Min spoke again.

"The kid's been burdening you for years. It's time Jungkook-ssi handles his son."

"What do you mean by that." Your mood dampened. You furrowed your brow in annoyance. "Soobin is not bothering me."

'Bothering' was putting it off lightly. Only dense people would not understand the connotation of your words. But Jang Min was never one to canoodle anyone when he thought he was right.

"Of course he is." Jang Min's gaze was patronizing. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It's just impractical. You're a young woman—"

"I'm a mother." You cut him off sharply.

Jang Min tilted his head as if he were studying your mood. "Hmm." He hummed thoughtfully. "You are. You will be. But Soobin is Jungkook's responsibility. I mean, isn't that the reason why you agreed to co-parent with him? It's a trial run to see if he is fit to solely take care of Soobin in the future."

This was not a conversation you should be having over the phone. In fact, this was not a conversation you two should be having at all.

You felt the veins in your head pulsating. Heat crawled to your face, utterly shocked by how absurd this whole thing was.

First, Jang Min unknowingly called Soobin a fucking burden. He said everything was a trial run as if Soobin were a guinea pig. It's all so—

"I'm hanging up." You refused to believe what you heard from Jang Min. You thought hanging up on him would lessen the fury rapidly firing in your heart.

No one was allowed to disrespect your relationship with Soobin. The kid was your child. Your sister, although fucked up, gifted you a loving boy. Soobin would never be reduced to anything other than being your son.

Jang Min uttered your name when he noticed the frost in your eyes. "I'm just trying to—"

"Stop." You were not going to allow disrespect. Not anymore. "I'm trying hard to control my anger here, Jang Min-ssi. We both know how I am when I'm mad, so for the sake of our relationship, I am hanging up."

Calling him Jang Min-ssi was a warning. Luckily, the Russian dude finally got it.

"You know I love you, right?"

"I know," you said through gritted teeth. "And I feel the same way with you; this is why I'm hanging up. I'll call you when I've cooled down, but the next time we talk, I expect you to leave your opinion about my relationship with Soobin. It's not going to change. Ever."

Jang Min seemed to want to say something but ultimately decided against it. The silence was palpable, and you couldn't take it any longer. You didn't want to keep looking at your boyfriend's face either.

"Talk soon. Bye." So you cut the line. It took you a while to realize your heart was beating loudly against your chest. You were about to sleep but didn't think you could anymore.

You were too upset.

Against your better judgment, you got out of bed, grabbed a bottle of your expensive wine, and sauntered toward the veranda of your home. You were used to solitude at times like this, so you were taken aback when you spotted Jungkook slouching on the veranda's chair.

"Oh, hey." Jungkook was as surprised as you, though he quickly recovered and teased you. "Why are you here? Are you stalking me~?"

"This is my house, asshole." You didn't miss the chance to bite.

Jungkook shrugged casually and made some room for you beside him. The wordless action didn't go unnoticed by you. You sat down next to your former best friend, unscrewing the cap of your bottled wine, and, without any preamble, gulped the expensive liquor.

"Want some?" You offered carelessly, even though your heart was going wild.

Please say no.

"No." Jungkook obliged. No No thanks, just straight out no. He was firm with his choice. "I told you before. I don't drink anymore."

Why. You were tempted to ask, yet all you did was stare at Jungkook as you chugged more wine. You wiped your lips after, eyes still burning holes at your traitor of a best friend.

Jungkook was thinner compared to years ago. He looked older, too—as if time had been cruel to him. There was a hint of danger and exhaustion in his chestnut eyes. He improved these past few weeks, though. Spending time with an innocent child really clipped one's ragged edge.

Jungkook had been eating well, although it wasn't enough to replenish his damaged body. He could only hide in the expensive clothes you bought for him.

"Is there something on my face, dearest friend?" Jungkook was getting bold with the way he addressed you—as if he knew when to call you that without any repercussions. He was right. You were busy staring at him.

Jungkook looked much better than the first time you two met, but...

You sighed. But you weren’t sure if looking better meant he could take care of Soobin.

It wasn't an option, but Jang Min's harsh opinion got into your head. You would never give Soobin up, but you couldn't help but think if Jungkook was fit to care for a precious child.

"Do you always wear that clown costume to work?" There was no warning when you asked this. It was your first question to Jungkook, after all. He expected things to escalate soon since you and him had been in a truce these past weeks. Nothing good lasted forever.

Jungkook had predicted that this day (and question) would come, though it didn't make admitting the answer easier.

Still, he did it. He wasn't lying when he said he wanted to come clean to you—it might not be all at once, but one truth would not hurt.

Right?

"Not always, only on special occasions." Jungkook licked his lower lip and avoided looking at the wine. Tempting. It was a good thing you two didn't have a similar taste to alcohol. Jungkook preferred whiskey (neat) and soju.

"I man up the cash register. But it doesn't make much difference." Jungkook's face was unreadable—like he was merely speaking of a story he got to know from other people. "Kids throw ice cream at me when I wear the clown costume. Older people threw fries or coins at me when I was at the counter."

Most were rude to people taking their orders. Jungkook had learned to live with it. He should return to working at that fast food restaurant soon (if the manager takes him back). Jungkook had been absent without proper notice. He tried not to think about his future, indulging in how good things were to him.

But it's time to wake up from this little fantasy and face reality.

You were living in denial, though. Your eyes flicked at Jungkook, refusing to believe that the scars near his eyes were because of rude customers.

Still, you found the courage to ask.

"Is that why you have scars near your eyes? Because the customers were rude to you?"

Please say no.

"No." Jungkook shook his head. You were relieved. Fate was listening to you —it was the second time now. "I got them from somewhere else."

Jungkook used to cover his right eye with a bandage to hide his scars, but it was futile, and he didn't have enough money to buy bandages.

"From those men?" You tried to keep your voice steady, wishing Jungkook was kind enough to answer another question despite promising only one.

"Violent men, yes." Jungkook didn't disappoint, but he was vague about his response. You didn't push any further, fearing what you’d find out.

You chugged your wine, the warm liquid grazing your throat. It felt good but didn't last long as your heart bled while asking another question.

"Will..." You gulped. "Will those men come back?" You two had avoided this topic for so long. You had a panic attack regarding Jungkook's safety before, thinking he was unconcerned by the whole ordeal. Truthfully, Jungkook seemed nonchalant about it even now.

"You shouldn't worry." Jungkook's hands were in his pockets. He looked defensive—secretive. You couldn't help but clench your fist, tone scathing when you mocked the bastard:

"Who said I'm worried about you? I only care about Soobin."

The implication was clear. You were suspicious Jungkook would bring misfortune to you and Soobin.

Jungkook puffed out a breath, hands shaking. He forced down the lump in his throat and tried to look at you as genuinely as he could.

"I won't let them hurt you and Soobin." He wanted to hold your hands, but he knew he couldn't. He lost that privilege a long time ago. Jungkook could only settle with verbal words. "I promise you that."

"Your promise means nothing to me, Jungkook." But even his promise lost its value. Jungkook could see it in your eyes. You did not trust him.

Jungkook felt a piece of what you had gone through for the first time because of his betrayal.

Distrust. Pain. Horrible pain.

But unlike you, Jungkook didn't have the right to get mad about your lack of trust. This was heavily justified.

"I know." Jungkook stuttered a breath. "I'm sorry."

Fuck you. You wanted to scream. Instead, you chugged your wine until your face was hot. This was all new for you. You spent years making yourself believe that Jungkook was not worthy and was incapable of saying sorry.

I slept with your sister. He said before, face devoid of any emotion. Jungkook did not bother to tell you he was having trouble with the authorities and even called you pathetic for looking after him.

And now this? It gave you a whiplash at how fast things were changing. This was not the Jungkook you knew, making you panic. You desperately held on to believing that your former best friend was the villain.

"You said you're sorry, right?" You flicked a complicated gaze at him. Jungkook mirrored your action, but his chocolate eyes were languid. He nodded at you.

"Then prove it to me." Your lips twisted into a menacing grin as you offered the bottle of wine to Jungkook. "I'll bury the hatchet if you drink this wine."

Jungkook's expression changed at once; his shoulders sagged. "I told you before. I don't drink anymore."

Liar. You seethed quietly. He was drunk the first time you met him after many years. You didn't care if it was a moment of weakness for this asshole.

"You can't make an exception now? Come on, bastard. It's just wine."

You chugged on the bottle again before clumsily pushing it to his chest. Jungkook was like a rock, though. He didn't move, allowing you to push the bottle close to his thumping heart.

Your insistence was to no avail. Ultimately, you grew frustrated and ended up drinking the whole bottle yourself.

"Ugh," your head throbbed as you felt your body temperature heating up. Jungkook knew you were drunk. He inevitably grabbed the bottle and placed it on the floor. You didn't protest, merely burying your flushed face to his chest.

Jungkook called your name helplessly—as if he was a poor kitsune who lost his wits and tricks after falling into the hands of a Goddess.

"I hate you." You were as fierce as ever. You tried to scratch Jungkook, but your hands were shaky.

Jungkook heaved shallow breaths, posture rigid—a poor attempt to mask his pain. One would think he was desensitized by all kinds of hurt. However, everything that left your mouth also left a dent in his heart.

"I know." But Jungkook couldn't even refute you. You have every right to hate me. He muttered to himself as he helped you get to your feet and inside the house.

You were an annoying drunk, slurring swear and unintelligible words. Jungkook didn't mind, though. You had lowered your defenses, and this was something Jungkook had longed to see. However, he refused to take advantage of your drunkenness, so even when he wanted to bring you to your room, he didn't.

It was a courtesy. Jungkook has already invaded your space by shamelessly living in your home. He couldn't possibly thread into your bedroom. It was too much—too personal. He couldn't take or peak at something that belonged to you alone. And so Jungkook settled you into the couch. Youwere still murmuring words, eyes glazed over. Jungkook left you for a while to retrieve a blanket. You liked curling yourself into a ball while sleeping. You couldn't get comfortable without a blanket covering your feet.

Jungkook wasn't the same. He slept in worse places before. He could survive a night without a blanket. Besides, Jungkook didn't think he could sleep—for he was busy indulging himself in looking at your sleeping figure. He didn't dare do more, though. He had the urge to cup your cheeks and kiss the seam of your lips.

But he didn’t.

You weren't his—Jungkook knew this, yet it didn't make it hurt any less.

It was his fault.

"Kyouka...." You mumbled in your sleep. "Resht. It'sh jus' an exam. Don' push yourshelf too hard."

Jungkook smiled lightly at that. You were still thinking about your beloved students even when you were drunk. It was amazing, really. He knew you had a lot on your plate right now (you wouldn't get drunk without a reason, no matter how much you liked expensive wines.) Still, you thought of other people's answers and were willing to set aside your worries for others. You were just so...

Softhearted. Jungkook thought, feeling his heart throbbed. You were so good—to him, Soobin, and your students. It made Jungkook realize something:

Jungkook couldn't drink, and his pathetic life meant so little. However, he was willing to offer his life for you. Because really, this poor world would feel colorless without you orbiting it.

*******

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A/N: What do we think about this chapter? :) Tag suggestions are encouraged!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #ficswithluv #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc

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mattybraps10 · 1 year ago

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I Can See You | Brendan Brisson x Hughes!OC

Summary: Phoebe Hughes loved being at the lake with her brothers more than anything. This is the last summer before Luke goes to New Jersey to join Jack, and she's ready to make the most of their changing lives. However, once she arrives, she learns that the boys have invited a special guest this summer... Brendan fucking Brisson.

Word Count: 1130

By: M

Parts: part two | part three | part four | part five

PART ONE:

With summer quickly approaching, Phoebe Hughes was ready to put her books away and lounge around the lake with her brothers. Although she had spent almost everyday with Luke whilst at school, she was still looking forward to having one-on-one time with the three of them like it used to be. She was proud of her brothers, of course, but with two of them in the NHL and one about to leave, she was starting to miss constantly being with them, something she’d never admit to. When the last day of the semester finally came, she and Luke packed up the car, smiling and waving to Luke’s teammates as they pulled out of the driveway.

“Ready Pheebs?” Luke asked, turning the car onto the main road.

“Definitely.” Phoebe nodded, glad that summer continued to be a constant in their ever-changing lives.

When they pulled up to the lake house, Phoebe was overwhelmed with the pure bliss accompanied by the wooded scenery. The lake was the one place that really felt like home to her after moving around so much as a kid. Stepping out of the car, Phoebe was transported back to high school summers with various members of her brothers’ teams, laughing around the fire pit without the stresses of adulthood. The smell of the pine trees filled her nose as she spun around, tilting her head back.

“Good to be back, huh?” Luke asked.

“You know how much I love this place.” She replied simply, everyone knew how much she loved her summers. Just as she was about to knock on the door, it opened and Jack stepped out, bumping into her.

“Umph- PHEEBS! I missed you kiddo.” Jack quickly wrapped her into a huge hug. Being the youngest of the Hughes siblings, Phoebe was used to being babied by her brothers and their friends.

“Missed you too Rowdy. Where’s Quinn?” She asked, stepping into the foyer. The foyer consisted of a massive hallway, and stairs leading down into the main rooms of the house.

“Oh, Quinn’s just showing Briss around the house, you remember him right?” Boy did she remember him. Brendan had been her first crush, her first kiss, her first taste of teenage rebellion, and as all things go, her first heartbreak. Of course, the boys had no idea or Brendan would not have been invited back to the house, let alone breathing.

“Oh. Um. Maybe? You guys have a lot of friends.” She shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

“You’ll recognize him when you see him, he was around a lot when we were younger. I’ll help Luke unload the car now, you should go find Quinn.” Jack said, dismissing Phoebe and walking out the door.

Great.

Phoebe wandered down the stairs, mentally preparing herself for the overwhelming emotions that would come when she laid eyes on Brendan again. She thought she’d gotten over him when she’d ended up at University of Michigan in his wake, but the pain of what he’d done forever lingered. She didn’t really blame him, she was three years younger and never expected anything to come of their relationship, but it still hurt when he pulled away and left for college.

“Hey Pheebs, how are ya?” Quinn said, walking to the foot of the stairs and pulling her into a long hug.

“Quinny, I missed you buddy.” She replied easily, hugging him back.

“By the way, Briss is in the guest room if you wanna say hi, I know you guys spent a lot of time together growing up.” Leave it to Quinn to have picked up on their fleeting relationship, although it seemed he didn't know the true nature of it.

“Oh. Uh- Maybe. I’m gonna unpack first…”

“Is- Are you okay Pheebs?” Of course he picked up on her hesitancy. Quinn had always been the most observant of her brothers, he always knew when things were off about her.

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Okay. We’re gonna head out on the boat in a bit if you wanna join.” He dropped the subject, although it was clear he didn’t believe her in the slightest.

She walked to her room, opening her drawers and putting on an old swimsuit. Since she was usually only away during winter months, she left her warm weather clothes at the house, opting to make the drive on odd weekends when the weather warmed up. The bikini she grabbed had been Brendan’s favorite on her, small high waisted polka dot bottoms with a matching pink top. She hardly noticed the suit she’d grabbed, however, her mind preoccupied by thoughts of what it’d be like to finally see him again.

“PHEEBS LETS GO!” Quinn yelled through the door, breaking her from her thoughts.

“COMING HOLD ON!!” She replied, pulling her brown hair out of its ponytail and letting it cascade down her shoulders. She ran out her door, figuring she’d grab one of her brother’s shirts as a cover up.

“Woah.” A voice, Brendan, whispered. She wasn’t expecting him to look better than he had years before. He had been hot then, but now… Well now he was a whole other level of hot.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor before my brothers see you ogling me. You had your shot, remember?” I said, walking into Jack’s room and grabbing a shirt from the closet.

“Uh. Yeah.” He replied, following her into the room and scratching the back of his neck. As he raised his arm, his shirt lifted just slightly and Phoebe could see the outline of his abs, he certainly hadn’t had that when they were younger, that’s for sure.

“C’mon Lil’ Hughes, your brothers are already on the boat.” He said, leaning on the door frame as Phoebe put on Jack’s shirt, butterflies erupting in her stomach at the nickname she hadn’t heard in years.

He led the way down to the boathouse, making jokes and trying to rekindle their relationship and Phoebe couldn’t help but find it endearing. When they reached the boathouse, Phoebe was just about ready to forgive him.

“Hey Pheebs, Briss nice of y’all to finally join us.” Luke said, nodding in their direction.

“Woah, Pheebs, who’s shirt is that?” Jack asked, confused.

“You mean it’s not yours? Why the hell was it in your closet?” She asked, starting to get frustrated.

“It wasn’t- Briss and I traded rooms cause the other room was too bright for him with the big windows…”

“OH. MY. GOD. You’re wearing Briss’ shirt! HAHAHA!!” Luke interrupted Jack, cackling like a hyena.

“Brendan.” Phoebe quickly turned to Brendan, her face shrouded in a frown.

“I- What?” He asked, raising his hands up in mock surrender.

“Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I thought you knew?” He said, shrugging. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”

#brendan brisson #brendan brisson x oc #nhl #umich hockey #luke hughes #jack hughes #quinn hughes

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fennecogungirl · 14 days ago

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Buddy Pine x Dani

For @nordengaard

I drew this cause i was bored

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nordengaard · 26 days ago

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“Real life’s nasty. It’s cruel. It doesn’t care about heroes and happy endings and the way things should be. In real life, bad things happen. People die. Fights are lost. Evil often wins.” -Darren Shan

Not everyone will get a happy ending. The question is who will?

Base by Tiroma on Deviantart

#original character #original content #fanfic #original art #oc #harrypotteroc #snape x oc #setoxkisara #seto kaiba #yugiohkisara #yugioh oc #kisara yugioh #the incredibles oc #the incredibles #buddy pine #incredibles syndrome

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callsignspark · 1 year ago

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Mar[r]y Me - part 8.5.2

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, like soooo much flirting, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 3.6k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Friday! I hope everyone had lovely holidays and 2024 is going well for you so far! I did have some issues tagging people so apologizes if you didn't notified! I really loved writing this chapter, especially since it's going to help set the stage for the rest of the story! (only 4 more parts to go! isn't that crazy??) please be safe if you have snow coming towards you this weekend, and enjoy these two pining and yearning for each other more than ever.

part 8.5.2 - rambling and rings

Friday, April 16, 2021

Mary waves at the obnoxiously large SUV as Slider honks and drives away. Leaning against the entryway table, she slips her heels off and wiggles her painted toes at the feeling of the soft runner beneath her feet. Shuffling over to the entertainment console, she hums as she connects her phone, choosing the song that was on in the car.

The dreamy guitar intro floats through the air, making her smile. And the last beams of golden sunshine disappear as she dances through the living room, enjoying the peaceful feeling that’s settled in her chest and closing the blinds in between twirls.

Good things are happening at work, rumbles that there’s a promotion coming on the horizon. The monthly call back home to her parents hadn’t ended in tears for the first time in months. Most of her evenings are spent in the company of at least one Dagger family member, helping Kris and Dani with their kids or enjoying the adult-only life with Aaron and Flora. Bradley is messaging her as often as he can, every email making her heart flutter, increasing her joy with every sentence he types.

Everything is coming together in ways she had never even dared to dream about.

An early dinner with Ron, Mav, and Penny was the cherry on top of a great week. The four of them laughing and telling stories the entire time, taking advantage of the warm spring weather at the patio table Pete had reserved for Slider’s birthday. As stories and photos were traded across the table, Mary felt like her heart could burst learning about baby Bradley. The only quiet moment of the evening was when their waiter brought an unordered round of drinks to the table, prompting the men to venture inside and thank the old Navy buddy that had spotted them through the window.

“Thank you, Matt; it was getting just a tiny bit too windy for us.”

“No problem, ma’am.” The young man smiles over his shoulder as he finishes turning the outdoor heater on. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”

“I think we’re good for now, thank you,” Penny answers, glancing at Mary, softening at the sight of the younger woman lost in thought as she stares out at the ocean with a content smile.

She watches as brown eyes drift from the water to the table, gentle fingers tracing over a copy of a photo that’s older than the girl studying it. Penny stays quiet, letting the sound of waves crashing on the sand accompany the slight furrow that creases Mary’s brow as she brings the photo closer to her face.

“He looks just like his dad, doesn’t he?”

“He does; he acts a lot like him, too, more than he realizes.”

“You knew him?” It’s not a surprised reaction, just curious.

Penny hums, “We weren’t close, but I knew him enough to see how much Bradley has turned out like him. He’s a good blend of both his parents.”

“Did you know Carole very well?”

“More than Nick, by default, but for the most part, we were at different stages in life. She was older than me by a few years. I was in college and she was a widow raising a toddler. But, as you know, the aviator community is pretty small, so we were friendly. I would even babysit Bradley sometimes when the guys were deployed.”

“He was a cute baby,” Mary says softly, eyes back on the last photo taken of the whole Bradshaw family.

“He was… turned out to be a handsome man, didn’t he?” Penny asks, taking advantage of the moment.

She smirks as the younger woman looks up at her through her lashes, a shy smile stretching her pink cheeks. “He did.”

“Can I ask you something while they’re still inside?”

“We’re not together. But we are going on a date the week after he gets back.” Now it’s Mary’s turn to smirk at how Penny’s eyebrows rocket up to her hairline. “That is what you were going to ask me, right?”

“It’s close enough. Are you excited?”

“I am. I really like him.”

It’s the first time she admitted it out loud to anyone other than her best friend. She revels in the encouraging energy and words Penny gives back, both of them still giggling like school girls when Pete and Ron return.

“What are you two laughing about?” Slider asks as he slips Mary’s wrap over her shoulders.

“Oh, nothing.” When Penny winks, she has the overwhelming urge to cry. The knowing look accompanying those two words is more affectionate and maternal than anything her mother has done in years.

Their hug goodbye lasts a few seconds longer than expected, and the gentle hands that smooth some stray hairs back make her throat tighten. Slider is quiet on the ride home; familiar with the many moods of Mary, he lets her work through her thoughts with the radio on low.

“Y’okay, kid?” He doesn’t speak until he pulls into her neighborhood, giving himself a five-block buffer to determine if a pit stop to the closest ice cream shop is required.

“Yeah. Just-” Mary pauses, trying to figure out how to best explain. “Just still getting used to it.”

“To what?”

“To how easy it is to just be me out here. Surrounded by people who have just folded me into their lives with zero hesitation, like I’ve always been here.”

“Mary, were you happy in Florida?”

“I was content. Getting to know you helped with that a lot, but let’s face it; if I was happy, I wouldn’t have been so excited to leave.”

“And you’re happy now?”

“I am. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”

It's a cheesy line, but true. She knew that when she said it, accepting the light teasing that followed with a smile. One that hadn’t left her face as she said goodbye to her mentor, one that grows as the song starts again. She can’t help how big her grin gets. This song always reminds her of Bradley.

“I'm in love, I'm alive. I belong to the stars and sky.”

Letting the song stay on repeat, Mary stops in the kitchen for some water on her way to the bedroom. It’s still early - not even eight yet - but a full night’s sleep is calling her name, eyelids feeling heavy.

She slips her clothes off, folding the jeans for tomorrow and tossing her shirt in the laundry. A small groan of relief accompanies the unclasping of her bra before she slings it into the hamper. Turning the bedroom speakers down slightly as she enters the bathroom, a grimace instantly creases her face when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

“Jesus…” Her disbelief echoes in the room as gentle fingers rub over the harsh red lines where her clothes dug into her skin. It’s evident where the waistband of her jeans sat all day. And the tender spots under her arms lets her know it’s time to look for better-fitting bras, again. Mary tugs the leg of her panties up, relieved to see at least one piece of clothing hasn’t left its mark.

She’s massaging the sore spots on her chest, letting her warm hands diminish the pain, when her phone rings. Her eyebrows furrow deeper at the unknown number flashing across the screen.

Usually, at this time of night, she’d ignore an unknown number and let the other person leave a voicemail, but something in her gut tells her to pick up before it’s too late.

“Hello?” There’s a muffled response, and she scrambles to disconnect her phone from the speakers. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Hello, ma’am. Can I speak to Mariella Vertucci?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Lieutenant Corso in the communications bay on the USS Roosevelt. Can you confirm your identity with your full name, birthday, and the eight-digit code given to you by Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?”

Mary’s heart stops for a second. This is it. Bradley is calling. She’s going to get to talk to him after forty-eight days. Hear his voice. See his face.

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry. Mariella Theresa Vertucci, born March 14, 1987. The code is 0125-2020.”

“Thank you, ma’am. One minute, please.” The soft clacking of a keyboard filters through the phone, the Lieutenant's tongue clicking as he types. “You’ve been verified. Does the phone you’re using have video chat capabilities.”

“It does, Lieutenant.”

“Excellent. Stay on the line, and in a few minutes, a video chat will come through with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. You have been allotted 30 minutes today. I am required to remind you that communication is not secure. This means, for security purposes, you cannot ask what time of day it is, what location, or how any missions have gone. Please confirm that you understand.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you. I am also required to let you know that this video chat is conducted in a private area and will not be monitored. However, the audio will be recorded, so any lewd acts are discouraged but not forbidden.”

Mary can’t help the snort that escapes. “But not forbidden?”

“Uh- the uh-” She smothers a chuckle at how the kid trips over his words. “The Navy understands that loved ones are apart for long periods of time and can’t forbid any uh- urges that couples may wish to act upon during their chats. But we are legally required to inform everyone of the recording.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“No problem, ma’am. Please stay on the line, and your loved one will be joining shortly.” She giggles at how quickly the hold music starts, humming along to Anchors Aweigh as she clips her hair up, ready to take her makeup off. She’s about to wet a washcloth when the music cuts, and the video call comes through.

Taking a second to look herself over, Mary admires the tendrils that have escaped, perfectly framing her cheeks that are still flushed from the wine she had with dinner. The slightest bit still tipsy and a little frazzled about Bradley, she realizes just in time that she’s still only in her underwear, hitting the accept button and dropping the phone on the counter.

“One second! Just- oh, come on! Fuck!” She curses under her breath as she struggles to slip into her bathrobe. “Hang on, Bradley!”

Finally getting both arms in, she ties the robe, eyebrows raising in surprise at how it cinches her waist, before eagerly grabbing her phone.

“Hi, Mary.”

“Hi, Bradley.”

She greedily drinks him in. It’s been 48 days since she’s seen his handsome face or heard his warm voice - the longest since they met - and she’s missed him. Her heart clenches at how tired he looks, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than ever.

“Hi, honey.” The sweet name hits something deep inside, and she can’t help the tears that immediately form or the way her bottom lip wobbles. “Oh, shit, Mary. Please don’t cry, honey.”

The emotional reaction surprises even her; she was expecting to be a bit overwhelmed, but nothing like this. It makes her feel a little ridiculous, crying about a man she’s barely even kissed. But you love him, her brain chimes in, sending more heat to her face.

“This is your uncle’s fault!” She laughs, swiping tears away and propping her phone against the mirror.

“Mav?”

She can’t help but giggle at his disbelieving tone as she reaches for a tissue. “No, Slider. He’s in town this week, and he may or may not - but definitely did - get me tipsy at dinner, like he always does!”

She trills on about dinner, telling him about the childhood stories that were shared and the baby photos that now live on her phone, not noticing the look on his face until he interrupts.

“You getting in the shower, Mary?”

The husky tone immediately grabs all of her attention, a shiver running down her spine at the smoldering look on Bradley’s face. She follows his eyes down, surprised to see how much her robe has come undone. The valley between her breasts is completely visible, and the fabric is threatening to expose her belly button - and more - if it’s not fixed.

“Oops…” She mumbles to herself, tightening the robe so much it pushes her cleavage together.

Normally, this is where her insecurities would ruin the moment - flooding her brain with terrible things. Make her spend the rest of the call analyzing how she looks in the tiny corner box, agonizing how prominent her double chin is from this angle. But the soft fuck that crackles through the phone squashes the anxieties before they can take root, shifting her attention to admire the man looking back at her.

And god, he is a man.

Bradley Bradshaw has always been gorgeous: tall, strong, and deliciously tan. But mid-deployment Bradley Bradshaw is a vicious attack to the senses. And the hormones.

His broad shoulders have gotten broader, filling the little privacy cubicle in the communications room so much that he’s brushing both sides of the walls. His curls are more golden than usual, clear evidence of time spent flying in the Pacific tropics. His tan is deeper, too, glowing even in the harsh florescent lighting, the bridge of his nose slightly sunburnt. His neatly trimmed mustache moves with his lush pink lips, warmth building in her core as her thoughts drift to the memory of how they felt pressed against hers.

“Mary?” She hums, eyes focusing back into the present and away from her favorite post-deployment reunion fantasy. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“You.”

It's clear he wasn’t expecting that answer from the way he drags a hand over his mouth to muffle a cruse, his eyes scrunching shut.

She wasn’t expecting it either; the effects of the wine have mostly worn off, leaving her with flushed cheeks and apparently a slightly looser tongue. She can’t bring herself to be embarrassed about the overly honest answer. Communicating exclusively via email for the last month and a half has allowed Mary to gain confidence in Bradley’s feelings. It’s hard to wonder about his intentions when every email ends with him telling her how many days are left until he’s home.

“Your lips…” She continues, emboldened as the last remnants of wine soften the sharp edges of her insecurities and the pink working its way up his neck. She loves how easily Bradley blushes for her. Their few kisses have always ended with his cheeks a lovely, rosy shade. “How soft your hair is. Your mustache. How strong you are. How much I miss you…”

The words make them both pause. It’s not an uncommon phrase, every email containing some variation of the sentiment, but hearing the words out loud makes it real. Cementing the longing in their chests.

“I miss you, too.” The words are quiet, echoing against the tiled walls. She chuckles, throat thick with emotion, and Bradley can’t look away from her soft smile. His heart pounding at the emotion on her face, something he can’t quite place. He can’t stop staring as she picks the phone up and flicks the light off, “Where are we going?”

“Couch.”

He smiles as the familiar walls of her living room appear, grin going slack when she props him up on the side table, and the slit of her robe reveals a thigh that he’s dreamt about as she shuffles pillows. Bradley manages to pull his mind out of his post-deployment fantasy as she plops on her couch - that damn pink couch - and smiles at him over the arm, her eyes almost closing she grins so hard.

“I’m sorry I missed our call.”

“It’s okay, Bradley. I knew it was a possibility, and Mav let me know what was going on. I understand.”

“I want to hear about your birthday.”

“I told you about my birthday! We’ve discussed it extensively.”

“I still want to hear about it. I want to hear your voice.” He revels as she softly whines and smooshes her face into a pillow, thrilled to cause that reaction. “C’mon, please, Mary?”

“You’re not fighting fair.” The muffled complaint comes back, making him laugh, but she does as asked.

Bradley listens, humming along as she recounts her birthday for him and insisting for the hundredth time that it was his pleasure to give her presents. He lets her lead the conversation as it shifts to what’s happening in San Diego, content to watch her as she shares stories of what he’s missing at home. Happy to just admire her and occasionally ask questions.

It’s so easy to get lost looking at her. Dark hair swishing around her shoulders, just slightly shorter than it was in February. Her brown eyes look darker than usual, the low light in the room making them almost black instead of the warm brown he’s used to staring into. And despite resecuring the robe, it’s coming loose again, enough that the top curve of her breasts are visible; freckles dotted all over, disappearing beneath the baby blue fabric. Bradley thinks about what it would be like to connect the dots on her soft skin, tracing invisible lines with his fingers or lips. He imagines there’s more hiding behind the waffle material. He wonders if she’d let him find out.

The fantasy of how wonderful it would be to memorize every mark on her body is interrupted as red nail polish grabs his attention. He loves her hands, smaller than his but so strong when she’s working on a jet. Steady as she calls out instructions to her team, grease smeared up to her elbows and her nail color of the week shining through the black sludge. Mary insists that she doesn’t talk with her hands, that she managed to avoid that stereotypical Italian-American trait, but Bradley smirks as her hands swirl through the air. He’s about to interrupt the story she’s giggling through - something about the latest swear word that Danielle accidentally taught Annie - when something sparkly on her finger distracts him.

A ring.

A diamond ring.

A simple silver band lined with tiny diamonds.

On her ring finger.

On her left ring finger.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to study the never-before-seen piece of jewelry. Mary must notice his confusion because she cuts her story off and flashes her hand at the camera. “I bought this for myself when I got promoted for the first time. I went from EI to EII, which is entry-level engineer to associate engineer. It was $50 from this little shop that was on the same block as my first solo apartment in St. Louis.”

Relief sweeps through his body, thrilled that Mary hadn’t gotten engaged with him.

“That’s awesome. Have you done that every time you’ve moved up?”

“Kinda? I always buy myself some sort of gift - last time, I splurged and got that big blender we used at the Christmas party. But I’ve only done jewelry a few times. I think I’m going to get a necklace next time, something to match this.” She explains, wiggling her fingers so the gems shimmer in the camera.

“It’s very pretty.” Bradley compliments, feeling bold enough to go further. “You look good with a ring on that finger.”

“Jesus, Brad-”

She’s cut off by the two-minute alert popping up. They had been so distracted they weren’t paying attention to the countdown timer.

“Already?” Mary pouts, forehead crinkling as she frowns. “But I didn’t get to ask you about carrier food.

“It’s bad, honey. Yours is so much better.”

“Or how you’re sleeping.”

“Reuben’s snoring has somehow gotten even louder since last time we shared a bunkroom; Bob, Mickey, and I owe you for the extra earplugs you sent.”

“You’re sunburnt.”

“I’m wearing the sunscreen you gave me; the sun is just strong.”

“I knew I should have sent the SPF 75!” Bradley smiles as Mary throws her head back in faux despair. “Oh well, now I know for next time, I guess.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah. You didn’t think I’d only send you a care package one time, did you? I gotta make sure you have everything you need. I know I missed some stuff this time, but I’ll get better in the future! I promise.”

I love you.

He just barely holds the words in.

“God, I fucking miss you.” He stares at the screen, watching the prettiest brown eyes in the world fill with tears at his words. “Oh, honey, please don’t cry. I’ll be home so soon.”

“But twenty-four days is such a long time, and I miss you so much.”

“I know, but we’ve already done 48 days. Twenty-four will be a breeze to get through.” The timer starts blinking, the last 60 seconds counting down. “I gotta get going, Mary. But you keep sending me flirty emails so I have something to read and think about.”

He chuckles at the little surprised noise she makes. “You noticed that?”

“Did I notice that? Mariella, in the kindest way, you are not subtle.”

“Well- I-” She splutters. “Neither are you!”

“I’m not trying to be, baby doll,” Bradley revels in her reaction to the pet name - mouth dropping open as she blinks at him, cheeks pinker than he’s ever seen - one he didn’t even mean to use.

The flustered hand she waves at the camera while yelling at him makes him laugh. “Bradley!”

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Be safe. Only 24 days.”

“Only 24 days.”

“I miss you, handsome.”

Bradley's face feels hot, choked up at the look in her eyes, the softness of her words. “I miss you, too, baby doll.”

They don’t say goodbye, choosing to admire each other as the final seconds tick away.

5…

I can’t wait to see you in person.

4…

God, you’re so gorgeous.

3…

I don’t want to hang up.

2…

I miss you.

1…

I love you.

if you would like to be added (or removed) from the tag list please send an ask!

fic tag | credit for dividers here

#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster imagine #DSS universe #MM fic #mar[r]y me fic #elle writes

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phantomsthought · 3 months ago

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“ She was the sun itself. “

Pining between two wardens. Pt 1, the next part will be Rooks POV <3 An oc writing

Rook Thorne (Dawn) x Davrin

Davrin had heard of Warden Thorne, who made a reckless decision against direct orders so she could seal the tunnel to the deep roads, and save innocent lives. She was popular amount young recruits, and he’d met her while taking his oath. A blonde elf girl, taller than him then, all cheeky grins and laughter. Bandages covered her left eye, however her right was a beautiful amber that shimmered when the sun hit it. They spoke, briefly. How she had gone through the joining because of a rough situation with a lot of darkspawn. However he’d.. never caught her name. A fact that disappointed him. He caught it later from the giddy new recruits.

Dawn Thorne.

Davrin never thought he would encounter her again. The life of a Grey Warden was demanding and merciless, unpredictable. So he was more than shocked when he found the blonde girl— woman, now— standing in his camp with Assan staring at her with narrowed eyes. She looked different now, but similar in some ways.

Her hair was shorter, but wavy and the color matched the gentle golden sun rays that kissed her skin. Her left eye was a white-pinkish color, clouded over, with rough claw like scars across it, though her right eye was as striking as it had been the first time he’d seen it. Her cheeks were rosy and freckled, her valaslin starting at her forehead and running down the bridge of her nose. Her eyes twinkled with vague recognition, her brows furrowing slightly as he called Assan back to his side as he glanced towards the black haired Antivan man standing to the side, who he assumed was her companion. Buddy system, and what not.

His first time hearing Dawn referred to as ‘Rook’ was strange, when he looked at her with confusion she met his gaze and shrugged. “A friend came up with it. I think in straight lines and hit hard. Or something.” She laughed— a warm laugh that came from the heart. He liked it, the corners of his lips curling up as she added “I wouldn’t know. I don’t play chess much.”

He was the only one that knew her name. Rook was a title. It had the whole weight of the world on her shoulders. But whenever he laughed, making a sarcastic quip, and looked at her, asking “Right Dawn?” her shoulders, taut, dropped slightly. Her smile warmed, her eyes glittered with something he couldn’t quite name.

He never expected to get so attached to her. It started slow, small. Davrin started to notice the things that no one else did— took note of them. When she was feeling playful, gossiping or simply joking between the others, she would twirl her blonde hair around her index finger. Dawn would scrunch up her nose when she smelled cioccolata calda or something she particularly enjoyed being made in the kitchen. When she was overwhelmed with laughter she gently hit the persons next to her shoulder, or leaned into them as if she were unable to stand up from how hilarious she found something.

He noticed how Dawn didn’t like to not look at someone when they spoke. She was trying to make sure they knew she was listening, nodding slightly and letting out little hums once in a while. When she was focused, she would hum more, making soft little noises as she sorted her thoughts together. He’d asked her what she was doing as she tinkered with some magical project, and she motioned towards it (something she did a lot too- waving her hands when she spoke) “It’s eh.. a project I started a while ago. I wanted to see if I could mmhh…” she waved her hand in a circular motion as she thought of the word. “Make it bigger? Better? Improve it.” She found the words, finally. Dawn shrugged “just for fun.” Usually she spoke confidently, words chosen quickly and carefully. However when she was in a relaxed setting her voice was softer, she stuttered and made replacement noises when she was unsure of the words to use. He preferred her that way.

And then he noticed smaller things. The fact that she had a mole on the corner of her right eye, and one on the left corner of her lips. The freckles on her wrist formed a little triangle, the birthmark on the back of her neck he’d caught sight of when she was curled up in the lighthouse, hair up (which was a rare instance), and sketching. He remembers asking Dawn to show him her drawings and she did so happily, shuffling closer to him, shoulder pressed against his as she flipped through them.

Davrin adored her, and her throwaway flirty jokes. The way she warmed any room she entered, the sun brightening to greet her, to kiss her freckled cheeks to welcome her in. He had fallen for her and he had no idea he’d done it until he had fallen into right her arms.

Davrin sat in the chair before the fireplace within his room, and he had Dawn there with him. At first she was wandering around, examining his wooden projects. Next she had perched on his work bench as they chatted, gossip and what was for dinner. Then she’d sat on the armrest of his chair, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. It was not enough to know she was there, he had to hold her, as he so often wanted to do as soon as she’d hugged him for the first time. Dawn had shifted, legs across his lap, sitting on the armrest, her arms around his shoulders.

Dawn pulled him into her chest, one of her scarred hands resting gently against the back of his neck, her thumb rubbing up and down against his skin absentmindedly. She smelled of vanilla, sandalwood, and something citrus-y. Oranges— she loved oranges. She snacked on them constantly. She smelled like the sunshine itself. And she was just as warm as the sun itself, comforting and gentle, it was hard not to feel at ease in her arms. Hard not to..

“Dav?” Dawn called out softly, shifting to get a look at her fellow warden against her chest. His eyes had fluttered shut, his breathing slower, however his grip around her was just as firm, locking her in place. He hummed as he heard her voice. He would describe it as angelic— light and calm, sweet and soft, like honey. He was horribly, and deeply, in love with her, and he was coming to that realization rather quickly as he looked up at her, her lips quirked up in an amused smile. “You’re falling asleep. Feeling sleepy?” Dawn asked playfully, gently poking his cheek.

He chuckled faintly, trying to get away from her prodding at his face, leaning deeper into her. “Not at all. What gave you that idea?” Davrin murmured. He felt her chuckle bubble up in her chest as she gently squeezed him.

“Hmm. You’re a poor liar, you know that?” Dawn teased. She shifted slightly, worried he was straining his neck even if he was the most comfortable he’d ever been. He sighed as if the movement irritated him, holding her tighter so she’d stop wiggling. Once she’d settled again he loosened his grip around her waist, and he felt her lips press against his temple. A feeling he’d only dreamt of.

Oh he was a lovesick fool, but she was no better, a tender, softer smile on her lips as she looked down at him. “Sleep. You deserve it.” She murmured against his temple. Davrin hummed contently, burying himself into her further— which at this point was impossible as he allowed her warmth to lull him closer, and closer to the dreaming.

Davrin could live in this moment forever. He wished he could. He wished time would stop, and Dawn would murmur gentle words to him in an attempt to help him fall asleep, forever. He could bask in the suns light- her light- forever.

#dragon age #dragon age veilguard #oc #rook thorne #rook oc #davrin #davrin dragon age

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courtana · 10 months ago

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ship meme

tagged by: @marivenah and @alexxmason – thanks friends!! 🫶🏼

Rules: bold the themes that apply to your ship, and italicize the theme if it’s one-sided, within your story.

BEATRICE WYATT x JOHN-117 [HALO]

height difference / mutual pining / first kiss / wedding / in-jokes / lgbtq+ / family disapproves / would die for each other / would kill for each other / fake relationship / arranged wedding / cuddlers / pda friendly / and they were roommates / holding hands / secret relationship / opposing worldviews / getting a pet / have kids / want kids / grow old together [343 please don't kill him off thanks] / relationship failures / rests head on shoulder/ share a bed / relationship doubts / they have a song / first date / sharing a blanket / mutual interests / study buddies / bathing together / crash into hello / accidental nudity / laundry / same hobbies / cooking for each other / big fancy gala / forehead touches / hair stroking / sitting on each other’s laps / sexual tension / can’t be together / battle couple / Friends to Lovers / Enemies to Lovers / Lovers to Enemies / keeping secrets / love after loss / exes / declaration of love / flirting / love triangle / destructive romance / envy / “I Don’t Want to Ruin Our Friendship” / shared values / slow burn / does not end well / happily ever after [glares at 343] / love letters

MÓNICA LINARES x RUSSELL ADLER [BOCW]

height difference / mutual pining / first kiss / wedding / in-jokes / lgbtq+ / family disapproves / would die for each other / would kill for each other / fake relationship / arranged wedding / cuddlers / pda friendly / and they were roommates / holding hands / secret relationship / opposing worldviews / getting a pet / have kids / want kids / grow old together / relationship failures / rests head on shoulder/ share a bed / relationship doubts / they have a song / first date / sharing a blanket / mutual interests / study buddies / bathing together / crash into hello / accidental nudity / laundry / same hobbies / cooking for each other / big fancy gala / forehead touches / hair stroking / sitting on each other’s laps / sexual tension / can’t be together / battle couple / Friends to Lovers / Enemies to Lovers / Lovers to Enemies / keeping secrets / love after loss / exes / declaration of love / flirting / love triangle / destructive romance / envy / “I Don’t Want to Ruin Our Friendship” / shared values / slow burn / does not end well / happily ever after / love letters

tagging:

@sergeiravenov @collinnmckinley @frankwoods @carlosoliveiraa @queennymeria

@shaxxuality @crosshairswife @thedeadthree @ncytiri and whoever else has OCs and/or ships or wants to do this lmao [also if you don't want me to tag you in this stuff, just dm me <3]

#also mónica finally has a surname lmao #oc: mónica linares #oc: beatrice wyatt #beatrice and john are the perfect example of respecting boundaries and listening to each other... a healthy relationship #and then mónica and adler are the total opposite 😭#mine: OCs

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walker-bait-1973 · 1 year ago

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8 Years Part One

Photo Edit by Me

A Daryl Dixon/ Sybil Tremont Fanfiction (Daryl x OC)

Background information: It’s assumed the reader knows the world of TWD. This Fanfic takes place after Alexandria, Hilltop, Oceanside, and the Kingdom are established and at the height of success. Carl is dead. The communities are bound by a doctrine created by Michonne. Rick is presumed dead. Daryl and Michonne never lost hope and searched for several years for Rick without luck. Daryl had a short relationship with Leah. The Saviors disbanded with Negan in a jail cell in Alexandria. The Whisperers have been defeated, and Lydia is a valued member of the Hilltop homestead.

18+

Daryl x OC (Female)

Warnings: Violence, Alcohol, Slow Burn, Fluff, Smut

Part Two

Master List

Chapter 1: Caramel

The summer of 1990 was a record-breaker for heat. The sun shone brighter than ever by early June. While people around Atlanta were finding ways to keep cool, Merle Dixon along with his younger brother Daryl, and their motorcycle gang pulled into the local 7-11 to get some ice-cold brews. They were headed to Pine Lake for a party. Merle and two of his buddies went inside for drinks.

“Hey Merle, get some snacks too!” Daryl yelled after him. Merle shot him the middle finger, laughed, and went inside. Daryl lit up a cigarette. As he listened to the group talking and laughing, a small group of young ladies walked past them. Daryl’s attention averted to have a gander at these five women. One, in particular, stood out to him. She was a curvaceous woman, with an ample chest, wide hips, and thick thighs. Her long ebony curls bounced in a neat ponytail as she walked in flip-flops with painted red toenails. She was wearing a pair of cut-off blue jean shorts that hugged her apple-shaped bottom. Her skin was a delicious shade of caramel, tanned from the hot sun no doubt. Her red halter top complimented the shade well. As she passed him he said, “Hot day.”

She nodded curtly, eyeing the pale-skinned man in the grey tank top as her friends giggled and they went into the store. She stopped for a moment to look over her shoulder at him, “You better watch yourself, you’re gonna get burned.”

He smiled slyly and playfully smacked Terry in the chest as the automatic door swung shut, “damn!”

“She’s outta your league, Daryl.” Terry chuckled as Daryl rubbed his dirty blonde goatee. He was already plotting what to do next.

“Naw… she ain’t.” He took a breath before heading into the convenience store himself. Terry looked at Buck and sniggered.

Inside, Daryl could hear Merle’s loud voice back by the beer cooler laughing with Sam and Joe. He casually walked down one aisle with low shelves, spying on the girls over by the Slurpee machine comparing flavors. He paused by the snacks and perused the various chips, raising his eyes often to watch the girls as they laughed and poured themselves the thick icy beverage. He glanced back praying his brother wouldn’t come up while he made his move. He walked to the girls and said, “Hey, ‘s y’ flavor?”

“Caramel” sucked slowly on her straw before saying, “Cherry.” A pair of large green eyes framed with long lashes lifted to look at him. He felt his insides turn to mush, as a boyish grin crossed his face.

He followed her outside and as she started walking away with her friends he called out, “’s yer name?”

Looking over her rounded shoulder, “Sybil.”

From that moment on, he was hooked.

Chapter 2: The Receipt

Alexandria

Daryl rolled over, restless in his bed. He heard footsteps thudding on the basement ceiling. Judith and RJ must be over for breakfast. He sat up, Dog instantly licking his face.

“Down, boy…” he grunted. Dog jumped to the floor and waited patiently by the back door for his morning walk. Daryl shirked into some clothes, donned his boots, and opened the door. Dog ran out into the dew-covered grass behind the house to do his duties. Daryl whistled, beckoning for Dog to join him as he walked down the road toward the Alexandria main gate.

Rosita and Aaron were up on the platform, keeping watch for possible trouble.

“Good Morning, Daryl!” Aaron called out. Daryl waved quietly and moved along, toward the community center where many of the residents chose to eat together. He walked in, nabbed a fresh loaf of bread, and returned to Carol’s house.

“Good morning Uncle Daryl!” Judith exclaimed running to him as soon as he closed the door.

“Mornin’ Jude,” he answered as she hugged him around the waist. He put his arms around her shoulders and hugged her in return. RJ joined them and gave Daryl a high five.

“Come on, Judith… RJ… let’s get you fed before classes.”

“Y’ heard Aunt Carol… c’mon and get to the table.” Daryl grabbed a knife and started cutting up the bread for toast. Carol served the kids fresh scrambled eggs, apple slices, and orange juice. They munched on the yummy food while Carol poured Daryl his first cup of coffee. He leaned against the counter sipping it, his mind wandering.

He went weeks before he saw Sybil again. This time, she was at a grocery store as a cashier. What luck Daryl had! He spotted her immediately as he carried the armloads of food to the register. He decided to go through her line, affording him a great opportunity to talk to her again.

“Have a nice day,” she was saying as she handed the receipt over to the customer in front of him.

He scratched the back of his neck as she started cashing him out, “find everything you were looking for?” She lifted her eyes, a smile on her face, dimples adorning her cheeks.

“Naw…”

“No? Is there something I can help you with?”

“Sure. Y’all could give me y’ number.”

She chuckled, “You’re mighty confident.”

“’ Member me?”

“Not sure that I do,” she replied, toying with him. There was no way Sybil could forget those deep-set blue eyes and that handsome face.

“I can make it so y’ never f’get me again.” He leaned on the conveyor belt, stopping it.

“Oh yeah?”

There was a line forming behind him.

“You’re right I’ll never forget you if you get me fired,” she feigned being cross.

“Give me y’ number an’ I’ll pay m’ total.”

“I don’t even know your name,” she said, “that will be twenty-eighty-seven.”

He pulled out thirty bucks. When she returned his change, she handed him his receipt.

“Daryl. M’ name’s Daryl.”

She smirked, “have a nice day, Daryl.”

He grabbed his bag, frowning. As he put his change in his pocket, he realized she’d written a phone number on the back of the receipt.

She winked at him and started on her next customer’s order.

“… Daryl?”

Daryl looked up from his mug at Carol, “Huh?”

“I asked what your plans were for today. Where were you just now?”

He shook his head, “Nowhere. ‘M thinkin’ of takin’ a ride t’ Hilltop.”

“Yeah? If so, could you take a few things for me? I made Maggie some curtains for Hershel’s room in the Barrington House, and there are some parts that Eugene needs for the radio.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, get t’ stuff t’gether n’ I’ll take it w’ me.”

He took a plate of eggs and set it on the floor for Dog. Dog chowed down while Daryl munched on a piece of toast.

“Alright, go get washed up and Uncle Daryl will walk you to school on his way out.”

“Okay,” Judith looked at her younger brother, “get your stuff.”

Once Daryl delivered the kids to class, he and Dog ambled to the gate where Carol was waiting for him. He shouldered his pack and strapped the box of things to take down on his motorcycle. Carol squeezed his shoulder, “You have a safe trip, okay? Tell everyone I say hello. Oh, and I nearly forgot. Judith wrote Hershel a letter.” She slipped it into his hand. Daryl smiled.

“I’ll make sure he gets it.”

Chapter 3: Lending A Hand

Hilltop

Daryl sped into Hilltop, Dog in tow, and parked close to the barn. He got several waves from various community members and was warmly greeted by Maggie. She wrapped her arms around him for a big hug, “Been a long time, stranger,” she remarked, squeezed his shoulder, and knelt to pet Dog.

“Too long,” Daryl confessed, nodding in acknowledgment toward Jesus and Tara.

“Damn right it’s been too long,” Tara piped up, “tell us, what’s everyone been up to?”

“Y’ know,” he shrugged, “same old. Ain’t much t’ tell.” He patted his jacket pocket, “Got somethin’ f’ Hershel though.” He pulled out the envelope and handed it to Maggie.

“A letter from Judith?” She ran her fingers over the front of the makeshift envelope.

“Mhm. Seems they’re becomin’ pretty good pen pals,” He smiled.

“They are. It won’t be long, they’ll be on the radio talkin’. I think Hershel has a lil’ crush,” Maggie’s toothy grin spread.

Daryl grunted, “I got stuff f’ Eugene too.”

“He’s up in the attic monkeying with things, I’ll run it up to him,” Jesus said knowing full well how Eugene liked to talk people’s ears off, and Daryl was more of a quiet man.

“Thanks f’ that,” Daryl remarked looking around, “Where’s Connie?”

“She’s at Oceanside with Kelly and Luke. I know you’re disappointed,” Maggie teased.

“I’ll catch her soon ‘nough.” He shrugged, “’m here now. What can I do t’ help out?”

“We have a few cabins to build. Wanna help with that?”

“Sure,” he nodded, walking with Maggie to the area of expansion past the orchards. He was greeted by Alden, one of the blacksmiths, who was delivering a box of nails.

“Daryl, good to have you here,” Alden smiled, handing him a hammer.

“Jus’ tell me where t’ go.”

He pointed to one of the cabins already in progress. Daryl joined in immediately. As he worked with the others, it wasn’t long before he was sawing logs, roofing, and throwing himself into the job at hand. Daryl didn’t mind hard work. When the frame of the cabin was finished, he felt a sense of accomplishment and moved onto the exterior walls.

When he paused to take a cigarette break, he spotted Lydia making her way over to him. She had a wide smile on her face, her long black hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. Elijah was holding her hand, the same goofy smile on his face. Daryl smirked. Young’uns.

“We brought you some water. You’ve been working hard,” Lydia handed him a canteen.

“Thanks,” he said, swishing the cold liquid in his mouth. Felt cool and refreshing on this warm Spring day.

“We were going to head to Alexandria for a visit, but now seeing as you’re here, we won’t leave until you do. If you don’t mind.”

“Naw could use the company,” he answered, patting her shoulder.

“Great! I miss everyone. And I wanted to see Negan.”

Frowning, “What y’ need t’ see him for? He ain’t no good, Lydia.”

“I know his past, and I know how you feel about him-”

“You don’t know all ‘bout that sumbitch.” Daryl never talked with anyone in his family about what transpired when he was held prisoner at Negan’s compound, Sanctuary. Tortured, starved, stripped down for humiliation…

“I suppose I don’t. But he stuck up for me when those kids attacked me. If it weren’t for him, I might not be here. I don’t need you to understand it, but I won’t sneak around to talk to him.”

Daryl had to give her credit for being so upfront about her connection with Negan. It was true that he helped her one night when three members of Alexandria ganged up on her. It was also true that one ended up dead at Negan’s hand. It was an accident, but with Negan’s history, it nearly got him lynched.

“I don’t understand it, an’ I don’t like it. But I ain’t gonna stop ya.”

That’s one thing Lydia admired about Daryl – he didn’t treat her like a little girl. He talked to her as if she was an adult, and she respected that. Too many people tried to treat her like a child. She was seventeen, and beyond her years in many ways.

Daryl tossed her back the canteen, “Back t’ work. Y’ know, y’all could help out. Get done a lot faster.”

“I can swing a hammer,” Elijah smirked, “I’m gonna help out.”

“I’ve got some other things to do, but then I’ll be back over.” Lydia kissed Elijah before leaving. Elijah blushed and cleared his throat.

“C’mon,” Daryl spoke up, “ ‘s getcha that hammer.”

Chapter 4: First Date

(One Week Later) Daryl drove up to the house where Sybil lived. Already outside, she’d been waiting for him. She laughed when he turned off his motorcycle.

“I just knew you were going to show up on that thing.”

Daryl looked down at the bike, “’s my ride.”

She nodded, “Oh yeah… it’s your ride alright. I’ve never been on one before.”

“Well, y’all will have the time o’ yer life then.” He smiled. She walked over in a pair of tight-fitted jeans, her hips swaying practically mesmerizing him.

“Interesting way to start a first date,” She commented, sliding on behind him. Her hands went to his waist, clutching tight as he kicked the motor on and took off down the street.

“Shouldn’t we have helmets?” She called into the wind. Daryl swung the bike onto the main road.

“Naw… yer fine.”

She laughed, “As I said before, you’re mighty confident.”

Daryl enjoyed the feeling of her behind him, her hands tightening their grip. He lowered his left hand and pulled one of her arms around him tighter.

“You’re bold,” she remarked, but slid her other arm around, locking her hands in front of his stomach.

“So are ya.”

They drove along Pine Lake, one of the first places he could think of to take her. When they got off the bike she said, “You’ve got me alone, in the woods. Should I be afraid?”

“I didn’t keep y’ alive on that bike only t’ kill ya in the woods,” He smirked. She laughed. It was music to his ears; so light and genuine.

“Been t’ Pine Lake ‘fore?”

“Oh yes. This is the main hang-out spot. You?”

“Come here a bit.”

They walked a trail along the east side of the lake, quiet at first.

“So that gang you’re with…” she finally cut the silence as she studied the trees, “been with them long?”

Daryl shrugged, “yeah. They’re kinda family. My big brother Merle started hangin’ out w’ some guys an’ it went from there.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Just one,” he teased.

“Ha ha,” she rolled her eyes.

“’ Bout twenty or so. Why?”

She shrugged, “Just curious.”

She pulled a leaf off a branch and twirled it between her fingers.

“Y’ thinkin’ ‘m gonna be trouble?”

“I don’t know… are you?”

“Maybe,” he stopped walking and pointed, “look,” he whispered, “a doe.”

She squinted, “Where?”

He extended his arm with his fingertip pointing, “Between them two birch trees. See her?”

After a few moments, Sybil smiled brightly, “I do. She’s beautiful. You have a keen eye.”

Daryl shrugged, “maybe.”

“Do you spend a lot of time in the woods?”

“Quite a bit. How ‘bout ya?”

“I love nature, but no… I haven’t been camping since I was a kid.”

“Yer missin’ out.”

“I suppose I am.”

“C’mon, I wanna show y’ somethin’.”

“Okay.”

They continued casually down the trail until he veered off it, onto an unbeaten path.

“Okay, now I know you’re going to kill me,” she teased.

“C’mon,” he rolled his eyes. They came to some tall rocks, “Up f’ a lil’ climbin’?”

Hands on hips she looked up at the rocks, “Should I have worn hiking boots?”

“Naw… them shoes are fine.”

She looked down at her vans and was thankful she’d chosen them.

“Alright. Let’s go. Show me the way.”

“It ain’t gonna be as hard as it looks. Found an easy way to get up there.” He motioned for her to follow. He went around the right-hand side of the stone goliaths.

“See here,” he pointed in front of him and upward, “almost like someone made a trail in them rocks.”

“They look like they have stepping stones cut into them.”

He started up the incline, turning around every so often to make sure she was still behind him. She was eagerly bringing up the rear, keeping close.

“’s is the hard part,” he said, reaching for her hand, “lemme help y’ up the rest o’ the way.”

She took his hand and he pulled just enough to get her over the final ledge. She took a breath and looked down behind her whistling, “We are up high.”

He nodded, “Higher than it looks from down there.”

She noticed a singed area and a pile of wood.

“You come here often?”

He nodded, “’s m’ place t’ getaway. C’mere… an’ look.”

She joined him on the opposite side of the rocks and looked out. What a sight to behold. She could see the large lake in its entirety from this vantage point, and the multitude of trees on the other side. The sun was bright in the sky. She felt as if she could reach out and touch it. The rays warmed her face. She turned to look at Daryl. His blue eyes were studying her, gauging her reaction. The humongous smile on her face was enough for him. He was convinced that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

Daryl rolled to his side and stared into the darkness inside the hay mound sighing. He didn’t sleep much, to begin with. And even less since the world fell. Thinking of her made it near impossible. He sat up while Dog rustled through the hay to rest his head in Daryl’s lap. He brusquely pet the dog's head. Dog whined. He’d been with Daryl so long that he could read his emotions.

“S’ alright, boy. ‘ll get through it. Always do.” He got to his feet, stretched, and said, “C’mon. ‘S go f’ a walk.” Daryl and Dog made their rounds, checking the sentinels on the wall, joining them for a bit to watch for walkers or marauders.

“You’re up early,” Cal commented, shaking out his foot that fell asleep.

Daryl shrugged, “Always am. Don’t need much sleep.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Dixon,” Cal continued.

Diane looked over at the two men, “Be thankful Daryl doesn’t sleep much. He’s saved a lot of our asses more than once because of it.”

Cal knew it was true and agreed, “Oh I know he has. It’s just when I manage to have some time to rest, I conk out. Sometimes for half a day.”

People meandered about as the sun rose, and Daryl found himself back to work at the cabins.

“You know, there’s always one of those here for you,” Jesus said, holding up a board to be nailed.

Daryl said, “Hate t’ take a place from someone else. I don’t mind the hay mound or a tent. ‘M easy.”

“So have you completely set down roots in Alexandria?”

Daryl shrugged, “Dunno if I set roots down anywhere.” The truth was the man had huge bouts of wanderlust and couldn’t sit still for too long before needing to be out in the wild again. He went with Aaron sometimes to look for more people to bring back to the communities. He brought messages from one community to the next. He also liked to provide food, go on scavenging runs; anything to keep himself busy.

People that knew him knew he was this way. They noticed a big change when Rick infamously blew up the bridge that was to connect everyone to save his people.

Daryl disappeared for three years. During his search for Rick, he met a woman by the name of Leah. No one knew about the affair he’d had with her except Carol. Dog had discovered an old house that seemed abandoned one day during their travels. But it wasn’t empty. That’s when he found an ornery woman living there that didn’t want him anywhere around her land. After about a year they began to talk, her more than him, and in a few more months they shared food. After that Daryl realized how lonely he was; one thing led to another and the two became involved. It didn’t last long. Daryl pulled away for several reasons: he wanted to continue looking for Rick, and he couldn’t allow himself to feel what he once felt for Sybil. When he was with Leah, she knew he was far away in his mind: thinking about his brother, and she had no idea what else. He couldn’t open up to her. That took years and trust. Something he knew he could never have with her. She put conditions on him and gave him ultimatums.

“It’s your brother or me.”

“It’s your family or me.” He was not a man who responded well to conditions. He wasn’t about to choose a woman that wanted all or nothing. So he walked away, never looking back.

Chapter 5: The Race

After two weeks of working on cabins, several were finished thanks to the hard labor everyone put in. Daryl wanted to reward them all with some venison, so he decided he’d head out before the light of day to hunt.

Dog stayed in step with Daryl as they silently made their way through the forest. He’d seen deer droppings which decided the direction they would go. Tell-tale signs of a foraging deer were seen everywhere if you were observant enough. Daryl was a master of tracking. He held his breath as soon as he saw the three-point, lifted his crossbow, aimed, and fired. The arrow hit its mark between the front shoulder and the ribcage, piercing the heart. The deer dropped where it stood, feeling no pain. Just the way Daryl liked it. No suffering.

He set to work right away field dressing the internal organs before he heard the groans of Walkers coming from the left.

“Shit,” he muttered, hefting the deer over his shoulders, “c’mon Dog,” he called, quickly making his exit. The organs would keep the few Walkers busy. At least enough for him to get safely away.

He returned at dusk with his prize, congratulated by many, and thanked personally by Maggie.

“Can’t have them people be veg’tarians,” Daryl teased, taking it to hang out back.

“Oh no, too many vegetables will make the people weak,” Maggie teased. Daryl eyed her between his curtains of bangs, a smirk on his face.

“They’ll appreciate it to be sure. We can do a lot with poultry and beef…”

“But there ain’t nothin’ like venison,” he cut in.

She nodded, “Right.”

They heard kids laughing and spotted Hershel and the other kids playing with Dog. Dog of course loved all the attention.

“Seems good to have them bein’ kids, huh?” Maggie asked, sighing. She had to dig deep to remember the days of misspent youth and no fear. Riding horses with her sister Beth, playing in the fields, and nights catching fireflies.

Daryl nodded as he shoved his bloodied hands into a basin of water, “Mhm… they ain’t had it so good, growin’ up too fast ‘cause t’ way t’ world turned out.” He dried his clean hands on a rag and watched the kids for a bit, a small smile on his face.

“Can’t catch me dog,” Marigold yelled out, her laugh echoing through the trees.

(August) ”You’ll never catch me, Daryl!” Sybil yelled, swimming faster out towards the floating dock in the middle of the lake. Daryl however was an experienced swimmer and was soon closing in on her. The thrill of the chase caused Sybil to start laughing and slowed her down in speed. Daryl slowed his pace, waiting for her to gain her wits and start moving faster again. Soon her hands were touching the dock.

“Damn, y’ got away,” he said, holding the edge of the dock with his hands. She splashed him playfully.

“I know you let me win.”

“Did no such thing.”

She giggled, “Okay… deny it all you want.” She caressed his damp cheek, “I’ll still give you your reward,” she moved closer and kissed his wet lips before pulling up onto the dock. Daryl could feel his stomach flip flop and his heart quicken in reaction to her affection. It was their first kiss. His cheeks reddened and he pulled up onto the dock next to her, their feet dangling in the water. He’d been pursuing her avidly for several months. His first thoughts of just wanting to bed the woman passed once he realized there was so much more to her than just a beautiful body. She had spunk, a clever mind, and kept him on his toes. He’d never met anyone like her before. Sybil seemed to enjoy her time with him, and this kiss just solidified what he was hoping for. He knew that other guys were trying to get her attention, he wasn’t blind. But the more she accepted offers of dates from him, the less concerned he became with them.

She laid back on the dock, the sun’s rays kissing her wet skin. Her hair spread out above her head like a dark halo. Her red one-piece showed plenty but left just the right amount covered to let the imagination run wild.

Daryl chewed his lip for a moment, “Sybil…”

“Mhm?” She hummed, shielding her eyes from the bright sky as she looked his way.

“’S a band playin’ at a bar next weekend. A local band… thought maybe y’all would like t’ go.”

“What kind of music?” she asked him curiously.

“Heavy stuff. Ain’t no room for country shit.”

She grinned, “You’ve got yourself a plus one then. I think it would be a lot of fun.” The idea of being squished in close to her was on his mind. He was still a man after all.

“Rememberin’ the good old days?” Maggie asked. Daryl stopped chewing his lip.

“Gonna go find somethin’ t’ do.”

Chapter 6: Scavenging Parts

“Hey, Daryl…” Jesus caught up with the archer after morning chores, “Eugene needs some parts for the solar panel he’s been working on and gave me directions to a place he thinks I can find those parts. Wanna ride with me, help me out?”

Daryl nodded as he finished brushing a horse down, “be ready in a few. Lemme finish up here.”

Jesus drove fast down the road. Daryl stared at the directions, “A bullfrog’s hop t’ the right of a… what t’ hell is this?” He asked, scratching his head.

Jesus laughed, “It’s directions. Eugene wrote them.”

“F’ fuck’s sake. Two leagues past the old maple tree… ‘s a million maple trees out here!” He threw the instructions on the dashboard. Jesus smirked, “Don’t kill me. I wrote those just to tease you.”

“You bastard,” Daryl huffed, but smiled in the end, “figures. Where’s them directions at?”

Jesus pulled a paper out of his front pocket, “Here.”

Daryl read them quickly, “’s more like it.”

When they rolled up to the old rusty warehouse, Jesus cut the engine and looked over the list Eugene had given him. Daryl got out and started scouting for Walkers, and anyone else who happened along the way. He and Jesus cleared out a small group of the dead before breaking the chain lock on the door to head inside. Pigeons flew in the disturbed air kicking up dust and dirt. The men covered their mouths, Daryl quickly pulling his rag from his back pocket. He tied it over the bottom half of his mouth. Both were silent as the grave as they passed through the large building in search of any trespassers alive, or undead. Once they were certain it was empty, they set out to find each of the things Eugene wanted. It took longer than they expected since neither knew where to start. Searching boxes, and reading labels… they’d found two of the five things before dark.

“Looks like we’ll be staying the night,” Jesus huffed, wiping the dust from his hands onto his pants.

“Mhm,” Daryl lowered his backpack and brought out some salted dried venison, doling out some pieces to Jesus.

“Thanks,” Jesus said as they sat on the cold cement floor.

As they settled in for the night, Daryl volunteered to keep a watch out.

“T’morrow we hit them boxes upstairs. Can’t see shit now.”

“Agreed. I didn’t think this would be a two-day trip. I’ll just catch a few winks.”

(1 Year Later) “Sybil, get on over here, woman!” Daryl had called out over the heavy strains of guitar on the jukebox to his girl.

Sybil’s green eyes danced with merriment as she set her beer on the bar and made her way over to the young man who beckoned her. She laughed as he snaked his arms around her waist.

His nose brushed against her ear as he said, “Dance w’ me.” As if she was ever interested in dancing with someone else. She slid her palms flat against his chest as they moved to their own beat. It certainly didn’t match the fast drum solo in the Motorhead song. But finding their way to sway their bodies together had never been a problem. They began to sweat there under the hot lights, their friends milling around them. Some were dancing, others playing pool, and still, some just drinking and sharing conversation.

Daryl’s brother Merle was leaning on his old lady, licking salt from her neck as he downed another shot of tequila. He followed up with a lemon wedge from her cleavage as his loyal gang cheered him on.

“ ‘s get outta here,” Daryl said into Sybil’s ear, “ ‘s gonna get crazy t’night.”

“It’s well on its way,” she said, gripping his hand. They made a quick exit and soon were taking off on his bike. The wind whipped through Sybil’s untethered hair. The exhilaration from the cool air and the feel of her cheek against his back were enough to make Daryl giddy. He pulled up to her apartment and as he walked her to the door she stopped, key in her hand.

“We’ve been seeing each other for a while now,” she spoke up, her eyes staring into his, “and you’ve been good to me, Daryl. Come inside. I want you to stay the night.”

His jaw twitched. He’d been excited for this moment, he wouldn’t deny it. But now that it was here, he felt a sense of pride. He’d spent his time getting to know her. There was still so much to learn. And tonight would be another lesson in the ways of Sybil.

There was no small talk as her roommates were already in their respective rooms sleeping. He hadn’t been in the apartment at night unless there was a crowd of sorority sisters having a party. He and Sybil preferred being out of the house and hanging out with his gang often. She closed her room door there in the dark and turned on a dim lamp next to the bed.

She smiled at him, walking close, her hands caressing either side of his face as they began to kiss passionately. His palms rested on the flat of her back, rubbing slowly up and down as their mouths opened to explore like so many times before. It was more intense though, with pure need behind each tongue lashing and twisting together. A small groan lifted from his throat as she stepped back from him. They stared at one another, the soft glow from the light accentuating her features. The shadows delved into her curves and along the line of her legs.

“Help me out of this skirt, will you, Daryl?”

Daryl heard a noise that caught his attention. He went to investigate but seeing that it was a raccoon he shooed it away before walking the interior of the building alone. He placed a cigarette to his dry lips and lit it. Staring out one of the wide warehouse windows, he saw a few Walkers milling about near the truck. He puffed out some smoke and moved on toward the opposite end.

Sybil was more amazing than he could’ve imagined. Her body was perfection to him, and as she lifted on top of him, her hair swung down her back. He tangled his fingers into it before rubbing down around her ass while she ground her hips on top of him. He breathed as if through honey, labored, and sweet. As she rubbed his chest, a little pout curled on her lips as she neared the height of pleasure, calling out to him. He rolled her to her back, taking her breath away as he kept the rhythm up, bringing her to orgasm. He came in sync with her. He looked down at Sybil, the sweat beading on her forehead, their wet bodies sticking together, and he felt something he’d never felt before – fulfilled.

“Kiss me…” she gasped, still feeling the aftershocks of their lovemaking.

“Ain’t gotta ask, Syb…” He lowered his mouth onto hers, sucking her lips slowly, delightfully before withdrawing. He lay back, his chest still heaving as she lay her cheek upon it, listening to his fast heartbeat. He opened his legs, and she nestled her lower half between them, her stomach resting on his groin, not uncomfortable. He rubbed her saturated back, fingers slipping in the sweat, her hair pasted to her shoulders and his chest. Their bodies fit together like an intimate puzzle. Their hands locked together, fingers woven tight, his free hand cradling her. It was at that moment he knew his heart belonged to her.

When the first hint of light came through the windows, Jesus was up. He and Daryl searched the remainder of the building and found the rest of the items for Eugene by midday.

When they got outside, the Walkers from last night were still wandering around the truck, and seeing the two men, started lurching towards them.

“Dammit,” Jesus uttered while Daryl shot the closest in the head and then pulled his knives. Jesus round-housed one right in the skull, its rotted head exploding from the connection. Daryl took out two, a stab to the front of each temple, and Jesus took down the last one.

“ ‘ll drive,” Daryl said once everything was packed into the back of the pickup. Jesus tossed the keys to him. On the drive to Hilltop, Daryl was reliving those moments with Sybil still. Waking up with his legs wrapped around hers, her body still on his. He could almost feel her warmth, smell her perfume. He swerved almost hitting a Walker in the road. Jesus looked over at him, “Are you sure you’re up for driving?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” He sped up to get past the gathering herd quickly leaving them in the dust.

Eugene was pleased as he met the men getting out of the pickup.

“Did y’all find everything?” he asked as he pulled back the tarp over the parts. He went over the list and marked each item off, “Well done, you guys. I know these doodads don’t look like much, but when I get ‘em all put together, we’ll have some fine additions to those cabins y’all been working so hard on. Electricity! Creature comforts.”

“Glad we could help,” Jesus said as he and Daryl unloaded.

“Did you meet up with any trouble?” Maggie asked as she picked up a small box from the back.

“Naw,” Daryl responded.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Jesus added.

( 1 Month Later) Carver College

Daryl spotted Sybil and her friends in the throes of students in the cafeteria. She’d been pouring over textbooks for a test coming up in English Lit class. He breathed hot air on the back of her neck, “Hey babe.”

She smiled as she whispered, “Daryl…”

Mandy sniggered, “You two are something else.”

Daryl kissed Sybil lightly and slid into the chair next to her.

“Where have you been?” She asked in a hushed tone. She hadn’t seen him in four days. No explanations, no phone calls, “I was worried about you. I thought something might have happened to you!”

“Naw, no need t’ worry. ‘M here now.” He rubbed her hand slowly.

She picked up her books and excused herself from her circle of friends. Daryl grabbed them to carry for her. Once they were outside she turned to him, “Where have you been?” She asked him again, “You just disappeared.”

“I had t’ go outta town w’ Merle.”

“To do what?” She asked curiously.

He shrugged, “Just some odd errands, ain’t no big deal.”

“Daryl, it’s a big deal when you’re dating someone, and you just disappear. What if something happened to you?”

“Syb… don’t need t’ keep tabs on me. Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen t’ me.”

She frowned, “I’m not keeping tabs. Why are you keeping secrets?”

Chapter 7: Unavailable

The deer was finally ready to process. Many offered to help him, but he kindly rejected those offers. He wanted to work alone and get things off his mind. His memories were flooding in and he couldn’t build the dam fast enough to keep them at bay. It was close to the time of year when he first met Sybil. Even though people referred to parts of the year by the period of Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, Daryl knew it was around June. He felt it in his heart, and thoughts of Sybil were at their pinnacle. He sharpened his knife on a whetstone til the blade could slice easily through the meat, and as he removed the hide, he halted suddenly.

(6 Months Later) Sybil looked up from the bed, “Where are you going, hot stuff?”

He zipped his jeans, “gotta go outta town f’ a few days.”

She sat up, slipping on one of his t-shirts, “where? You never say.”

“Nothin’ y’ need t’ worry y’self over, Syb.” He rubbed her shoulders slowly, “Y’ won’t even have time t’ miss me.” He kissed her lips.

“Your brother is a troublemaker. Why do I have the feeling you two get up to no good when you’re gone?”

He shook out his head and started working the hide again, bound to have the hide salted and stretched before dinner. His workworn hands rubbed the salt into the thin layer of skin remaining, and as he was stretching it, he could smell dinner. His stomach rumbled. He covered the meat with an old tarp and went to join the others.

That night he sat by the campfire longer than most. The dog was sleeping by his foot, basking in the heat from the flames.

(One Year Later) Daryl knew it was late. It was nearly one. He’d been out fucking around with his gang, causing a ruckus, getting into a fight with another gang, and then Merle suggested they all go out for drinks. Daryl had a few and lost track of time.

“Shit, I gotta go!” He told his brother.

“What? Why?”

“’S Sybil’s birthday. ‘M late.”

“You’re so whipped. Hell, she’ll have another one next year.”

“That ain’t the point!” He said goodbye to his friends and rushed out to his bike. When he got to Sybil’s apartment, he could see the windows were dark. He pulled the present he had messily wrapped out of his saddle bag and went up to the second floor. He knocked on the door, and Theresa answered.

“What are you doing here, Daryl? Don’t you know how to tell time?”

“Jus’ wanna see Syb… don’t need y’all givin’ m’ a hard time. Lemme in.”

“Why don’t you just go and try to make amends tomorrow? You’re on her shit list you know.”

“Who’s at the door?” Sybil called out behind her. Daryl looked over Theresa’s shoulder and saw Sybil tying up her silky robe.

“Syb… ‘s me. I wanna come in.”

“I’ve got this Theresa…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you go on back to bed.”

Daryl ducked his head in shame, “Happy Birthday.” He held out the gift. Sybil’s hands were on her hips.

“Kind of late for that. My birthday was yesterday. It’s nearly two. What happened?”

“Got caught up w’ the boys. I lost track o’ time s’ all.”

“Oh, that’s all huh? My birthday didn’t matter much to you then, did it?”

“That ain’t true.”

“Sure it is. If you cared, you’d have been on time. You get with those guys and forget everything.” She pulled him into the room, and looked at him in the light, “And what the hell happened to your chin?”

Daryl instinctively touched his jaw. He must’ve gotten a bruise from the fight.

“You’ve been fighting again?”

“Weren’t much o’ a fight,” he half–laughed, “We got ‘em good.”

She stared at him angrily, “I can’t believe you’re missing the point here.” She wiped tears from her eyes, “I don’t think this is going to work out.”

“What? Y’ breakin’ up w’ me?!”

“Yes, I am.”

“Because m’ late f’ y’ birthday?”

“You just don’t get it. You didn’t show up. You didn’t call. And when you finally do show up you don’t feel one inch of remorse for it all.”

“Said I was sorry, Syb. Don’t be like that.”

“No, you didn’t apologize. You bragged about a fight. I don’t want to be a part of this. I expect more from the man I care about.”

He wiped his eyes, blaming the smoke from the fire, and decided it was time to head back to Alexandria. He’d leave as soon as he finished preparing the meat for Hilltop.

Chapter 8: Camping

Daryl waited a couple weeks for Sybil to cool off after their split.

“You’re better off without her baby brother. Now you ain’t tied down to one woman, you can date any y’all want.”

“Don’t wanna date anyone else. I want Sybil,” he muttered, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. He turned over the engine on his bike, bringing it back to life after its tune-up.

“Well she don’t want nothin’ to do with your sorry ass. She thinks she’s too good for ya! There’s plenty of other bitches that are interested in ya.”

“She ain’t a bitch, Merle. She’s different than them other girls.”

“Ooh, are you in love, pussy?”

“Why am I tellin’ y’ anythin’?” He put his tools away, and said, “Goin’ out f’ a bit.”

“Go on then, run back to that highfalutin’ uptown bitch. She must have some sugar ‘tween her legs to keep ya comin’ back to her.”

He showed up at Save A Lot where Sybil worked. She wasn’t at the cash register, but he found her stocking shelves as he searched the aisles.

“Hey Syb…” he said as he approached. She stopped marking canned goods with the pricing gun and looked in his direction.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came t’ apologize. M’ sorry I was such a dick.”

“Are you? Because I have the feeling that the sort of thing that got you in trouble with me in the first place is going to keep happening.”

“Naw… it ain’t. What can I do t’ make y’ change y’ mind?”

She huffed, “You need to stop fighting. I knew full well you were in a gang when I met you. But I don’t think I realized what that entailed.”

He reached out and touched one of her curls, wrapping it around his finger, “I can stop fightin’.”

“Yeah, right,” She rolled her eyes.

“I can,” he insisted.

“Prove it.”

“I will. Supposed t’ be a lil’ somethin’ on Friday. ‘ll come an’ see y’all instead. Maybe I can help you study…” he leaned his arm against the shelf, keeping close to her, “what d’ ya say?”

“Give me a week to think things over. Stay out of trouble until then. I refuse to have a boyfriend that will probably end up in jail. You’re better than that.”

He screeched to a halt on his bike. Right in the middle of the road.

“Can’t go back to Alexandria.” He felt a tightness in his chest, “Just can’t. C’mon.” He veered off the road and pushed his bike into some bramble to hide it.

He and Dog made their way deep into the forest around them. He knew the area well. He retreated towards a long winding river that cut through a clearing and set up a little lean-to between two trees and dug out a hole for a campfire. He set up a perimeter and fashioned a spear from a sturdy branch to go fishing. He and Dog ate a fine catch of fish for dinner.

He lay back against a log and stared up through the tree branches as the stars peeked into the holes between the leaves.

Three months later, they were back together. It took him that long to convince Sybil that he was staying out of trouble. He hung with the gang but skipped out when any brouhahas took place. His brother and friends didn’t let him live it down. He took the brunt of their brutal teasing, keeping his focus on what he really wanted, Sybil.

He watched as Sybil tried to figure out the instructions to the tent she’d brought on their first camping trip. It was early Autumn, and the weather was still pretty warm. He snorted, “Don’t need that booklet. Didn’t need no fancy tent neither.”

“I wanted it to be special,” she huffed, “and I can’t make heads or tails of any of this.”

He walked over, grabbed the instructions, and tossed them in the fire.

“Hey!” She laughed, “How do you expect to set up this tent then?”

He set to work, “Syb… pull them ropes your way.” He handed her a spike, “Stick ‘em in the ground…”

He pulled the other side and did the same. He put together the supports inside, assembling the tent in no time. She smiled proudly as she looked at the results.

“I knew you were good for something,” she teased, messing with his short hair.

That night after hot and heavy lovemaking, they went skinny dipping in the river not far from their setup. She shone under the moonlight, her body dancing with the beads of water dripping down her shoulders, over her breasts, and into the water at her waist. Daryl joined her and as they made out she said, “I could stay here forever.”

How he wished he had.

Chapter 9: The Thick of the Woods

Daryl spent weeks wandering the woods. He’d become so silent, he didn’t even need to call Dog, Dog just knew when to come. He’d gone a longer distance with each day, following the river downstream. He’d passed some small makeshift cabins and checked them out. Even spent some nights in one or two of them. He fought Walkers. Trudged through a downpour. Played with Dog in different clearings they happened upon. They lived off fish, rabbits, squirrels, wild yams, and leeks.

(2 Years Later) Sybil and Daryl got an apartment together. They’d been together for well over four years, and things just fell into place. They were happy, content with life. She was in her fourth year of college, she wanted to be a teacher, and Daryl was working for a local garage fixing just about anything with a motor.

“C’mon Syb… y’all get that cute ass in here. ‘ll help y’ study.” Daryl wanted to be as supportive to Sybil as he could. Even when he didn’t understand what he was quizzing her on, he felt proud of his girl for being so smart.

“If I don’t know it by now, I’m never going to know it.”

“C’mon ‘s the hard stuff, Early Childhood Development,” He held up the book, “We’re gonna go over t’ ones highlighted. Y’all got the rest down pat.”

“Okay, okay,” She threw her hands up in the air.

“Listen… ‘s somethin’ y’ really want, right?”

“Yes,” she answered, her eyes locking with his.

“Then y’ gotta put the time in. ‘S been four long years, but ‘s almost over. Don’t give up.” He squeezed her hand gently as he leaned in to kiss her.

“What would I do without you?” She asked, rubbing his scruffy cheek.

“Fail t’ damn test,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. They both laughed, “Right. Question one…”

He smiled at the thought, on how she graduated in the top five of her class. He’d liked to have thought he was part of the reason for that, if she wasn’t so smart to begin with. Still, it was some of his favorite time back then, watching her mind work, the way she’d bite her tongue and look at the ceiling while she thought about her answers, and how she loved to be rewarded with kisses.

One evening, just before dusk he heard a scream. Another voice was yelling, “Over here… this way!”

Heavy footfalls, groaning, and growling. Walkers. He followed the sounds and before crashing through the brush, he surveyed the situation. About ten Walkers were surrounding a couple of women and a man. They were fighting the Walkers pretty well, but there were too many. Daryl aimed his crossbow, clipping one Walker in the head about to bite the man’s shoulder. He fell to the ground. Unsure of what happened, the people continued to fight. He unsheathed his two knives, broke through the brush, and took two out, slicing another at the knees. One of the women brought down a knife into its brain. The other woman shoved a Walker into a tree and split its head with a machete. Three more to go. The man was backing up, looking to see if there were any more, turned around, and got one mere moment from attacking him. Daryl wiped the blades on his filthy pants and looked at the people quickly.

“Thank you,” one of the women breathed, “I don’t know if we could’ve made it without your help. Imagine finding another living soul in the woods.”

Daryl nodded as Dog sniffed around for any other threats. The woman with the cleaver was kneeling, cleaning her blade on one of the Walker’s shirts.

“Yes, thank you.” She stood up and turned to face the man, “we wouldn’t have made it.” She brushed an arm across her grimy face and said, “Do we look as bad as you do?” She smiled at the light joke. Daryl did a double-take. He squinted his eyes and studied the woman closely. She wasn’t anything to look at from first glance being road worn and ragged. But he saw those mystifying green eyes he’d never forget.

“S… Sybil?” His voice broke from being quiet for so long. It sounded foreign to him.

“How do you know my name?” She asked, eyeing the stranger. He was caked in mud, grungy from head to toe, long filthy hair pasted to his dirtied face.

“’S me…” was all he could muster taking a step closer. The woman looked deeply into the man’s eyes.

“Syb… ‘s Daryl…” he patted his chest.

“Daryl?” Her eyes widened. With sharp analysis, she determined that under that mess was the man from her past when everything was right in the world. Her throat closed as she stood stone still. The air was so thick, no one spoke, but everyone was bewildered that Sybil could find someone in the middle of nowhere that knew her.

There was movement behind her and a voice, “Mom? Is it safe to come out?”

For Part Two Click Here

#walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine

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shiorishiorishiori · 9 months ago

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6:01 PM

Pairing ⇿ Nanami Kento x OC

Summary ⇿ Nakahari Shiori's life is a balancing act between keeping the Kamo clan off her back and living a semi-normal life as a nurse at Tokyo Jujutsu High. When her stoic co-worker and friend, Nanami Kento, calls for help after a dangerous encounter with a special grade curse spirit, their friendship grows into something outside of their control. As they navigate a life dedicated to protecting humanity, their connection deepens, and the lines of their easy-going friendship blur. Will their newfound feelings survive the dangers that lurk in the shadows?

Tags/Warnings ⇿ Romance, Smut, Canon Divergence AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Soft Nanami Kento, Fluff, Angst, Cursing

Genre ⇿ Friends to Lovers, Nanami x OC, Long Fic

Chapter Two: After Last Night

He settled into an armchair, but the plush leather offered him no comfort. His mind was ablaze with visions of the patchwork curse spirit that marred his flesh just hours before. His jaw clenched as he recalled the adrenaline filled confrontation, the searing pain of their battle still fresh in his memory.

“Good morning, Nanami,” Yaga rumbled, eyes still glued to the hills of paperwork scattered about his desk. His gruff greeting held the predictable weight of a man burdened by responsibility. “Your punctuality is as commendable as ever.”

Nanami offered a curt nod. “Thank you for the early audience.”

“We’re just waiting for Gojo,” Yaga sighed, dark sunglasses hiding any hint of concern. “We need his perspective on this mess.”

Nanami sucked in a deep breath, the weight of his role within sorcerer society settling heavily on his shoulders. He was just another cog in the rusty machine, trying to protect the ignorant against unseen threats.

He recognized the need to consult Gojo Satoru, the unconventional and powerful sorcerer, as the next logical step to advance the mission. Yet, somewhere hidden deep beneath his mask, emerged a hint of doubt. This situation, like so many others they faced, tested the limits of their strength against curse spirits and highlighted the harsh reality of being a jujutsu sorcerer: the line between life and death was precariously thin.

As if on cue, the office doors swung open with a dramatic flourish to reveal the man in question. Gojo Satoru strolled in, a blinding white smile stretched across his face. “Top of the morning, folks! Sorry I’m late—I just didn’t want to come.”

Gojo plopped into the chair beside Nanami with a theatrical sigh. “This whole thing could have been an email. I mean, who even wakes up this early? Especially for something so… boring.”

A beat of silence followed Gojo’s grand entrance, punctuated only by Yaga’s disappointed sigh. Nanami's trademark eye roll was concealed behind his sunglasses, though it would have impressed a chameleon. The pair exchanged knowing glances across the desk, their shared frustration a silent language honed through years of dealing with the albino menace.

“Alright, focus up,” Yaga advised. “Nanami, your report mentions that not only did the unregistered special grade speak intelligently, it has amassed more of those disfigured human corpses?”

“It seemed to be in its infancy, but it was very articulate. And yes, the number of cursed corpses its created is concerning… This one seems to be operating on a different level.”

Gojo tilted his head. “A different level, huh? Sounds exciting! Was the conversation worthwhile, at least?”

Nanami’s eye twitch was barely perceptible, a testament to his years of dealing with Gojo’s brand of chaos. “No, Gojo. It tried to rip out my throat.”

Gojo sucked in a breath. “Yikes, that’s not good. I’m happy you’re still here with us, buddy.”

Yaga adjusted his dark sunglasses. “And that’s exactly why we need this situation handled quickly. Were there any other important details you noticed, Nanami?”

Nanami parsed through the night’s encounter, adding color to the facts outlined in his mission report. Yaga, ever-focused, kept the discussion moving, their plan solidifying with every exchanged word. Top priority: locating the curse spirit’s whereabouts and investigating Yoshino Junpei, the potential curse user.

“Before we head out, Nanami,” Principal Yaga started, concern evident in his voice. “Your report states that you sustained injuries during your mission. How are you holding up? Don’t forget to take a visit to the infirmary for a professional assessment.”

Nanami’s response remained characteristically composed. “There’s no need. I sought medical attention last night.”

Yet, beneath his calm exterior, fleeting images danced in his mind: Shiori’s gentle touch tending to his wounds, their laughter at the restaurant… and the sting of leaving her at her doorstep. Thankfully, duty kept those emotions contained. Personal matters had no place in his workday.

A sly grin tugged at Gojo's lips as he observed the exchange. He knew all about Nanami’s dedication to self-reliance, rarely seeking help unless absolutely unavoidable. It left Gojo’s curiosity piqued, his mind reeling with questions that demanded answers.

“Sounds good. That's all for today,” Yaga concluded, turning back to his paperwork. “Nanami, if you need anything, even another pair of hands, don't hesitate to ask. Good luck.”

Nanami nodded, rising to leave, already planning his next steps. But before he could exit, his senior's grating voice cut through the silence. He trudged down the echoing hallway, picturing himself mediating in complete silence instead of enduring Gojo’s shadow looming beside him. “Hey, Nanami, hold on!” Gojo’s cheerful voice shattered the peaceful image.

“Medical attention, huh?” Gojo smirked, draping an arm around his junior’s shoulders.

His shoulders tensed under the unwanted touch. “I’m fine,” Nanami muttered, desperately summoning any deity willing to banish Gojo as far away as humanly possible.

Gojo’s grin widened. “Oho, I bet you are fine.” Nanami shrugged off Gojo’s arm and continued down the hallway. ��So, who was the lucky sorcerer that patched you up? Shoko just got back in town this morning, so I’m ruling her out.”

Nanami quickened his pace down the polished wood, teeth gritted. He knew where this was going, and it wasn't a scenic route. “Anything not related to the curse spirit is above your pay grade.”

“Above my pay grade?” Gojo chuckled, his steps keeping pace with Nanami's. “Now, you're just making it interesting. If it wasn’t Shoko, then…”

“Shut up while you’re ahead. I’m not in the mood for games, Gojo.” Defensiveness slammed between them like a concrete wall, and Nanami instantly regretted his outburst. He knew showing any emotion in Gojo’s presence was akin to waving a red flag in front of a particularly annoying bull.

The corners of Gojo’s mouth rip upwards, his expression second only to the Cheshire Cat. “Oh, Nanamin, you make this too easy.”

“Nothing is ever easy with you. There’s nothing to discuss.”

Gojo threw his head back with a theatrical groan. “Come on, there’s clearly a story here! Your work wife rushed to your rescue in the middle of the night—that’s romantic! So, what happened next? Did you finally treat her to a proper date instead of that confusing ‘friends-but-not-really’ thing you two have going on?”

“Not your concern.”

“Perfect! Where’d you go? Was it that restaurant she’s been hinting about?”

Nanami remained silent while his mind raced to the curse spirit still on the loose, endangering innocent lives. He didn’t have time to gossip with Gojo about his nonexistent love life, yet the albino menace shadowed him to the sunlit parking lot. “I have pressing matters to attend to, so I'll be focusing on those. I advise you to do the same.”

Gojo sucked his teeth. “Aw, Nanamim, aren’t we friends? You should spill all the juicy details of your blossoming romance. You know I’m invested!”

Nanami kept his cards close to his chest. “There’s nothing to tell. She healed me, we ate dinner, I dropped her off…” He wouldn't risk mentioning how close he came to kissing her, or his vivid visions of Shiori riding his face until he asphyxiated between her thick thighs. “That’s it.”

Nanami’s feelings were only safe in the privacy of his own thoughts, not with the walking rumor mill known as Gojo. He was a gentleman after all, not a kiss-and-tell kind of guy. Especially before he even worked up the courage to actually do it.

“God, you two are so boring I could die.” His flair for drama was unmistakable.

“Then die,” Nanami retorted, accompanied by his trademark eye roll. “I’m leaving. If you need me while I’m out, don’t.” Nanami slid into his car and pulled away, leaving Gojo to his own devices. Which was never a good thing to do.

*---*

Shiori’s eyes flickered open, stunned by the harsh intrusion of light seeping through her curtains. With a disgruntled groan, she stretched her tired limbs and fumbled for her phone. She squinted at the screen revealing a litany of missed notifications and the stark glare of 7:45am.

Shoko 💜

Don’t forget we have a meeting with the new medical intern.

Gojo Satoru 🤡

I’ve been trying to contact you about your car’s extended warranty 👀

Where are you?

Dad

Good morning, my beautiful daughter. I hope you’ve been well. Give your parents a call sometime, will ya?

We miss you. Your mother may not say it, but I know she does.

Don’t tell her I said that haha

The missed notifications stared back at her. Her stomach lurched in revolt, mirroring the throbbing drum solo echoing inside her skull. Last night’s sake marathon with Nanami flashed in her brain, a painful reminder of her poor decisions. The memories flickered: four empty bottles, slurred laughter, and the warmth of his fingertips brushing hers when he refilled her cup. Had they really finished all that?

She was jolted out of her thoughts when Shoko’s name flashed on her phone again.

Shoko 💜

Don’t be late. I need you here by 8:30.

A pang of regret mixed with the insistent throbbing. Shoko Ieiri, her best friend and superior, rarely pulled out the “need” card. This was serious. Ignoring the ache knocking around her brain, Shiori pulled herself from the warmth of her duvet, the prospect of a Shoko-style reprimand was a greater motivator than any alarm.

She launched into a frantic morning routine. Brushing teeth, splashing cold water on her face, slapping on moisturizer - every action fueled by the fear of Shoko's wrath. In a whirlwind, she was dressed and out the door within 30 minutes, vowing to never again underestimate the power of four bottles of sake.

As she navigated through morning traffic, her mind replayed last night on a hazy movie reel. Healing Nanami, the laughter over dinner that blurred into drunken giggles, the way their bodies drifted closer under her porch light…

His striking brown eyes that flicked between her heavy-lidded eyes and expectant lips seemed to ask the same question her heart did. She hoped this was it—this was the moment he would finally kiss her… but he hesitated.

Shiori understood the fear of taking the leap. She could have closed the gap herself, taken the initiative, but the weight of what it meant held her back.

She had enough drama in her life, given their roles as jujutsu sorcerers and the looming threats from the Kamo clan, who sought to strip her of her autonomy. Her mother, ostracized for loving outside the bloodline, fled to Tokyo with her new family, shielding Shiori from the sorcerer world until she encountered her first curse spirit. Her quiet life of math homework, soccer practices, and loving parents was upended in an instant.

The Kamos, claiming their duty, almost took her away, but her parents fought, securing her freedom with the condition that she attend Tokyo Jujutsu High under their ever present scrutiny. She fiercely rejected their archaic beliefs, choosing her father’s family name, Nakahari, and forging her own path. In the clan’s eyes, she was merely a spare, expected to fulfill the clan's wishes should her young cousin, Kamo Noritoshi, ever stray from the path of succession. Shiori was still trapped by circumstance; the thought that a gaggle of elderly men held the power to determine her fate frustrated her to no end.

She found solace in her job as the school nurse and teacher assistant for the young talent at Tokyo Jujutsu High. While the work was demanding, it was also deeply fulfilling, especially when she had former classmates turned colleagues like Shoko, Gojo (occasionally), and Nanami by her side.

Despite her best efforts, her mind couldn't help but drift back to her budding crush on Nanami. Her heart did a little tap-dance just picturing Nanami's lips, sending a jolt of energy through her that rivaled her usual triple-shot espresso routine. A goofy grin stretched across her face, completely at odds with the hangover headache and impending lecture from Shoko.

“Hey, focus,” Shoko's voice cut through the daydream, a clipboard tapping lightly on Shiori's head. “The intern’s arriving soon. We need to get a feel for him.”

Shiori blinked, the smile fading as reality snapped back. “I’m all ears. I promise.”

Her tired eyes lazily observed Shiori's demeanor, attempting to gauge her thoughts. “You shouldn’t lie. It’s too obvious.”

Shiori shrugged. "Well, didn't Yaga hire this guy? I thought he already 'checked him out'."

Shoko folded her arms across her chest, the newfound source of her stress had her craving another cigarette for breakfast. "Yeah, but Yaga's too nice and too desperate for extra help. This new guy could be annoying. I might need some assistance in breaking him in."

“Are you suggesting we haze the new guy to keep him in line?”

“Precisely.”

As if scripted, the double doors of the morgue swung open, and a slender figure made his entrance. At first glance, he appeared more like a youthful teenager than an adult man, his boyish charm evident in his disheveled, fluffy, black hair that seemed to have a mind of its own as it bobbed and weaved atop his head.

His approach was a tad clumsy, but the pep in his steps mirrored his enthusiasm. He reached the two women, a hint of shyness in his warm, chocolate-brown eyes. With a bashful smile, he introduced himself, "Hello, my name is Tanaka Sho. I'm the new medical intern, and I'm really looking forward to working with you both." He added a swift, awkward bow at the end of his speech.

The two women exchanged knowing glances and then turned their attention to the young man in front of them, communicating in a telepathic language they had developed over years of friendship. Hazing this kid was going to be hard.

Shoko, with a calculated air of authority, addressed the young man. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Tanaka. Welcome. I'm Shoko Ieiri, and this is Nakahari Shiori.” She emphasized her role by stating, “I'll be assigning tasks to you as needed. For starters, do you see that stack of documents piled around the file cabinets?” She noticed the young man's slight squeak of affirmation and continued, “I'd appreciate it if you could organize those reports alphabetically.”

Tanaka, eager to please, nodded enthusiastically when given the task, his wide, innocent eyes shining with a touch of nervous energy. "Of course, Shoko-san, I'll do my best," he said with a soft, endearing smile, his voice carrying a slight hint of uncertainty. As he moved towards the pile of documents, he couldn't help but add, "If I mess up, don't hesitate to let me know. I want to make sure I do a good job."

As Tanaka went to work, Shoko and Shiori tried to maintain their hard-ass facade, but it quickly proved challenging in the face of his infectious enthusiasm and naivety. Shoko cleared her throat, attempting to sound firm, “Don't expect us to go easy on you. We have high standards here. This is just the first of your many, many tasks.”

Tanaka, looking a bit flustered by their stoic stance, responded with a warm, yet somewhat sheepish, "I understand! I'll do my best to meet your standards."

Shiori, still trying to play along, added, "And no slacking off, either."

Tanaka, while juggling papers and clearly trying to please, reassured them, "I won't slack off. I'm here to learn and help people, after all."

A flicker of hope sparked in Shiori's eyes. If Tanaka's easygoing nature translated to work, it could ease the constant pressure on Shoko, maybe even grant her a moment of rest. Granted, the new intern was still green, but the mere possibility of alleviating Shoko's burden filled Shiori with a warmth that rivaled her morning coffee. Just the thought of it brought a contented sigh to her lips. This, she decided, was something to look forward to.

*---*

Lunchtime rolled around, and Shoko and Shiori decided to ditch the cafeteria for a quiet cafe nearby. Tanaka, bless his polite soul, declined their invitation, leaving the two friends to their own devices. They settled into a cozy corner with their drinks and waited for their food. With a lazy smile, Shoko turned to Shiori and asked, “So, care to share what’s on your mind? You were basically swimming in daydreams earlier.”

Shiori fiddled with her napkin. "Oh, you know," she mumbled, “just work stuff. Lots of research. And reports. So many reports.”

Shoko's knowing smile didn't budge an inch. "Work stuff, huh? You could've fooled me," She leaned closer, voice almost conspiratorial. "I was hoping for something more interesting.”

“Nope! Just boring, old work stuff…”

“You know you have a tell, right? Usually you're an open book, but the second it's feelings-related, you clam up like a... clam.”

Shiori felt her cheeks burn, wishing she possessed Shoko's emotional poker face. "I don't know what you're talking about…" she squeaked, unconvincingly.

Shoko chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Didn’t I tell you that lying doesn’t suit you? I can see right through it. I know something is up when you got that bashful thing going on.”

Shiori sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat, her gaze finally landing on the perpetually tired doctor. “Alright, you got me. I was just trying to dodge the whole 'feelings' conversation.”

"Ah, so the Nanami conundrum continues..."

“God, am I really that transparent?”

"Well, if you have to ask..."

Shiori groaned, theatrically burying her face in her hands. "Talking like this makes me feel like we’re teenagers again, and I’m running to tell you about any guy who even looked in my direction. I’m done with crushes, okay? I’ve evolved beyond all of that.”

Shoko's laughter boomed through the cafe, drawing curious glances. "Shiori, I hear you, but feelings don’t answer to logic. You’re allowed to be giddy about a crush.”

"Always the voice of reason, Shoko. I bet you were a monk in your past life.”

"Yeah, yeah. Now spill the Nanami tea. Stop stalling."

A goofy grin, the one reserved exclusively for thoughts of her blonde sorcerer, bloomed on her face. “Nanami treated me to dinner last night. He had a pretty nasty wound from a special grade, so he called me for help. I patched him up, but my heart nearly fell out of my ass when he called me with that deep, ‘Batman’ voice of his.”

Shoko, ever the laid-back friend, hummed in acknowledgment.

"I've healed him in the past, but this time was different. More...intimate, somehow? Now, I know it was just a thank-you dinner, but it felt like an actual date! I was so convinced that he was going to make a move…”

"Sounds like you should make the first move."

Shiori rolled her eyes with a light, airy scoff. “And run the risk of making an absolute ass out of myself? Absolutely not. What if all these signals are just my imagination? He's probably just being... well, Nanami. He’s just a really nice guy—”

“Nice?” A derisive scoff escaped Shoko’s lips. “There’s nothing nice about him. Nanami can be polite, sure, but he’s not a nice man,” Shoko leaned back in her chair as she recalled one of her latest run-ins with the stoic sorcerer. “During a mission debrief last month, I suggested an alternative approach for handling a cursed object. He shot it down with the coldest ‘no’ I’ve ever heard. I swear, it was like I suggested we blow up an orphanage.”

Shiori couldn't help but snort with laughter. "Sounds about right."

Shoko continued, “But after the meeting, he took me aside and explained why my idea wouldn’t work. He said he appreciated my input, but didn’t want to undermine my confidence in front of the others. Nanami is as blunt as that cursed tool of his, but there’s a method to his madness. He’s got his own way of looking out for people.”

Shiori couldn’t help but smile at the insight into Nanami’s complex personality. “He’s certainly an enigma.”

“And that’s why I think you have a shot—he’s not nice to anyone.”

Her body exploded in a scorching blush, betraying the insecurity swirling beneath the surface. Picking at the placemat like it held the answers, she mumbled, “Shoko, please don’t feed into my delusions. Even if there's something there, it wouldn't last. Between our stressful jobs and the Kamo clan breathing down my neck, I barely have time to blink, let alone date."

“Who said anything about commitment? You could have a friends-with-benefits arrangement. Honestly, I’m surprised you two haven’t…” She let the sentence trail off with a sly grin. “... Experimented." The wink that followed packed the punch of a loaded shotgun.

Shiori chewed on the idea, mentally weighing the risks and rewards. Nanami, her loyal friend, her confidant – the thought of adding "benefits" to that equation was both thrilling and terrifying. He was dependable, easy to talk to, and he always kept his word. Yet, lately, she found herself straying beyond their platonic haven, daydreaming about the enticing possibilities that lay outside the bounds. It was hard not to wander, considering that Nanami was an absolute god of a man.

Nanami was like a walking GQ ad, impeccable in his pressed suits that hinted at the powerful physique beneath. Every tailored line clung to his broad shoulders and strong arms, leaving little to the imagination. Shiori often caught herself (not-so-subtly) gawking at the thick veins running down his muscled arms, trailing all the way into his large, capable hands. His cologne, a fresh mix of citrus and mint, lingered in the air, leaving her senses pleasantly disoriented. He moved with a confident grace that belied his intimidating aura, befitting the most unapproachable man she ever met.

But it was the tiny things that captivated her the most. Like the way he’d absentmindedly adjust his tie, the rare smile that crinkled his eyes when he found his favorite bread at the store, or those extraordinary, electrifying moments whenever their hands brushed.

Shiori couldn't deny the way she biblically craved the blonde sorcerer. Sure, the man had an ass that could rival a Greek statue, but let's be honest, that was just the icing on the cake. She craved the whole package: cheesy movie dates where he'd pretend to hate the rom-com but secretly hum the theme song, late-night cuddles on his couch while they debated the best bakeries in the area, and impromptu sleepovers filled with stolen glances and kisses. She wanted to paint their love story in all the cliché colors, because sometimes, clichés were just the best damn things in the world.

She pictured it: Nanami, the man who could probably disarm a cursed spirit with a single raised eyebrow, awkwardly fumbling with a bouquet of oversized sunflowers because they reminded him of her smile.

That stoic mask he wears? Gone, replaced by a flustered mess because he caught her sneaking a peek at his biceps while he adjusted his tie.

Remember the sorcerer known for his record breaking black flashes? He’s in her kitchen cracking eggs and flipping pancakes. The air smells of burnt butter and syrup, and his brow is furrowed in concentration.

These were scenes straight out of a rom-com; and maybe Shoko was right—beneath his aloof attitude, maybe he craved a little bit of the cliche, too. With a wistful smile, Shiori finally spoke up. “Nah, I want a real relationship. I’m a sucker for a good romance.”

Shoko chuckled at her friend’s entanglement. “Tell him that, not me.”

Before Shiori could offer a rebuttal in defense of her love affairs, the waiter placed their dishes on the table, and they began to enjoy their meal. She took a bite of her food, her mind buzzing with possibilities.

#nanami kento fanfiction #Nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami smut #jjk gojo #ieri shoko #nanamin #6:01 PM fanfiction #the fic is waaaay ahead on AO3. why? i'm lazy and formatting on tumblr is stupid lol #(or im just stupid shhh)#thank you for reading dudes #it means the world that somebody is reading my little self indulgent fic about the world's best sorcerer

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