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pucksandpower · 1 month ago

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Bite Me

Day 25 → Monsterfucking 💋 Carlos Sainz

Warnings: 18+ content, vampires, and dubious consent

Kinktober Masterlist

Carlos lies beside you, the weight of his arm draped over your waist, fingers tracing absent-minded circles on your skin. The room is dim, with only the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting silver shadows on the walls. You shift slightly, turning your head to meet his gaze — those dark, unfathomable eyes that hold centuries of secrets.

He catches your movement, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re restless,” he murmurs, his voice deep, rich like aged wine. “What’s on your mind, mi amor?”

You hesitate, the words forming but refusing to leave your lips. His eyes search yours, and you can feel him pulling the thoughts from your mind without effort.

You’ve always wondered about it — how he knows you so well, how he can sense the shift in your emotions before you even understand them yourself. It’s not just the years you’ve spent together. It’s him, something innate, something ancient.

“Why haven’t you ever bitten me?” You ask, the question finally slipping out, almost a whisper.

Carlos’ fingers still on your skin. His gaze hardens, though his hold on you remains tender. “Why do you ask this now?”

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant, though your heart betrays you, thudding loudly in your chest. “I’ve just … I’ve been thinking. You’ve told me about what you are, how you became this way, but you’ve never-” You swallow, feeling suddenly exposed under his scrutiny. “You’ve never fed from me.”

He sighs, the sound heavy with a burden only he seems to carry. “It’s not something I take lightly.”

“I know that,” you say quickly. “But … don’t you want to?”

Carlos shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at you, his expression unreadable. “Want to? Amor, of course I want to. There is nothing I want more than to taste you, to have you be a part of me in the most intimate way possible.”

You shiver, both at his words and the way his gaze darkens, almost as if he’s imagining it now. His thumb brushes your lips, his eyes following the movement as if he’s mesmerized.

“But I won’t do it,” he adds, pulling his hand back as if burned by the thought. “I refuse.”

“Why?”

Carlos’ jaw tightens, his gaze flickering to the window, to the world outside. “Because you don’t understand what it means, what it does. It’s not just a bite, cariño. It’s a claim. A bond. It’s forever. I won’t risk your soul for something so … selfish.”

“Selfish?” You frown, pushing yourself up to mirror him. “Carlos, you’re not selfish. You’ve never asked me for anything. Not even this. But what if I want to?”

His eyes snap back to yours, sharp and intense. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Then tell me. Help me understand.”

Carlos leans back against the headboard, running a hand through his dark hair. The movement is so human, so vulnerable, that it makes your heart ache. “It’s hard to explain. It’s not like in the stories. The bite — it’s pleasure, yes, but it’s also pain. It changes you. It connects us in ways you can’t undo. If I bite you … you’ll be bound to me. Forever. There’s no turning back from that.”

“And what if I want that?” You ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “What if I want forever with you?”

His eyes close, a pained expression crossing his features. “You deserve more than this life, this half-existence. You deserve to live, to grow old, to have children if you want them. You deserve a future that I can never give you.”

“I want you,” you say, voice firm. “I’ve always wanted you. You’re my future, Carlos. You know that.”

He shakes his head, a bitter smile on his lips. “I’m not worth that sacrifice.”

“Let me decide that,” you counter. “You always talk about protecting me, about giving me a choice. Well, I’m choosing now. I choose you. I want all of you, not just the parts you think are safe.”

Carlos’ gaze softens, the conflict in his eyes evident. He reaches out, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he repeats, but this time, there’s a crack in his voice, a tremor that betrays his resolve.

“Then show me,” you challenge, leaning into his touch. “Show me what it means. I’m not afraid.”

“You should be.”

“Maybe. But I’m not.”

For a long moment, the room is silent, the tension between you a palpable thing. Carlos’ breath is shallow, his grip on you tightening, as if he’s trying to anchor himself, to resist the pull of his own desires.

“I’ve lived so long,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper. “Seen so much. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved. I couldn’t bear to lose you too.”

“Then don’t,” you whisper back. “Don’t lose me. Keep me. Isn’t that what you want?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes darkening, the conflict in them warring with the longing you can see. It’s so close, the tension between you a hair’s breadth from snapping. His breath mingles with yours, his lips hovering just above your skin, his eyes locked on yours.

“Carlos,” you breathe, and it’s both a plea and a surrender.

His hands tighten on your face, and for a moment, you think he’s going to do it, that he’s going to give in to the primal urge you can feel radiating from him. But then, with a low growl, he pulls away, rolling onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm as if the darkness might swallow the desire coursing through him.

“I can’t,” he mutters, the words thick with regret. “I won’t do that to you.”

The rejection stings, even though you understand his reasoning. But it doesn’t lessen the ache in your chest, the longing you feel. You roll onto your side, facing him, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart — an oddity in itself, a reminder that he’s not like you, that there’s a gulf between you no matter how close you are.

“Carlos,” you say softly, tracing patterns over his skin, “if you won’t do it, then tell me why. What are you really afraid of?”

His arm falls away from his eyes, and he turns his head to look at you, his expression weary. “I’m afraid of losing you. Of what that bite would do to us.”

“Then let me reassure you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He lets out a hollow laugh, the sound bitter. “You say that now, but you don’t understand. You wouldn’t be the same after. You might hate me for it. And I couldn’t live with that.”

“I could never hate you,” you insist, moving closer, so your body is pressed against his, your warmth bleeding into him. “I love you, Carlos. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks at you, his eyes softer now, full of a tenderness that melts some of the hardness inside you. “You say that now. But forever is a long time, amor.”

“Not long enough,” you counter, brushing your lips against his, a gentle reassurance. “Not for us.”

Carlos’ fingers trail down your spine, slow and deliberate, making you shiver. “You’re too good for me.”

“Or maybe you’re too good for me.”

He laughs softly, but it’s a sad sound, full of longing. “I don’t deserve you. Not your love, not your devotion. But I’m a selfish man, and I can’t let you go.”

“Then don’t.”

He looks at you, and you see the decision forming in his eyes, the resignation mixed with desire. “If I do this, it’s forever. You’ll be mine, completely, in ways you can’t even imagine.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in. “I know. And I’m ready.”

Carlos closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as if trying to steady himself. When he opens them again, they’re darker, the brown nearly black. He leans in, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a thrill down your spine.

“Do you really want this?” He asks one last time, his breath hot against your skin, his fangs barely grazing the surface.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Yes, Carlos. I want this. I want you.”

His grip tightens, and for a split second, you feel the sharp points of his fangs press against your skin, poised to break through. The world narrows down to this moment, the sound of his breath, the feel of his body against yours, the anticipation so thick you can barely breathe.

But then, just as quickly as the moment comes, it passes. Carlos pulls away with a low growl, rolling off the bed and standing, putting distance between you. “No. I won’t.”

You sit up, confused, hurt. “Carlos-”

He holds up a hand, his back to you. “No. I can’t do this. I can’t condemn you to my life, to this existence. I love you too much to do that.”

You stare at his back, anger and hurt knotting in your chest. The distance he’s put between you feels like a chasm, like something that might never be crossed again. But you refuse to let it end here, to let him make this decision without understanding how much it means to you.

“Carlos, turn around,” you demand, your voice trembling, but resolute.

He doesn’t move. His shoulders are tense, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It’s like he’s fighting a battle within himself, one you can’t see, but can feel in the air, thick with unspoken words and untapped emotions.

“Please,” you plead, softer now, trying to reach him. “Look at me.”

Finally, he turns, but the expression on his face is one of torment. His dark eyes are haunted, filled with a deep sorrow that makes your heart ache even more.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he says, his voice rough, as if every word is a struggle. “This isn’t just a moment of passion, amor. This is your life we’re talking about. Your soul.”

“I do understand,” you insist, pushing yourself off the bed and taking a tentative step toward him. “I’ve thought about this, Carlos. I’ve thought about it so much. And I’ve made my decision. I want this. I want you. All of you.”

He shakes his head, backing away from you, the pain in his eyes cutting deep. “And what happens when you regret it? When you realize that you’ve given up everything — your humanity, your future — for someone like me?”

“I won’t regret it,” you argue, closing the distance between you. “I love you. I want to be with you. I want to share everything with you, including this.”

Carlos’ jaw tightens, and he turns his head away, as if he can’t bear to look at you. “You’re asking me to damn you, to bind you to a life that isn’t really living.”

“Maybe that’s what you believe,” you say, reaching out to touch his arm, the warmth of your skin meeting the coolness of his. “But that’s not how I see it. To me, this is living. Being with you is living.”

His eyes snap back to yours, and there’s a flash of something — desperation, need, fear. “You’re asking me to do something I can’t undo. Once I bite you, once I take your blood … there’s no going back.”

“I know,” you whisper, your fingers trailing down his arm, finding his hand and squeezing it. “And I’m okay with that. I’m ready.”

Carlos’ hand trembles in yours, and you can feel the tension in him, the way he’s holding back, the way he’s trying so hard to protect you — even from yourself.

“Please, Carlos,” you beg, your voice breaking. “Please. Don’t push me away. Don’t make this decision for me.”

He inhales sharply, as if your words have struck him, and for a moment, you think he’s going to deny you again. But then his grip tightens on your hand, and he pulls you against him, his arms wrapping around you in a fierce, possessive embrace.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “But if this is what you truly want … if this is what you need … then I’ll give it to you.”

Your heart skips a beat, relief flooding through you. “It is. It’s what I want. More than anything.”

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of longing and torment. “There are so many places I could bite you,” he says, his voice low and husky, each word laced with desire. “So many ways I could claim you.”

Your breath hitches as his hand trails up your arm, his fingers ghosting over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Carlos’ eyes darken, and he leans in, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck, right where your pulse beats furiously beneath the surface. “Here,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “The neck is traditional. It’s intimate, close to the heart. But it’s also dangerous. One mistake, and …”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you know what he means. The neck is risky, the blood vessels close to the surface, the possibility of draining too much, too fast, always a threat.

“But there are other places,” he continues, his lips moving down to your collarbone, kissing the hollow there. “The collarbone is sensitive, a place where the skin is thin, the blood rich. It’s … pleasurable.”

Your fingers curl into his shirt, your body trembling as he moves lower, his mouth trailing down your arm, stopping at the inside of your elbow. “Here, the veins are close to the surface. It’s a slower process, more drawn out. Some say it’s the most intimate because it’s less about hunger and more about connection.”

His lips graze the inside of your wrist, and you shiver, the sensation almost too much. “The wrist is quick, efficient. It’s what we use when we’re in need, when we’re desperate.”

You’re barely breathing now, your pulse pounding in your ears as he moves lower, down your body, dropping to his knees before you. His hands glide over your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your nightgown, exposing your skin inch by inch.

“But there’s one place,” he says, his voice a deep rumble, vibrating through you, “that’s the most pleasurable of all. The femoral artery.”

You gasp as his hands part your thighs, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin there, his mouth hovering just above the spot he’s describing. “It’s deep, powerful, connected to the core of you. The blood is richest here. It’s where the pleasure is … overwhelming.”

Carlos’ words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of fear and desire coiling in your stomach. He looks up at you, his eyes dark and intense, waiting for your response.

You nod, your voice catching in your throat. “Yes. Yes, Carlos. Please.”

His eyes darken further, a predatory glint flashing in them as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, right where the femoral artery pulses beneath the skin. “Are you sure, amor? Once I do this, there’s no going back.”

“I’m sure,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation and desire. “I want this. I want you.”

Carlos closes his eyes for a moment, as if steeling himself, before looking up at you again, his gaze locking with yours. “Then lie back, mi amor. Let me show you what it means to truly be mine.”

Your heart races as you do as he says, lying back on the bed, your legs parted just enough for him to kneel between them. He moves with a grace that belies the intensity in his eyes, the hunger that you can feel rolling off him in waves.

He leans over you, his hands bracing on either side of your hips, his body caging yours in. You feel his breath against your skin, the warmth of it contrasting with the coolness of his touch. His lips ghost over your thigh, making you shiver, the anticipation almost unbearable.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need, but also with concern.

“I won’t change my mind,” you assure him, your voice steady, despite the wild beating of your heart. “I trust you, Carlos. I want this.”

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a long moment, before he lowers his head, his lips brushing over the spot on your thigh where the artery pulses. You can feel the tension in him, the way he’s holding back, even now, trying to control the hunger that you know is clawing at him from the inside.

And then, with a soft growl, he gives in. His fangs sink into your flesh, piercing the artery, and a shock of pain lances through you, sharp and sudden. But it’s quickly followed by something else — something warm and deep, a pleasure so intense it takes your breath away.

You gasp, your back arching off the bed as the sensation floods through you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure that’s almost overwhelming. You can feel him drawing from you, the pull of your blood as it flows into him, as if he’s taking a part of you into himself, claiming you in a way that’s both physical and spiritual.

Carlos’ grip on your thighs tightens, his body pressing closer to yours as he drinks, the growl in his throat deepening, vibrating through your skin. The connection between you sharpens, the bond forming in that moment, and you can feel him — his emotions, his thoughts, the depth of his love for you, the hunger that’s been denied for so long.

It’s too much, and yet not enough. You want more, need more, the sensation building to a crescendo inside you, threatening to drown you in its intensity. You can’t hold back the cry that escapes your lips, a sound of both pain and pleasure, as Carlos drinks deeply, the bond between you solidifying, becoming something unbreakable, eternal.

And just when you think you can’t take any more, when the pleasure is about to tip into something else, something darker, Carlos pulls back, his fangs sliding from your flesh.

Your body trembles beneath him, every nerve on fire as the sensation of his bite fades, replaced by a different kind of need — one that is more intense, more primal. Carlos’ lips linger on your thigh, his breath hot against your skin as he laps at the small puncture wounds, each touch sending sparks through you. The pain has morphed into pleasure, a deep, pulsing ache that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Slowly, Carlos begins to kiss his way up your leg, his mouth tracing a path of heat along your skin. Each kiss is deliberate, a promise of what’s to come, and you can feel the tension building in your core, tightening with every brush of his lips.

When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. His eyes are dark, filled with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ve never tasted anything sweeter,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “You’re everything, mi amor. Everything.”

The words send a rush of warmth through you, and you gasp as he presses his mouth against the bundle of nerves that’s already so sensitive, so primed. His tongue flicks over it, teasing, tasting, before he sinks his fang into the delicate skin with a precision that leaves you gasping, your body arching into him as the sharp pain gives way to an overwhelming flood of pleasure.

It’s too much, too intense, and you feel yourself tipping over the edge, a cry tearing from your lips as the pleasure crests, crashing over you like a wave. Carlos doesn’t stop, his tongue lapping at the release, drawing out every last ounce of your pleasure, until you’re trembling, boneless beneath him.

As the aftershocks of your release fade, you’re left panting, your heart racing in your chest. Carlos pulls back, his eyes heavy-lidded, his lips glistening with the remnants of your release. There’s a reverence in the way he looks at you, a kind of awe that makes your heart squeeze.

“I could never have imagined …” His voice is husky, almost reverent as he speaks. “You’re perfect, mi amor. I’ve never tasted anything so sweet, so pure.”

You’re still trying to catch your breath, your mind spinning from the intensity of what just happened. But even through the haze, you can sense the change in him — the way he’s looking at you, the way his touch is more possessive, more reverent.

He sits up slightly, one hand still resting on your thigh, his thumb brushing over the marks he’s left on your skin. His other hand rises to his mouth, and you watch, mesmerized, as he bites into his own wrist, his fangs piercing the skin with ease.

The sight is strangely beautiful, the dark blood welling up from the wound, and your breath catches as he holds his wrist out to you, the offer unspoken but clear.

“If you take this,” Carlos says, his voice low and serious, “there’s no going back. Our connection will be permanent, unbreakable. It will be something that words can’t describe, something that transcends everything.”

You stare at his wrist, your mind racing. You’ve come this far, crossed lines you never thought you would. But this — this is different. This is forever. It’s not just about desire or love; it’s about binding your soul to his, about becoming something more than human.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. But there’s nothing there but certainty, a deep, unwavering conviction that this is right, that this is what he wants — what he needs.

“Carlos,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. “Are you sure?”

His gaze softens, and he leans down, brushing his lips over yours in a tender, lingering kiss. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, mi amor. You are everything to me. Without you, there’s nothing. With you … there’s everything.”

His words wrap around your heart, and you know, deep down, that this is what you want too. You’ve always known. There’s no turning back now, no second-guessing. This is the moment where everything changes, where you choose him — forever.

You reach up, your hand trembling slightly as you take hold of his wrist, your fingers brushing over the wound. The blood is warm, almost hot against your skin, and as you bring his wrist to your lips, you can feel the connection between you deepening, solidifying.

Carlos watches you, his gaze intense, as you press your lips to his wrist, the taste of his blood filling your mouth. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced — a mix of power and warmth, a connection that thrums through your veins, setting every nerve alight.

As you drink, you can feel the bond forming, something deeper than love, more primal, more eternal. It’s as if your souls are intertwining, becoming one, and you know that this is forever — that no matter what happens, you’ll never be alone again.

When you finally pull back, you’re breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Carlos leans down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both come to terms with what you’ve just done.

“We’re bound now,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and reverence. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Forever.”

The weight of his words settles over you, but instead of fear or doubt, all you feel is a deep sense of rightness, of belonging. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. “Te amo,” he says, the words filled with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “More than I ever thought possible.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you pull him down into a kiss, needing to feel him close, needing to solidify the bond you’ve just created. He responds immediately, his lips moving against yours with a passion that leaves you dizzy, your body arching into his as the connection between you flares, burning bright and hot.

The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, bound together in a way that transcends everything else. It’s more than love, more than desire — it’s a union of souls, something that goes beyond the physical, something that words can’t fully capture.

As you lose yourself in the kiss, in the feel of him against you, inside you, you know that this is where you’re meant to be. That no matter what comes next, no matter what challenges you face, you’ll always have Carlos by your side.

And that, more than anything, is what makes this moment perfect.

***

The days blur into weeks, then months, each moment with Carlos etching itself into your very being. The bond between you deepens, growing more intense, more consuming with each passing night. It’s as if every fiber of your existence has been rewired, attuned to him and the pleasure he brings — a pleasure that has become intrinsically linked to his bite.

It happens gradually, almost imperceptibly at first. The way your body responds to him shifts, your desires sharpening, focusing on the exquisite pain-pleasure of his fangs sinking into your flesh. It’s as though you’ve been conditioned, your body trained to crave that sensation, to need it in a way that feels as vital as breathing.

Carlos notices it too. He’s always been attuned to your every reaction, but now there’s a deliberateness to his touch, a calculated precision in the way he teases you, pushes you right to the brink and then holds you there, on the edge of that abyss, until you’re practically begging for his bite.

And you do beg. You plead with him, your voice breathless, desperate, as you arch against him, needing that release only he can give. It’s a need that runs deeper than anything you’ve ever felt, a craving that consumes you whole.

Carlos indulges you, but there’s a darkness in his eyes when he does, a look of concern that lingers even as he gives you what you so desperately desire. It’s as if he knows the power he holds over you, the way he’s shaping you, molding you into something that’s more his than your own.

And yet, even with that knowledge, he can’t resist you. He’s as much a slave to your connection as you are, caught in the web you’ve spun together, tangled in the threads of desire and love that bind you.

One night, as you lie together in the dark, the world outside forgotten, Carlos’ hand drifts down your body, his touch feather-light, tracing patterns on your skin. The tension is already coiling in your belly, your body responding to him instinctively, anticipating what’s to come.

“Carlos,” you whisper, your voice a plea as you tilt your head to the side, offering him your throat. It’s become almost ritualistic now, this dance you do together — the way you give yourself to him, the way he takes.

He hesitates for a moment, his fingers brushing over the marks on your neck, the ones that have healed over but are still faintly visible, a reminder of the many times he’s bitten you there. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice low, tinged with that same concern that’s been growing more frequent lately.

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please, Carlos. I need it. I need you.”

The words are raw, stripped of any pretense, and you see the way they affect him, the way his gaze darkens with a mix of desire and something deeper, something that borders on regret.

But he doesn’t deny you. He never does.

His lips ghost over your skin, soft and teasing, before he bites down, his fangs sinking into the tender flesh of your throat. The pain is sharp, but it’s immediately followed by that rush of pleasure, that intoxicating mix of agony and ecstasy that only he can bring you.

Your body arches into him, your breath catching in your throat as you cling to him, needing to anchor yourself against the wave of sensation that crashes over you. Carlos’ hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding that bundle of nerves that’s become so sensitive, so primed for him, and you cry out as he rubs slow, deliberate circles there, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

But it’s not enough. It’s never enough without his bite, without that sharp, exquisite pain that sends you spiraling into oblivion. And Carlos knows this — he knows you too well by now, knows exactly what you need, what you crave.

He pulls back from your throat, his lips stained with your blood, and you whimper at the loss, at the way your body tightens with unfulfilled need. But then he’s shifting, moving down your body, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, each one a promise, a prelude to what’s coming.

When he reaches that spot between your legs, he doesn’t hesitate. He presses his mouth against you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a precision that has you gasping, your hips bucking against him as the pleasure builds, sharp and intense.

And then you feel it — the sharp sting of his fang as it nicks that delicate skin, a jolt of pain that sends you careening over the edge, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave, so powerful it leaves you breathless, trembling beneath him.

Carlos doesn’t stop. He laps at your release, his tongue gentle now, soothing, as if he’s trying to ease you down from that high. But there’s a hunger in the way he moves, a desperation that mirrors your own, as if he’s just as consumed by this need as you are.

When he finally pulls back, his gaze is intense, filled with a mix of satisfaction and something darker, something that sends a shiver down your spine. He’s still kneeling between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

You’re still catching your breath, your mind spinning from the intensity of your release, when you see him bite into his wrist again, the motion almost automatic now, a part of your shared ritual.

But this time, something inside you shifts. As he brings his wrist to your lips, the words spill out before you can stop them, a plea that’s been building inside you for weeks, maybe even longer.

“Carlos … turn me.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and you see the way they affect him, the way his entire body goes still, his gaze locking onto yours with a look of shock, of fear.

“Don’t say that,” he whispers, his voice harsh, almost pleading. “Don’t ask me for that.”

You shake your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m serious, Carlos. I want this. I want to be with you, forever.”

His grip on your thighs tightens, and you can see the battle warring within him, the conflict between his desire and his fear. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says, his voice raw with emotion. “You don’t know what it means to live like this, to be bound by this curse.”

“I don’t care,” you say, your voice firm, resolute. “I want you, Carlos. I want everything that comes with you. I’m not afraid.”

He closes his eyes, his jaw clenching as he struggles to maintain control. “You should be afraid,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You should be terrified.”

“But I’m not,” you insist, reaching up to cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “I trust you, Carlos. I know you’ll take care of me. I know you’ll never let me become a monster.”

His eyes search yours, and you can see the pain there, the agony of knowing that you’re asking him to do something that goes against everything he’s ever wanted for you. But you also see the love, the overwhelming depth of it, and you know that he won’t be able to deny you — not when it comes to this.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice breaking with emotion. “I need this, Carlos. I need you. Please, turn me.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. But then, slowly, he nods, his expression one of resignation, of acceptance. “Okay,” he says, his voice hollow. “Okay.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a gesture that’s both tender and heartbreaking. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “I’ll love you forever.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you, grounding yourself in the knowledge that this is right, that this is what you both want, what you both need.

And then you feel it — the sharp, burning pain as his fangs sink into your neck, deeper this time, more final. The pain is excruciating, a fire that spreads through your veins, consuming you from the inside out. But even through the agony, you can feel the love, the connection, the bond that’s deepening with every drop of blood he takes.

Your vision begins to blur, the edges darkening as the life slowly drains from you. But there’s no fear, no regret — only a deep, abiding love, a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be, where you’ve always belonged.

As the darkness closes in, you hear Carlos’ voice, soft and broken, the last thing you hold onto as everything fades to black. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice filled with a sorrow so profound it cuts through the haze, piercing your heart even as it stops beating.

And then there’s nothing.

***

The transition from mortal to vampire is startlingly smooth, almost effortless. Carlos had warned you — countless times — about the challenges, the inevitable struggles that come with your new existence. But those struggles never seem to materialize. Instead, you find yourself reveling in your newfound abilities, your senses heightened, your strength amplified. The world feels different, richer, as if you’ve been given the key to unlock its deepest secrets.

You’ve always been adaptable, but this … this is something else entirely. The hunger that gnawed at you in the first few days is now a familiar, almost comforting presence, easily sated with each hunt. The speed and agility that come so naturally to you feel like an extension of your own will, as if you were always meant to move this way, to live this way.

Carlos watches you closely, his concern never far from the surface, but even he can’t deny how easily you’ve taken to this new life. He’d expected turmoil, conflict — a struggle to reconcile your old self with the creature you’ve become. But instead, he sees you thrive, sees the joy in your eyes each time you embrace your abilities.

What he doesn’t see — what even you hadn’t expected — is how much you enjoy the power dynamics between the two of you. The bond between a maker and their progeny is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, a connection so deep, so intimate, it’s almost overwhelming. And with it comes a power that Carlos wields with an authority that both excites and unnerves you.

It’s not something you would have predicted. You’ve always been independent, headstrong, not one to easily submit to anyone’s will. But with Carlos, it’s different. There’s something intoxicating about the way he commands you, the way his voice slips into your mind, into your very soul, compelling you to obey.

You didn’t think you’d enjoy it. But you do. More than you’d care to admit.

Tonight, the tension between you simmers, a palpable energy that crackles in the air as you move through the shadows together. You’d pushed your limits earlier, testing the boundaries of your new life, staying out far later than you should have, pushing Carlos’ patience to its edge.

Now, as the first light of dawn threatens the horizon, you can feel his disapproval like a weight, a dark cloud hanging over you as you step inside. The door closes behind you with a soft click, the sound far too final, too ominous for your liking.

“Where were you?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it, a hint of the anger he’s trying so hard to keep in check.

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant as you brush past him, heading for the stairs. “Just hunting,” you say, your tone light, almost flippant. “I lost track of time.”

Carlos is on you in an instant, his hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you to a stop. “Hunting?” He repeats, his eyes narrowing as he studies you, his gaze piercing. “You nearly got caught by the sunrise. Do you have any idea what could have happened?”

You can’t help the small pout that forms on your lips as you turn to face him, your eyes wide, innocent. “I was fine, Carlos. I can take care of myself.”

But he doesn’t let go, his grip firm, unyielding. “That’s not the point, and you know it,” he says, his voice a low growl. “You were reckless. You put yourself at risk. And you made me worry.”

The guilt that flickers in your chest is quickly overshadowed by the thrill of his dominance, the way he’s looking at you now — like he could devour you whole, like he might just do it to prove a point.

You press your lips together, trying to suppress the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” you say, softening your tone, but there’s still a hint of defiance there, a challenge in the way you look at him.

Carlos’ eyes darken, and you know you’ve pushed him too far. “You need to understand something,” he says, his voice dropping even lower, each word a slow, deliberate threat. “I am your maker. When I tell you to be careful, you will listen. When I tell you to come home, you will come home. And when I command you to obey, you will obey.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, not out of fear, but out of something far more primal. The power he holds over you is intoxicating, and you feel it wrap around you like a vice, squeezing, tightening until you can barely breathe.

“Yes, Carlos,” you say, your voice a breathless whisper, your defiance crumbling beneath the weight of his command.

His gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, the air between you charged with electricity. Then he releases your wrist, but the hold he has on you is far from gone. He steps closer, his body crowding yours, and you find yourself backing up until your back hits the wall, trapping you in place.

“You think this is a game,” he says, his voice soft now, almost tender, but there’s a warning there, a promise of what’s to come. “But it’s not. You need to learn, querida.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You like to push me, don’t you?” He murmurs, his voice a dark, velvet caress. “You like to see how far you can go before I snap.”

A shudder runs through you, and you tilt your head slightly, giving him more access, more control. “Maybe,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s as dangerous as it is seductive. “Then I suppose I’ll have to show you exactly what happens when you push me too far.”

Before you can react, he’s on you, his mouth crashing down on yours with a force that steals your breath, a kiss that’s more punishment than pleasure. But you crave it, need it, and you kiss him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He doesn’t let up, his lips demanding, his tongue claiming you, dominating you with a skill that leaves you dizzy, disoriented. When he finally pulls back, you’re panting, your heart racing, and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes, the way he’s already won this game you’ve been playing.

But Carlos isn’t done. His hand trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake, until he’s gripping your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist. “You’re mine,” he says, his voice rough with possessiveness. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

The words send a jolt of heat through you, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as he presses his body against yours, trapping you between him and the wall. You can feel his strength, the raw power that he so rarely unleashes on you, and it makes you tremble with anticipation.

“I’m going to punish you,” Carlos whispers, his lips brushing against your neck, right over the spot where he first bit you, marking you as his forever. “But you’re going to love every second of it.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his promise settling over you like a heavy, suffocating blanket. “Carlos …” you begin, but your words trail off as his hand slides up under your dress, his fingers finding the heat between your legs with unerring accuracy.

You gasp, your body arching into his touch, but he’s not gentle, not this time. His fingers are demanding, ruthless, as they tease you, taunt you, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second. But even as the pleasure builds, a knot of tension coiling in your belly, you know he won’t let you have it — not yet.

Carlos leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You don’t get to come until I say so,” he commands, his voice low, dangerous. “No matter how badly you want it. Understand?”

You whimper, your body trembling as you try to process his words, but the pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and you’re not sure you can hold back. “Carlos … please …”

He tightens his grip on your thigh, his fingers still working you with relentless precision. “Do you understand?” He repeats, his voice sharp, cutting through the haze of your desire.

“Yes,” you gasp, the word slipping out before you can stop it. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” he says, and there’s a dark satisfaction in his voice, a thrill that sends another shiver down your spine. “Now be a good girl and take what I give you.”

His fingers delve deeper, and you’re helpless against the onslaught of sensation, your mind blanking out everything except the feel of him, the way he’s playing your body like a finely tuned instrument. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t reach that peak, can’t tip over the edge without his permission.

It’s maddening, frustrating in a way that leaves you teetering on the brink of insanity, and you can feel tears of desperation welling up in your eyes as you claw at him, begging for something you know he won’t give you.

“Please,” you sob, your voice raw, broken. “Please, Carlos … I need it …”

Carlos’ wicked smile lingers as he draws out your agony, savoring every moment of your desperate pleas. His fingers continue their relentless assault, pushing you closer and closer to the brink, but never allowing you the release you so desperately crave. It’s a torturous game, one that he’s mastered, and you’re helpless under his control.

Your breaths come in ragged gasps, and tears blur your vision as you claw at his back, your nails digging into his skin. “Carlos, please,” you beg, your voice breaking. “I’ll do anything … please …”

His eyes darken, the satisfaction in them almost predatory as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Anything?” He murmurs, his voice a seductive whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod frantically, your mind too clouded by desire to even consider the implications of what you’re agreeing to. “Yes, anything,” you gasp, your voice trembling with desperation. “Just … please …”

Carlos’ lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile as he shifts his hand slightly, changing the angle of his fingers, and you nearly scream at the overwhelming sensation. But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, he stops, his hand stilling completely.

“No!” The word tears from your throat in a ragged sob, and you feel the tears spill over, trailing down your cheeks as you shake your head in disbelief. “Carlos, please, don’t …”

He captures your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look up at him. His expression is intense, his gaze locking onto yours with a force that steals your breath. “Listen to me, mi amor,” he says, his voice low, commanding. “I need you to understand something.”

You try to nod, but his grip on your chin keeps you still, his hold unyielding as he continues. “You are mine,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You belong to me, body and soul. And as your maker, it is my responsibility to protect you, to keep you safe.”

You swallow hard, your breath catching in your throat as you feel the weight of his words, the gravity of the bond between you. It’s not just about possession, about control — it’s about something deeper, something primal that connects you in a way that goes beyond anything you’ve ever known.

“And you will never put yourself at risk again,” Carlos continues, his voice growing darker, more dangerous with each word. “Do you understand? You will never do anything that could endanger you, or anything that you know I would disapprove of.”

Your heart races as his words sink in, the power of his command wrapping around you like a vice, squeezing until it’s all you can think about, all you can feel. There’s no choice here, no room for defiance or rebellion — his will is absolute, and you are powerless against it.

“Yes, Carlos,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you nod slowly. “I understand.”

His eyes search yours, as if looking for any hint of doubt, any sign that you might disobey him. But you’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. The thought of going against him, of putting yourself in danger again, is unthinkable, not just because of the consequences, but because you know how much it would hurt him.

Carlos seems satisfied with your answer, his expression softening slightly as he releases your chin. “Good,” he says, his voice low, but no less commanding. “I don’t ever want to have this conversation again.”

You shake your head quickly, your heart pounding in your chest as you press yourself closer to him. “We won’t,” you promise, your voice trembling with sincerity. “I swear, Carlos. I’ll be careful. I won’t … I won’t make you worry again.”

For a moment, he simply stares at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, without warning, he crushes his lips against yours, kissing you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless, your body trembling under the force of his desire. It’s a kiss that’s both a punishment and a reward, a reminder of the power he holds over you and the depths of his need for you.

Carlos’ hands are everywhere, his touch rough, possessive, as he pulls you even closer, his body pressing against yours until there’s no space left between you. You can feel his control slipping, the leash he’s kept on himself fraying with each passing second, and it only heightens your own need, your own desperate desire to be consumed by him.

He pulls back slightly, his lips trailing down your neck, and you shiver as his breath ghosts over your skin. “You drive me crazy,” he murmurs against your throat, his voice low, a growl that sends a thrill of anticipation through you. “Do you know that? You push me to the edge, and I can’t help but want to take you there with me.”

Your breath hitches as you feel his fangs scrape against your skin, a light, teasing touch that makes you whimper in anticipation. “Carlos …”

His name is a plea, a prayer, and you feel his lips curve into a smile against your neck. “Tell me what you want, amor,” he whispers, his voice dark and seductive. “Beg me for it.”

Your heart races, your body trembling as you clutch at him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please,” you gasp, your voice desperate, pleading. “Please, Carlos … I need it. I need you.”

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s both cruel and comforting, and you feel his hand slide down to grip your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist. “I want to hear you say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the spot where your pulse races just beneath the surface. “Beg me to bite you.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you know he’s testing you, pushing you to the edge of your endurance. But you’re too far gone to care, too desperate for his touch, his bite, to even think about pride or resistance.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you tilt your head back, offering him your throat. “Please, Carlos … bite me. I need it. I need you.”

Carlos growls low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through you, igniting a fire deep in your core. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough with approval. “You’ve been so good for me.”

His lips brush against your skin, soft and teasing, before he sinks his fangs into your neck with a sharp, sudden bite. The pain is brief, almost sweet, as it melts into a wave of pleasure that crashes over you, stealing your breath, your thoughts, until there’s nothing left but the feel of him, the way he consumes you.

Your vision blurs as the sensation overwhelms you, your body trembling uncontrollably in his arms. You can feel the pull of his fangs, the way he draws your blood with each slow, deliberate suck, and it’s intoxicating, a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

But even as you feel yourself slipping away, lost in the ecstasy of his bite, Carlos is there, grounding you, his hands strong and sure as they hold you close. You can hear his voice, a low, soothing murmur in your ear, though you can’t make out the words — just the sound of it, the way it wraps around you, comforting you even as he drains you.

And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, just as you feel yourself beginning to fade, Carlos pulls back, his fangs slipping from your neck as he licks the wound closed with a tenderness that belies the intensity of his actions.

You’re left gasping, your body trembling with aftershocks, and you can barely hold yourself up as you cling to him, your mind a haze of pleasure and exhaustion. But Carlos isn’t done with you yet. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with a gentleness that makes your heart ache.

He hovers over you, his eyes dark and unreadable as he studies your face, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “You’re mine,” he says softly, his voice full of possessiveness, but also something deeper, something that makes your chest tighten with emotion. “Always.”

You can only nod, your voice lost in the whirlwind of sensations that still linger in your body. But you don’t need words — he can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you cling to him, the way your body responds to his every touch.

Carlos leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s achingly tender, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier actions. It’s a kiss that seals a promise, a bond that goes beyond the physical, beyond the blood you’ve shared.

But even as he pulls away, his eyes darken with something else, something that makes your pulse quicken with anticipation. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, his voice a low, dangerous purr that sends a thrill of excitement through you. “You still haven’t earned your release, querida.”

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat as his words sink in. You’re still trembling, still reeling from the pleasure of his bite, but you know better than to think he’s going to let you off easy. Carlos is nothing if not thorough, and when he promises to punish you, he always follows through.

Carlos’ words hang in the air, a tantalizing promise that leaves you trembling with anticipation. His body is a solid weight against yours, pinning you to the bed, and every touch, every brush of his skin against yours sends shockwaves of desire through you.

Yet, there’s a new tension in the room now, something more than just the heady mix of pain and pleasure. It’s the awareness that this is a punishment — a lesson, a reminder of the power he holds over you. But even as you dread the torment he might inflict, a part of you craves it, revels in the way he takes control.

“Do you remember what I told you?” Carlos’ voice is a low growl, rich with authority, and you can feel the rumble of it in his chest against yours. His hand trails down your side, a teasing touch that makes you shiver. “About how you’re not allowed to tip over the edge until I say so?”

You swallow hard, your throat dry, and nod slowly. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your need. “I remember.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a dangerous smile as he watches your reaction. “Because I’m not finished with you yet. Not even close.”

With deliberate slowness, he shifts his body, moving down your length, and the absence of his weight leaves you feeling exposed, vulnerable. His hands glide over your skin, tracing patterns that make you gasp, his touch both soothing and electrifying. You try to lift your hips, desperate for some kind of friction, but Carlos’ hands are there, holding you down with a gentle but firm pressure.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts softly, shaking his head. “No moving. You’re going to lie there and take what I give you, understand?”

Your breath catches at the command in his voice, and you bite your lip, nodding. “Yes, Carlos,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.

His eyes darken with approval, and you can feel the heat of his gaze as it roams over your body, taking in every inch of you. “That’s my girl,” he purrs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “So obedient … so eager to please.”

Carlos’ hands slide lower, over the curve of your hips, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you shudder as his fingers brush against the place where you ache for him the most. But just as quickly, he pulls back, leaving you teetering on the edge of frustration.

You let out a small, involuntary whimper, your body trembling with need, and Carlos’ eyes flash with something dark and primal. “Patience, mi amor,” he whispers, his voice a soothing caress. “You’ll get what you want … but only when I’m ready to give it to you.”

The anticipation is excruciating, each passing second a slow torture as Carlos continues to explore your body with languid, deliberate movements. Every brush of his fingers, every kiss he places on your skin, is designed to drive you mad with desire, to push you closer and closer to the edge without ever letting you fall over.

“Carlos,” you gasp, your voice trembling as you reach for him, needing to feel him, to touch him. “Please …”

But he catches your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head as he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re not in charge here,” he murmurs, his voice dark with intent. “I am. You’ll come when I say you can, and not a second before.”

The power in his words sends a thrill through you, even as you struggle against the restraints he’s placed on you. There’s something intoxicating about surrendering completely to him, about giving up control and letting him take the lead. And as much as it frustrates you, you can’t deny the way your body responds to his dominance, to the way he commands you with just a word, a touch.

Carlos releases your wrists, but the weight of his command keeps you in place, your arms trembling as you resist the urge to reach for him again. He moves lower, his lips trailing down your stomach, and you can’t help the way your muscles twitch under his touch, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

He pauses just above your core, his breath ghosting over your skin, and your hips lift instinctively, seeking contact, but he pulls back again, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “So impatient,” he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement. “But I suppose I can’t blame you … after all, I’ve kept you waiting for so long.”

Your breath hitches as he finally dips his head, his mouth descending on you with a deliberate slowness that makes you gasp. The first touch of his tongue is a shock of pleasure that sends a jolt through your body, and you arch off the bed, a cry tearing from your throat.

Carlos hums in approval, his grip on your thighs tightening as he holds you in place, his tongue working you with a skill that leaves you breathless. He’s relentless, his movements precise, calculated to push you closer and closer to the edge without ever letting you tip over.

You’re a mess of gasps and moans, your hands clutching at the sheets as you writhe under his touch, your body straining for release that remains just out of reach. The tension coils tighter and tighter, until you feel like you might shatter from the pressure.

“Carlos … please …” The words are a broken plea, a desperate cry for mercy, and you can hear the raw need in your own voice.

But Carlos is unmoved, his pace steady, unyielding as he pushes you further, dragging out your torment until you’re trembling with the effort of holding back. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and there’s a fire in them, a hunger that takes your breath away.

“Do you want to come, querida?” He asks, his voice a low, seductive growl that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice shaking with desperation. “Please, Carlos … I need to …”

“Then beg for it,” he commands, his gaze locked on yours. “Beg me to let you come.”

The words send a thrill of anticipation through you, and you can feel your resolve crumbling, your pride slipping away in the face of your overwhelming need. “Please, Carlos,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Please … let me come. I can’t … I can’t take it anymore …”

Carlos’ lips curve into a satisfied smile, and he rewards your submission with a quick flick of his tongue that makes you cry out, your body arching off the bed. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. “You’ve been so good for me … I think you’ve earned it.”

His words are your undoing, the permission you’ve been craving, and as soon as they leave his lips, you feel the tension snap, the release crashing over you in a wave of pleasure so intense it leaves you gasping for breath. Your vision blurs, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as Carlos continues to work you through it, his hands and mouth relentless as he draws out every last drop of pleasure.

It’s too much, too overwhelming, and you find yourself sobbing with the intensity of it, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. But Carlos is there, grounding you, his touch soothing as he eases you back down, his lips trailing soft kisses along your skin.

When the last of the tremors finally subside, you collapse against the bed, utterly spent, your body trembling with aftershocks. Carlos lifts his head, his eyes dark and intense as he watches you, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

“You did so well, mi amor,” he murmurs, his voice soft with affection as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “I’m so proud of you.”

You can’t find the words to respond, your voice lost in the haze of pleasure and exhaustion that lingers in your body. But you don’t need to say anything — Carlos can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you relax into his touch.

He shifts, moving to lie beside you, and you immediately curl into him, seeking the warmth of his embrace. Carlos wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent.

For a long moment, there’s only silence, the two of you lying together in the aftermath of your shared pleasure. But even as your body begins to calm, your mind is racing, replaying the events of the night, the way Carlos took control, the way he commanded you.

It’s a heady feeling, knowing that you belong to him, that he holds this power over you. But it’s also comforting, a reminder that you’re safe, protected, that Carlos will always be there to guide you, to take care of you.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can think to stop them.

Carlos stiffens slightly, and you feel a pang of uncertainty, wondering if you’ve said the wrong thing. But then he’s tilting your chin up, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “More than anything.”

The sincerity in his voice, the raw honesty of his words, takes your breath away, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Carlos …”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips soft and tender against yours, and you can feel the depth of his feelings in that simple touch. It's a kiss that seals a promise, one that transcends words, binding the two of you together in a way that’s eternal, unbreakable.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a look in his eyes that speaks volumes — a silent vow that no matter what comes, you’ll face it together. “Forever,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress, and you know he means it in every sense.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you rest your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace. “Forever,” you echo, feeling the word settle into your very soul.

In his arms, you feel complete, whole in a way you never imagined possible. And as the night wraps around you like a blanket, you let yourself drift, knowing that with Carlos by your side, eternity doesn’t seem nearly long enough.

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stylesispunk · 4 months ago

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"Did the love affair maim you too"? Part iii

Joel Miller x f!reader

previous chapter | next chapter

Summary: Joel is trying to recover and understand his feelings for you, or It took him almost to lose you to know how important you are to him.

word count: 14k (this is what I call, the filling chapter)

warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of blood, injuries, and mentions of death, more angst. (haha) f

a/n: Hello! Part 3 is here! Once again, I want to thank everyone who had read this story, so much love for you. I don't feel so proud about this one, this chapter is more like a filling one, the one stuck in the middle, the important things that will happen here were going to happen but not in the same way because I wrote it in a rush and after being sad because of a man. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

The storm kept raging outside, with fury, while these four walls you were in were protecting you from the haunting memories on your mind.

Your heart was beating hard against your ribs; you could feel the air abandoning your lungs, and your head was spinning all over the place, trying to focus your racing thoughts on another thing but Joel.

The Joel who was standing in your living room.

The Joel who remembered your fear of storms

The Joel who had come to your house to protect you from your demons.

The Joel who was now looking at you with a glimpse of hope in his eyes, patiently waiting for you to utter a word.

“You said you would never wear that t-shirt again,” you said bitterly, your voice tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t anger, but it wasn’t quite sadness either. It was a fine line between a lingering sense of loss and longing for him.

A feeling you couldn’t let go.

Joel’s gaze flicked down to the shirt he was wearing, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I did, didn’t I?” he said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “I said a lot of things that morning.”

You remembered that morning all too well. It was the day everything changed—the day Joel had looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded in a world gone mad. But then he got his memories back, and the man who had loved you was gone, replaced by the same cold, distant Joel who had once barely tolerated your presence.

“I said a lot of things too,” you replied, your voice trembling with the effort to keep your emotions in check. “But none of it matters now, does it?”

Joel flinched at the bitterness in your tone, his hand rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous habit you had come to recognize. “It matters,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find something in the depths of your gaze. “I just… I don’t remember everything, but I remember you. I remember enough to know that I don’t want to lose you.”

The air in your lungs got stuck. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that the man who had once loved you was still in there somewhere, fighting to break free. But the wounds of his departure were still too fresh, too raw.

“It’s not that simple,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the howling wind. “You don’t just get to pick up where we left off, Joel. You can’t just—”

“I know,” he cut in, his voice firm but not unkind. He took a step closer, his boots scruffing against the worn floorboards. “I know it’s not that simple. But I’m here now, and I’m not leaving. Not again. Not unless you tell me to.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. The walls around you felt like they were closing in, the memories of what you had lost pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t bear. You had built up defenses and kept people at arm’s length because losing them hurt too much. But here was Joel, standing before you, offering a glimmer of something you thought was lost forever.

“What do you want, Joel?” You said, your voice almost breaking.

Joel hesitated, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to find the right words, the ones that would make both of you go back in time to that night when you shared your “I love you” for the first time, even though you both knew it wasn't that simple. The storm outside roared on, shaking the walls, but it was the storm inside that threatened to tear you apart.

“I want…” He trailed off, running a hand through his damp hair, his brow furrowed in thought. “I want to make things right. I know I messed up; I know I hurt you—hell, I hurt myself too. But I can’t keep pretending like you don’t matter, like this—” he gestured between the two of you, “—doesn’t matter.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it harder to keep the walls up, but you couldn't just let him back in, not after everything. “You can’t just say that and expect it to fix things,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t remember, Joel. You don’t remember what we had.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t remember everything, and I don’t know if I ever will. But I remember enough to know that losing you would be the worst mistake of my life.”

You swallowed hard, the emotions welling up inside you, threatening to spill over.

“I-I- When you’re close to me, I feel like I can’t breathe.” He said emotions made his voice tremble. “All that pain I get from the migraines stops the second you’re a closer, and I didn’t know why, but my body somehow felt it. It’s like something inside my chest is aching for you.”

Joel's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his confession. The raw vulnerability in his voice was something you hadn't heard in him before, something that cut through the layers of hurt and anger you'd built up around yourself. The storm outside seemed to intensify as if echoing the turmoil within you, but all you could focus on was the man standing before you, baring his soul in a way that left you breathless.

Your heart raced as you tried to process what he was saying, the truth of his words settling deep into your bones. The walls you had put up to protect yourself, to keep him at a distance, were crumbling, and the emotions you had tried so hard to keep buried were bubbling to the surface.

“I don’t know what this is,” he continued, his voice trembling as he struggled to find the right words. “But I can’t ignore it. I’ve tried; God knows I’ve tried, but I can’t. Every time I’m near you, it’s like something inside me is telling me that I need you, that I can’t lose you again.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you bit your lip, trying to keep them at bay. You wanted to stay strong, to keep the walls up, but Joel’s words were breaking through every defense you had. His pain, his confusion, mirrored your own, and the connection between you was undeniable, even if it was tangled up in the mess of lost memories and shattered trust.

“I’m scared, Joel,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. It was the first time you had allowed yourself to say it out loud, to acknowledge the fear that had been gnawing at you ever since he had walked back into your life. “I’m scared of getting hurt again, of losing you all over again.”

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’m scared too,” he confessed, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped down your cheek. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Joel continued, his voice thick with emotion. “After today, I went to my house, and I remembered kissing you. I remember your face everywhere, and it felt like my own heart feared my feelings because I know I did things wrong with you, and I don’t want this.” He spoke.

“What do you mean?” you asked, feeling the tears in the corner of your eyes.

“I don’t want to love you,” he confessed.

Joel's confession hung in the air like a heavy weight, pressing down on both of you. His words were raw, laced with a vulnerability that was almost painful to witness. You felt your breath catch in your throat, the tears that had been threatening to spill over finally breaking free.

For a moment, you were stunned into silence, the admission cutting through you like a knife. The honesty in his voice, the fear that laced his words—it was all too much, too overwhelming.

I don’t want to love you felt like an insult being thrown at you.

You had allowed him to get closer and touch you just to be hurt by his words again.

You took a step back, pulling away from his touch as the hurt washed over you in waves. “Why would you say that?” You choked out, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. "Why did you come here to say that to me?”

Joel’s face crumpled, regret and anguish etched into his features as he saw the effect his words had on you. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. But I’m scared, and I don’t know how to handle this.”

The room felt stifling, the walls closing in as the weight of his confession settled between you. You had allowed yourself to hope, to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could have something good in this broken world. But now, that hope felt like it was slipping through your fingers, leaving you with nothing but the cold, harsh reality of what was happening.

“I let you in,” you whispered, the tears streaming down your face. “I let you get close, and now you’re telling me you don’t want it? That you don’t want me?”

“No,” Joel said quickly, shaking his head as he reached for you, but you took another step back, keeping the distance between you. “That’s not what I’m saying. I do want you—I want you more than anything. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what it means and of what I could lose. I’ve lost so much already, and I don’t know if I can take losing you too.”

His words tugged at your heart, but the hurt was still too fresh, too raw. “You’re hurting me right now, Joel,” you said, your voice trembling. “By telling me you don’t want to love me, you’re hurting me more.”

Joel's face twisted in anguish as he heard your words, the pain in your voice cutting through him like a knife. He took a shaky breath, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and desperation.

“I don’t know how to deal with this,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. It’s all so damn confusing, and I’m scared—scared of what loving you means, scared of what it could cost me, scared of how much I want you.”

His confession hung in the air, thick with the weight of emotions neither of you had been prepared to confront. The vulnerability in his eyes was something you had rarely seen in him, and it shook you to your core.

“I’ve spent so long keeping everyone at arm’s length,” Joel continued, his voice cracking under the strain of his emotions. “It was easier that way, safer. But you got under my skin. You made me feel things I thought I’d forgotten how to feel. And now, I don’t know what to do with all of it.”

You wanted to be angry, to lash out at him for pulling you in just to push you away, but the pain in his eyes was so real, so raw, that your anger melted away, leaving only a deep, aching sadness in its place.

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The truth was, you were terrified—terrified of the feelings that were still so raw, so unresolved. Terrified of the possibility of opening yourself up again, only to be hurt even more deeply.

“I would rather lose you now than do it later,” you whispered, finally meeting his eyes. “The world we live in, the losses we’ve faced—it’s too much. And I don’t know if I can survive losing someone else again.”

Joel’s face tightened, his jaw clenching as he absorbed your words. The pain etched into his features was almost unbearable to see, a reflection of the turmoil that had been brewing between you both for so long.

“I get it,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “I’ve lost more than I ever thought I could bear too. But walking away now, pushing me out—that won’t make it hurt any less if something happens. It just means we never had a chance to try.”

You shook your head, the tears welling up in your eyes. “But what if trying just makes it worse? What if we end up hating each other even more because of it?”

Joel took a small step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m scared too,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “But I’d rather take that risk with you than walk away and always wonder what we could’ve had. Because whether you see it or not, you’ve already gotten under my skin. I don’t want to let you go, not when I feel like I’m just starting to remember why I care.”

Your breath hitched, his words pulling at the fragile strings of your heart. The honesty in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice—it was everything you had feared and longed for all at once.

“But what if it falls apart?” You whispered, the uncertainty trembling in your voice.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Joel said, his voice steady.

The storm outside continued to rage, the wind howling against the walls of the house, but inside, a fragile understanding was beginning to form. It wasn’t a solution; it wasn’t a cure for the pain you both carried, but it was a step—a small, tentative step towards something more.

“You treated me so badly,” you sobbed, shaking your head.

Joel's expression softened, the weight of your words pressing down on him. He knew you were right—he had treated you badly, even before everything had changed. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the mistakes he had made.

"I know," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I know I did, and I'm so damn sorry for that. I was... I was lost, and I took it out on you. I pushed you away because I was scared—scared of letting someone in, scared of getting close. But that doesn't excuse what I did. You didn’t deserve any of it."

“But you did it anyway,” you choked out, your voice breaking with the weight of your emotions. “You hurt me, Joel. You made me feel like I was nothing, like I didn’t matter.”

His hand trembled as he reached out to you, his fingers brushing against your arm in a hesitant, almost pleading gesture. “You matter more to me than you know,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “I see that now, and I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I don’t know how to make up for what I did, but I want to try. I want to be better, for you and for me.”

“I didn’t choose to fall in love with you, Joel,” you shot, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions. “But here we are, and it’s tearing me apart!”

The room seemed to vibrate with the intensity of your argument, the storm outside a reflection of the storm within. Neither of you wanted to back down; both were too hurt and confused to see a way forward.

“Why are you so afraid of letting me in now?” Joel asked, his voice softer but still filled with desperation. “What’s changed? What’s different to the last time?”

You hesitated, the truth clawing at your throat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. I couldn’t admit that you were terrified of losing him again, of opening yourself up only to have it all ripped away.

“What’s changed?” Joel pressed, “Tell me.”

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, the weight of everything you had been holding back finally broke through. “I’m afraid, Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m afraid that if I let myself love you again, it’s going to destroy me. And I don’t know if I can survive that. I can’t lose someone for a third time.”

Joel’s expression softened, his frustration giving way to something deeper, a sadness that mirrored your own. He reached out as if to touch you but hesitated, his hand hovering between you as if uncertain of its place.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly, the weight of his own fears etched in every word. “But I’m scared too, scared of what happens if we don’t try. I know I screwed up, and I know I can’t take back what I did, but losing you without even trying? I don’t think I can live with that.”

His voice was raw, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t heard before. The storm outside seemed to still for a moment, the wind’s howl dying down as the two of you stood there, the silence between you filled with the unspoken pain and longing that had been building for weeks.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right away,” Joel continued, his eyes never leaving yours. “And I’m not asking you to forget what happened. But I am asking for a chance—a chance to prove that I’m not going to walk away again, that I’m not going to forget what you mean to me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you looked at him. His words touched something deep inside you, a part of you that still longed for the connection you’d once shared, despite everything that had happened.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Joel,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can survive losing you a second time.”

He took a step closer, finally closing the distance between you, his hand finding yours in a tentative, gentle touch. “I’m not going to put pressure on you, okay?” he assured you. “For now, let me stay here so you don’t have to be afraid of the storm alone, okay?”

You hesitated, your emotions a tangled mess of fear, longing, and uncertainty. The storm outside was relentless, the wind howling and rain lashing against the windows, mirroring the turmoil inside you. But there was something in Joel’s voice, in the gentle way he held your hand, that made you want to believe him.

“Okay,” you finally whispered, nodding slightly. “You can stay.”

Joel’s expression softened with relief, and he gently squeezed your hand, as if to reassure you that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened still hanging heavy in the air. But for now, in this small, fragile moment, there was a sense of peace between you.

Joel glanced around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings before his gaze returned to you. “Where do you want me to set up?” he asked, his voice gentle, as if he didn’t want to disrupt the delicate balance of the moment.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “You can stay in the living room,” you said, gesturing toward the couch. “I’ll get some blankets for you.”

He nodded, watching as you moved to gather what he’d need. As you handed him the blankets, your fingers brushed against his, and you felt a warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill in the air.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Joel asked, his concern evident as he unfolded the blankets.

You managed a small, faint smile. “I’ll be fine,” you said, though the truth was, you weren’t entirely sure. But for now, having him close, knowing you weren’t alone in the storm, brought a small measure of comfort.

Joel settled onto the couch, arranging the blankets around him. As you turned to head back to your room, you paused, glancing back at him. He was watching you, his eyes filled with a mixture of worry and something else, something deeper that you couldn’t quite name.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the storm.

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice equally soft. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

Joel made his way through the snow-dusted streets of Jackson, his breath puffing out in clouds as he walked toward Lori's house. The early morning light cast long shadows, the town still quiet except for the distant sound of someone chopping wood. The air was crisp, biting at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the unease twisting in his gut.

He reached Lori’s door and knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness. After a moment, the door creaked open, and Lori stood there, wrapped in a thick sweater, her hair tousled from sleep.

“Joel?” she asked, surprise flickering across her face. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I needed to talk to you,” Joel said, his tone serious. He stepped inside when she gestured him in, the warmth of the house enveloping him.

Lori led him to the small living area, where a fire crackled in the hearth. She sat down on the worn couch, motioning for him to join her, but Joel remained standing, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“What’s going on?” Lori asked, concern creeping into her voice as she noticed his tension.

Joel took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Lori, I need to be honest with you,” he began, his voice steady but laced with regret. “What we’ve been doing—it was never meant to be serious, and I think we both knew that.”

Lori’s expression shifted slightly, her eyes narrowing as she searched his face. “Yeah, I know. We were just having fun, keeping things casual. But why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”

Joel nodded, appreciating her straightforwardness. “There is,” he admitted. “I’ve been figuring some things out, and I’ve realized that I can’t keep doing this. I’ve got someone else in my life, someone who means more to me than I even realized until recently. I need to focus on that, on her.”

Lori’s shoulders slumped slightly, and she let out a small, resigned sigh. “You’re talking about her, aren’t you? The nurse?”

Joel nodded, unable to meet her eyes for a moment. “Yeah. I need to make things right with her.”

Lori’s demeanor shifted noticeably, her smile fading into a tight, bitter expression. “So, you’re just going to walk away? After everything?”

Joel winced at the edge in her voice, sensing that this wasn’t going to go as smoothly as he had hoped. “I’m not walking away from you out of spite. I just need to make a choice, and right now, my focus has to be on fixing what I’ve broken.”

Lori crossed her arms, her eyes flashing with anger. “So, what? You think you can just come here, say a few words, and everything will be okay? You think you can just turn your back on me and expect me to be fine with it?”

Joel took a step closer, trying to keep his tone calm. “Lori, this isn’t about making you okay with it. This is about me trying to do what’s right. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear.”

Her anger flared. “Right? What’s right? You think it’s right to just discard people like they don’t matter? You think you can just decide to play at relationships and then bail when it suits you?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Joel said, his voice heavy with regret. “But I can’t keep pretending this isn’t what it is. I need to focus on the person who really matters to me.”

Lori’s face was flushed with emotion, her voice rising. “You know what, Joel? Maybe you should have thought about that before you got involved with me. Maybe you should have been honest from the start instead of playing games.”

Joel looked away, feeling the weight of her words. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But I can’t change what’s happened. I can only try to make things right moving forward.”

Lori’s eyes were filled with frustration and hurt. “Yeah, well, it’s a little too late for that now. You should go.”

Joel nodded, feeling the sting of her words. “I understand. I’m sorry for everything.”

As Joel made his way back through Jackson, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in his chest. Ending things with Lori had been the right thing to do, but it also felt like one more piece of his life was falling apart. And now, all he could think about was the fragile connection he was trying to rebuild with you.

But Lori wouldn’t let things go so easily. Hurt and angry, she wasn’t ready to accept that Joel could just walk away from her.

You found yourself slipping back into old habits, avoiding Joel at every turn, retreating into your own space whenever he was near. The fragile connection you had started to rebuild felt too delicate, too vulnerable, and the fear of what it might mean was overwhelming. So, you did what you had always done when things got too close: you pushed him away.

You threw yourself into your work, taking extra shifts on the infirmary, volunteering for the more dangerous runs that others were hesitant to take. Anything to keep your mind occupied and your heart locked away. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the memory of Joel’s confession lingered, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

Every time you crossed paths with Joel, you made sure to keep the interaction as brief as possible. A curt nod, a mumbled greeting, and then you were gone before he could say anything more. You avoided the places you knew he frequented, taking different routes and making excuses to stay away from the common areas where you might run into him. You even started leaving for your shifts earlier and returning later, ensuring that you would miss him entirely.

But Joel wasn’t blind to what you were doing. He noticed the way you avoided his gaze, the way you kept your distance, and it cut him deeper than he would ever admit. The truth was, he understood why you were doing it. After everything that had happened between you—the misunderstandings, the hurt, the fear—it made sense that you would want to protect yourself.

Still, that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

As days passed, you found yourself trying to avoid Joel at all costs. You busied yourself with your duties, went out of your way to steer clear of places where you might run into him, and kept your interactions with others brief and impersonal. The emotional turmoil and the fear of vulnerability were too overwhelming for you to face him directly.

Joel, for his part, made several attempts to reach out. He tried to catch you in the common hall, to corner you in the infirmary, or to find a moment alone when you were on patrol. But every time, you were quick to deflect or disappear before he could get close.

One afternoon, as you were finishing up a shift at the infirmary, Joel appeared at the doorway. He hesitated, searching your face for any sign of recognition or willingness to talk. His heart ached at the sight of you, knowing how much he had hurt you and feeling powerless to bridge the gap between you.

You were in the middle of organizing some supplies when he cleared his throat, catching your attention. You looked up, your expression guarded.

"Hey," Joel began, his voice soft but filled with emotion. "Can we talk?"

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze. "There’s nothing to talk about, Joel. Not right now."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I know I’ve messed things up. I just—"

"I said no," you interrupted, trying to keep your voice steady. "I need some space."

Joel’s footsteps echoed softly in the hallway as he closed the distance between you. His presence was undeniable, and the intensity in his gaze was palpable even if you refused to meet it.

“Please,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Just a moment. I need you to hear me out.”

You could feel the weight of his words pressing against your resolve. The space you had demanded was shrinking with every step he took closer. Your heart pounded in your chest, and the air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken tension.

“You don’t understand,” Joel continued, his voice tinged with frustration and desperation. “I’m not asking for everything to be okay right now. I just need a chance to show you that I’m willing to change.”

You finally looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were filled with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve, and for a moment, you saw the man behind the mistakes—the man who was still trying to find his way back.

“Why should I believe you? You came to my house in the middle of the night, then you were nowhere to be found next morning.” You said, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to remain composed. “After everything that’s happened, why should I trust that you’ll actually change?”

Joel’s expression softened, and he took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because I know I’ve hurt you, and I hate that I’ve done that. But I’m not giving up. I’m trying to be better, for myself and for you. I know it’s going to take time, but I need you to at least let me show you that I’m trying.”

The air between you was charged, the emotions swirling around like a storm ready to break. You could feel the warmth of his body radiating towards you, and despite your best efforts to hold your ground, you found yourself drawn to the intensity of the moment.

“Joel,” you began, but the words caught in your throat. The storm in your heart was a tempest of conflicting feelings, and you struggled to find a path through it.

Joel reached out slowly, his hand on your waist, sending a shiver down your spine.

Joel’s hand rested gently on your waist, and the touch was electrifying. It sent a shiver down your spine, stirring feelings that you had tried to bury beneath layers of hurt and confusion. His gaze was unwavering, filled with a depth of emotion that seemed to pierce through the storm clouded in your heart.

“I know I can’t undo the past,” Joel said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m here now, and I want to make things right. I need you to know that I’m trying, even if it’s hard to believe.”

Your breath hitched as his touch lingered, the warmth of his hand seeping through the fabric of your clothes and pressing against your skin. The proximity was almost overwhelming, and you could feel the gravity of the moment pulling you closer to him.

For a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. The memories of past pain and anger were still there, but they were overshadowed by the raw vulnerability in Joel’s eyes. His presence was a powerful force, and it was hard to ignore the way he made you feel—caught between the past and the promise of something new.

“Joel,” you whispered again, but this time your voice was filled with a mixture of longing and apprehension. “I don’t know if I can, if I’m ready.”

Joel’s eyes softened, and he took a small, hesitant step closer, his hand still resting on your waist. “You don’t have to be ready right now. I’m not asking for everything to be fixed in an instant. I just want you to know that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

The sincerity in his voice and the gentle touch of his hand were almost too much to bear. You felt the walls you had built around yourself beginning to crumble, and the storm in your heart seemed to calm, if only slightly.

“I just need to figure things out,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I need time.”

Joel nodded, his expression a mix of understanding and relief. “Take all the time you need.” He assured you, “But I want to let you know I begged Tommy to put us together on patrol tomorrow.”

You looked at him, surprised by his insistence. “Why would you do that?”

Joel’s gaze was unwavering, a mix of resolve and vulnerability. “Because I want to be there for you. I want to show you that I’m committed to making things right, even if it means being there for you on patrol, even if it’s just another day together.”

His honesty was disarming, and despite the confusion and pain, you felt a flicker of warmth at his gesture. You understood his need to be close, to prove his commitment in any way he could.

“I appreciate that,” you said softly, your voice tinged with both gratitude and hesitation. “But I need to make sure I’m ready. I don’t want to bring any more complications.”

Joel nodded, his eyes showing a mixture of understanding and resolve. “I get it. Just know that I’m not pushing you. I’m here to support you, however you need.”

The sincerity in his eyes and the softness of his tone made it clear that he was willing to wait, to be patient. As the moment stretched between you, the storm in your heart seemed to settle even more, leaving behind a fragile sense of calm.

With a final, gentle squeeze on your waist, Joel stepped back, giving you the space you needed. “Get some rest,” he said softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As you watched him walk away, the promise of a new day together hung in the air, a delicate thread of hope amidst the lingering uncertainties. The path forward was still uncertain, but for now, there was a small but significant step towards healing and reconnection.

The days after the storm, the skies were clear, a crisp blue stretching above Jackson as you and Joel prepared for your patrol. Despite the lingering tension from the night before, there was an unspoken agreement between you to carry on as usual, to slip back into the familiar rhythm of your routine.

The morning was quiet, the only sound being the crunch of gravel underfoot as you walked side by side, your horses trailing behind you. The air was cool, the ground still damp from the storm, and the world felt strangely peaceful after the chaos of the previous night.

As you rode through the woods, the silence between you was comfortable, but as always, it didn’t take long for a familiar banter to spark up.

“You always insist on taking the longer route,” Joel grumbled, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “We could be back by lunch if we just cut through the valley.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And miss out on the view from the ridge? Not a chance. Besides, you’re always in such a hurry. What’s the rush, Joel?”

“I just don’t see the point in dragging things out when there’s work to be done,” he shot back, though there was no real heat in his voice. It was the kind of argument you had a dozen times before, more out of habit than any real disagreement.

“You need to learn to appreciate the little things,” you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Like this beautiful day and the fact that we’re not freezing our asses off in a storm.”

Joel huffed, though you could see the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a smile. “You sound like Tommy,” he muttered.

You were about to respond when your foot caught on a loose rock, sending you stumbling forward. It happened so quickly that you barely had time to react, your arms flailing as you tried to regain your balance.

But before you could hit the ground, Joel’s hand shot out, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you back. The force of the movement caused you to overcompensate, and instead of falling to the ground, you ended up falling right into Joel, your chest colliding with his as you both tumbled backward.

You landed on top of him with an “oof,” your hands braced against his chest as you tried to steady yourself. For a moment, neither of you moved, the sudden closeness freezing you both in place.

Your faces were inches apart, your breath mingling with his as you looked down at him, your eyes locking. You could feel his heart pounding under your hands, the rapid thud of it mirroring your own.

The world around you seemed to fade away; the only thing you could focus on was the way his eyes searched yours, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. There was something raw and unguarded in the way he looked at you, as if he were seeing you for the first time, or maybe remembering you in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

“Careful there,” Joel said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.”

His words were gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something that made your heart race even faster. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, the roughness of his hands as they held you steady, and for a moment, you were lost in the sensation, in the closeness of him.

“Thanks,” you breathed, your voice just as soft. You didn’t move; you didn’t dare break the moment, but you knew you couldn’t stay like this forever.

Reluctantly, you started to pull back, but not before you saw the flicker of disappointment in Joel’s eyes. It was there for just a second, but it was enough to make your heart ache and remind you of the delicate balance you were trying to maintain.

Once you were back on your feet, you offered him a hand, helping him up. He took it, his grip firm but lingering just a moment longer than necessary, his touch sending a warm tingle through you.

“Guess I should watch where I’m going,” you said with a small, self-deprecating laugh, trying to break the tension.

Joel just nodded, his eyes still on you, something unreadable in his expression. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “You should.”

“You blushed,” Joel said softly, his voice carrying a teasing edge as he dusted off his clothes.

His words caught you off guard, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, the flush creeping up your neck as you realized he was right. You had blushed, and he had noticed.

“I did not,” you muttered, though the denial was weak, the embarrassment clear in your tone as you tried to avoid his gaze.

Joel just chuckled, the sound low and rich, and there was a warmth in his eyes that made your stomach flutter. “Sure, you didn’t,” he said, clearly unconvinced. He wasn’t about to let you off the hook that easily.

You shook your head, trying to will away the blush that you knew was only deepening with every second. “Just watch where you’re going next time,” you shot back, trying to deflect the attention from yourself.

Joel smirked, his expression softening as he looked at you with that familiar mix of amusement and affection. “You’re the one who tripped,” he reminded you, but there was no real bite to his words. If anything, he seemed almost pleased, as if the moment had lightened the tension that had been lingering between you since the night before.

You huffed in mock annoyance, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your true feelings. “Fine, you win this round,” you conceded, rolling your eyes playfully.

Joel just shook his head, still smiling as he started walking again; his pace slowed enough for you to fall in step beside him. “Don’t worry,” he said, his tone more serious now, though the warmth remained. “I’ve got your back. Always.”

His words, simple as they were, carried a weight that made your heart ache in the best way. You knew he meant it. For a mere moment of time, Joel seemed to be the one who woke up that day after his accident convinced he was going to make you fall in love with him. And though you weren’t sure what the future held, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in his presence.

“I have to ask you something,” you began, unsure of how approaching the delicate topic you were about to dive into

“Sure.”

“When your daughter died.“

Joel’s reaction was immediate, his expression shifting from the tender warmth of a moment ago to a guarded hardness. His eyes, which had been so open and vulnerable, narrowed as he looked at you, his body tensing.

“How do you know about that?” He asked, his voice low and edged with a defensiveness you hadn’t heard from him in a long time.

You hesitated, realizing that you had touched on a wound that was still raw and still painful for him. The last thing you wanted was to push him away, especially when things had been starting to mend between you.

“Joel, I—” you began, struggling to find the right words. “You told me a while ago.”

He stayed silent, his gaze still intense, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes now—maybe fear, maybe grief. You couldn’t be sure.

“I just… I want to understand you better,” you continued, your voice softening as you tried to bridge the gap between you.

Joel’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you feared he was going to shut down completely. But then he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

“It’s not something I like to talk about,” he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. “What happened to her—it broke me.” He said, walking forward.

“Did you feel like life stopped for you at that moment?” You asked, making him stop on his tracks.

Joel stopped dead in his tracks, the question hanging in the air between you like a weight that neither of you knew how to bear. His back was to you, his shoulders tense, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he was going to respond or just walk away.

When he finally turned to face you, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes His eyes held a depth of pain that took your breath away.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It did.”

He looked down, as if he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze any longer, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Everything just stopped. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It was like the world just shattered, and I was stuck in the middle of the wreckage, trying to find a way out, but there wasn’t one.”

You stepped closer to him, feeling the urge to close the distance between you to offer some kind of comfort, but you hesitated, unsure if he would welcome it. Instead, you just stood there, letting him speak, letting him finally give voice to the pain that had been locked inside him for so long.

“After that, nothing mattered,” he continued, his voice raw with emotion. “Nothing felt real. I just went through the motions and did what I had to do to survive. But there was this emptiness, this void that nothing could fill. And I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move past it.” He paused for a moment. “But then Ellie appeared, and I felt like a dad again.”

He glanced at you, searching your eyes for understanding. “It wasn’t the same, not by a long shot. But she gave me something to fight for, something to care about. I couldn’t just give up when she needed me. I had to keep going for her.”

The vulnerability in his voice was heartbreaking, and you could see how much Ellie meant to him and how she had somehow managed to pull him back from the edge. The bond they shared was unique, forged in the fires of loss and survival, and it had become a lifeline for him in ways you were only beginning to understand.

“Ellie’s special,” you said softly, not wanting to break the moment but needing to acknowledge the significance of what he was sharing with you. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Joel’s voice trembled as he spoke, the raw emotion seeping through the cracks of the façade he’d been holding onto. “Then you appeared,” he admitted, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I felt like you reminded me of the good times and of how sweet people used to be before all of this. And having to face that, it just reminded me of everything I lost.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your own heartache for him. Joel had been through so much, had lost so much, and now here he was, standing in front of you, his walls slowly crumbling as he let you see the parts of himself he kept hidden from the world.

“I didn’t mean to make things harder for you,” you said quietly, your voice laced with regret. “I never wanted to bring up old wounds.”

Joel shook his head, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh god, no. It’s not your fault. I was an asshole to you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just seeing someone like you, someone who still has that kindness, that light; it’s like looking at a world that doesn’t exist anymore. And it scares me.”

“Then why did you do it?” you asked, hoping that in the middle of this vulnerable side of Joel, he would be able to tell the truth. “You were nice to me at the beginning, then you were you.”

Joel’s expression faltered, and you could see the internal struggle play out across his face. He hesitated, clearly torn between wanting to protect you from the truth and the desire to finally be honest.

“You really want to know?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, a rawness that made your heart tighten in your chest.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. “I need to know why, Joel.”

He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to gather the courage to say what needed to be said. “One night you were tipsy. Just talking. I walked you home, and then you kissed me.”

Your breath hitched; the memory completely lost to you. “I kissed you?” you repeated, the disbelief evident in your tone.

Joel nodded slowly, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you remembered. “You did. And the next day, you acted like nothing happened. Like it was just another day.”

You felt a surge of confusion and frustration. “I don’t remember that, Joel. I was probably too out of it. But why would that make you treat me the way you did?”

His jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek ticking as he tried to find the right words. “Because it scared the hell out of me,” he admitted, his voice strained. “I’d been fighting these feelings for so long, trying to keep them buried, and then you kissed me, and it was like everything I’d been holding back came rushing to the surface.”

You stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “So you pushed me away,” you said, the realization dawning on you.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Joel confessed, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t want to risk losing you. But at the same time, I couldn’t just pretend like nothing had changed. So I built up walls and acted like it didn’t matter, like you didn’t matter. But you do matter, more than I ever let on. And I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

The anger you’d felt simmering beneath the surface began to bubble over, your emotions a tangled mess of hurt and confusion. “So all this time, you were just punishing me for something I didn’t even remember? For something that clearly didn’t mean as much to me as it did to you?”

Joel winced at your words, the guilt evident in his eyes. “I know how it sounds, and I’m sorry. I was just I was scared, alright? Scared of what I was feeling, scared of what it could mean. And I took it out on you. I’m not proud of it, but that’s the truth.”

You took a step back, needing some space to process everything. “You should have just talked to me, Joel. We could have figured this out together instead of… whatever this mess is.”

“I know,” he said, his voice filled with remorse. “I messed up. And I know it’s going to take time to fix things, if I even can. But I’m willing to try if you’ll let me.”

The storm of emotions swirling inside you made it hard to think clearly. You felt hurt, angry, and confused, but also a small part of you understood where Joel was coming from, even if you didn’t like it.

“After your accident, I took care of you, Joel, and Oh my god! You’re such a baby,” you said.

Joel blinked, taken aback by your sudden shift in tone. “What?”

“You heard me,” you replied, crossing your arms. “You’re a baby. You couldn’t handle your feelings, so you pushed me away instead of just talking to me like an adult.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his expression. “It wasn’t that simple.”

“Oh, but it was!” You cut him off, your frustration bubbling over. “I was there for you, Joel. I took care of you when you needed it, and you repay me by treating me like crap because you couldn’t deal with a stupid kiss.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you didn’t give him the chance. “You’re a grown man, Joel. You’ve been through hell and back, and you let something as small as this trip you up? You’re right, you messed up. But you didn’t just mess up; you acted like a damn child.”

Joel’s defensiveness faded, replaced by a look of chagrin. “And you are mad at me still for not remembering things!”

“Oh my god, I’m not mad at you for that reason. I’m mad because of how you treated me.”

Joel looked down, the weight of your words hitting him hard. “I know. And I don’t blame you for being mad. I was wrong, and I should have handled things differently.”

You could see the regret etched into his features, but it didn’t make the sting of his actions hurt any less. “You pushed me away when I was just trying to be there for you,” you said, your voice wavering slightly as the emotions you’d been holding back started to surface. “I trusted you, and you made me feel like I did something wrong when all I wanted was to be close to you.”

You wanted to believe him, but the wall you’d built around yourself was still firmly in place. “You broke something, Joel, and I don’t know if it can be fixed,” you admitted.

Joel’s face fell, but he didn’t back down. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just… don’t give up on me yet.”

There was a long silence as you both stood there, the weight of the conversation hanging heavily between you. Finally, you nodded, though it was more out of exhaustion than anything else. “I’m not giving up,” you said quietly. “But I’m not ready to forgive you either.”

Joel nodded slowly, accepting your words for what they were a small step forward.

The tension between you and Joel was palpable as you turned to continue your walk back to Jackson. The path ahead was familiar, but it felt different now, heavy with the weight of the conversation you’d just had. Joel walked a few steps behind you, giving you the space you needed, though you could feel his presence like a shadow at your back.

The silence between you was filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Each step you took was a reminder of the fractured bond you were both trying to navigate. The trees around you swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling like whispers in the quiet, but the usual comfort of the forest felt distant, overshadowed by the turmoil in your heart.

As the gates of Jackson came into view, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. The town, once a place of refuge, now felt like a minefield of emotions you weren’t ready to face. You knew that when you walked through those gates, you’d have to see the people who had become your family, the ones who had seen you and Joel together, and you weren’t sure how to handle their questions or their concern.

Joel’s voice broke the silence, soft and hesitant. “We’re almost there. Do you want me to walk you the rest of the way?”

You paused, considering his offer. It was a simple question, but it carried so much more weight than either of you wanted to acknowledge. You were exhausted—physically, emotionally—and the idea of facing everyone on your own felt overwhelming. But at the same time, you weren’t sure if you could handle being so close to Joel after everything that had been said.

“I think I can manage,” you replied, your voice tinged with weariness. You turned to look at him, your expression softening just a little. “But… thank you.”

Joel nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I’ll be around if you need anything.”

You gave him a small, tired smile before turning back toward the gates. As you walked through them, you could feel the eyes of the guards and townspeople on you, their concern evident. You kept your head down, trying to avoid their gazes, and made your way to your quarters as quickly as possible.

Unbeknownst to you, Lori stood a short distance away, partially obscured by the shadows of a nearby building. Her eyes followed you and Joel, her expression unreadable. She had seen the two of you walking in together, though not exactly side by side, and the tension between you was obvious even from where she stood.

Lori’s heart clenched with a mixture of emotions she struggled to sort through. Anger, hurt, jealousy. They all swirled inside her, but there was something else too, something she didn’t want to admit. A pang of guilt, perhaps? She watched as Joel lingered near the gates, his gaze following you until you disappeared.

During net day, as you headed to the bar to grab something to eat for lunch, your thoughts were dancing around Joel’s words. And as if you were calling out for him, you saw him and Tommy sprinting towards you, their expressions tense and urgent.

“Hey!” Tommy called out, his voice sharp with worry. He reached you first, slightly out of breath, and placed a hand on your shoulder to steady himself. “We just got word—one of our patrol groups ran into raiders. They’re hurt, bad.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the air suddenly feeling colder around you. “Who? Where are they?” you asked, your voice shaky as fear began to creep in.

Joel was right behind Tommy, his face a mask of concern. “They’re bringing them in now. Maria sent a team to help. We need to get to the gates.”

The reality of the situation hit you like a punch to the gut. Your mind raced as you tried to process the information. “Do you know who’s hurt?” you managed to ask, even though you were dreading the answer.

Tommy shook his head. “We don’t know all the details yet. We just know they ran into trouble, and it wasn’t pretty. You should come with us.”

Without another word, the three of you started running towards the gates, your lunch forgotten. The closer you got, the more your heart pounded, fear clawing at your insides. The people of Jackson had become like family to you, and the thought of any of them being hurt—possibly worse—was unbearable.

As you neared the gates, you could see a small crowd gathering, everyone’s faces etched with worry. The gates creaked open, and you spotted the patrol group returning. The sight that met your eyes made your stomach drop.

Several members of the group were being supported by others, their clothes stained with blood and dirt. One of them was limping heavily, another clutching a makeshift bandage around their arm, and a third was barely conscious, their heads lolling to the side as they were carried in on a stretcher.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, your hand flying to your mouth in shock. You recognized some of the faces—people you’d shared meals with, worked alongside, and laughed with. Seeing them like this was like a nightmare come to life.

Joel was already moving towards the injured, his instincts kicking in. He glanced back at you, his expression a mix of determination and concern. “Come on,” he said, his voice firm. “We need to help.”

You immediately went into action, with the medical staff, two doctors, and you were there to assist and prepare the supplies you needed. The chaos of the scene was familiar, and you worked efficiently, focusing on the task at hand.

As you worked, you heard footsteps behind you and glanced up to see Joel entering the room. His face was pale, his usual confidence replaced with concern. He looked around, trying to make sense of the situation, and his eyes met yours. For a moment, you saw the same depth of emotion you had seen before, a silent understanding passing between you.

Joel approached you, his voice low. “How can I help?”

You were momentarily taken aback by the offer, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. “Just keep out of the way for now. I need to focus on these guys. They’re in bad shape.”

Joel nodded and stepped back, watching with a mix of concern and helplessness as you and the medical staff worked. The minutes ticked by as you tended to the injured, applying bandages, administering pain relief, and stabilizing their conditions. The work was intense, but you were in your element, pushing aside any personal worries for the moment.

You moved swiftly from one patient to the next, checking vitals and administering care. When you reached Ethan, one of the patrol members who had been particularly badly hurt, you could see that he was in a bad state. His face was pale, and his breathing was shallow. His eyes, once sharp and alert, now seemed distant, lost.

"Ethan," you said softly, trying to get his attention. "How are you feeling? Can you tell me what's hurting the most?"

For a moment, Ethan didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on something far away, his mind seemingly adrift. You noticed a dark, spreading stain on his arm, and upon closer inspection, you realized with a jolt that it was a bite mark. The infection was spreading, and it was clear that Ethan was in the early stages of infection.

Panic surged through you as you looked up at Ethan's face, your heart sinking. "Ethan, you’ve been bitten. We need to—"

Before you could finish, Ethan’s eyes snapped back into focus. In a sudden, violent movement, he grabbed you by the neck, his grip strong and desperate. His expression was a mix of fear and anguish, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the sheer intensity of it.

"Get away from him!" Joel’s voice cut through the chaos. He rushed forward, grabbing Ethan’s arm and pulling it away from your neck, managing to pry Ethan’s fingers loose, though Ethan struggled against him.

You could feel your heart beating in your ears and how bad you were bearing for breathing.

The sudden force of Joel’s intervention broke Ethan’s hold, and he fell back, his breath ragged and his eyes wild. The other medical staff quickly moved in to restrain him, and you stumbled back, gasping for air, your hands instinctively rubbing your neck.

Joel’s eyes were wide with a mix of fear and anger. "Are you okay?" he asked urgently, his gaze scanning your face for any signs of injury or distress.

You nodded, though your voice was shaky. "I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken."

Joel’s expression softened with relief, but the concern didn’t leave his eyes. “We need to handle this. If he’s infected.” His voice trailed off, the grim reality settling in.

The gunshot put your attention back on Ethan, who now lay motionless on the ground.

The sharp sound of the gunshot echoed through the infirmary, pulling your attention back to Ethan. His body lay motionless on the ground, a grim testament to the harsh realities of your world. The medical staff had taken the necessary precautions, but the finality of the situation was palpable.

Joel’s face was a mask of conflicted emotions, his eyes shifting from the lifeless form of Ethan to you. The weight of what had just happened hung heavily in the air, and the reality of the infection and its consequences was stark and unforgiving.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. The adrenaline was still coursing through you, making it difficult to think clearly. The reality of Ethan's fate, coupled with the close call you had just experienced, left you feeling shaken and vulnerable.

“Are you sure you’re, okay?” Joel asked again, his voice softer now but still filled with concern.

You managed a nod, though your hands were still trembling slightly. “I’m alright. Just… a little rattled.”

Joel’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his worry evident. He seemed to be grappling with his own emotions as well.

“Are you okay?” You asked, looking up at him.

Joel blinks, caught off guard by your question. He had been so focused on your well-being that it hadn’t occurred to him that you might be concerned about him too. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, though his voice was thick with emotion. But the way his hand lingered on your arm, the way his eyes softened when they met yours, told a different story.

You weren’t sure what made you do it; maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through your veins or the rawness of the moment, but you reached up and gently touched his cheek.

Joel closed his eyes as your fingertips lightly grazed his cheek, the warmth of your touch sending a jolt through him. For a moment, the chaos of the scene around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a fragile bubble of quiet intimacy.

He opened his eyes slowly, meeting your gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude. “You don’t need to worry about me,” he said softly, though his words lacked conviction. “I’ve seen worse.”

You nodded, understanding that while he might brush off concern for himself, the weight of the situation was affecting him deeply. “I know,” you said gently, your voice barely more than a whisper.

As the day wore on and the news of the raiders surrounding Jackson spread, the town sprang into action. The common area transformed into a hub of activity as people gathered to discuss a strategy to defend what everyone called home. The mood was tense but determined; everyone knew how critical it was to stay united and vigilant.

Tommy and Maria were at the forefront, rallying the community and coordinating efforts to ensure everyone's safety. Their voices cut through the cacophony of worried chatter as they outlined the plan.

“We need to have eyes on every approach,” Tommy said firmly. “We can’t afford to miss anything. If anyone sees anything suspicious, report it immediately.”

Maria nodded in agreement, her face a mask of resolve. “We’re going to split into groups. Some will keep watch from the perimeter; others will stay here and fortify the defenses.”

Amidst the crowd, you stepped forward, ready to volunteer for the lookout duty. “I’m in,” you said, raising your hand. “I can help keep watch.”

Joel, who had been helping with preparations, looked up sharply. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You need to stay here. It’s too dangerous out there.”

You were taken aback by his sudden, forceful objection. “Joel, I can handle it. I’ve been out there before, and I know how to stay safe.”

Joel stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of concern and frustration. “This isn’t the same as a routine patrol. The raiders are already here, and things are going to get rough. I don’t want you out there.”

“I’ve been dealing with that before,” you gritted between your teeth.

“She’s strong, but we need at least five more people,” Tommy said.

Joel's expression remained firm as he looked at you, but there was an unmistakable trace of worry in his eyes. “I get that you’ve been through a lot, but this isn’t just about being strong. It’s about the risk. I can’t—”

Tommy interjected, his voice steady but urgent. “She’s strong, Joel, but we need at least five more people out there to cover all the necessary positions. We don’t have enough eyes on the perimeter as it is.”

Maria nodded in agreement, glancing between you and Joel. “We need all the help we can get. I understand Joel’s concern, but the priority is to keep everyone safe. If you’re willing, we can use you out there.”

Joel’s gaze flickered between you and Tommy, the conflict clear on his face. He knew the stakes were high, and while his protective instincts were strong, he also recognized the necessity of having enough people on the ground.

“I don’t like it,” Joel said finally, his voice softer but still laden with concern.

Joel’s concern was palpable, but before he could say more, Lori stepped forward from the group, her expression determined. “If you’re worried about her, then let me go too,” she said firmly, her gaze meeting Joel’s.

Joel looked at Lori, surprise flickering across his face. “Lori, I—”

Lori cut him off, her tone resolute. “Look, I’ve got experience with situations like this. I’m willing to put myself out there. If it helps you feel better about her going, then let me join her.”

Maria glanced between Joel and Lori, clearly weighing the situation. “That could actually work,” she said thoughtfully. “If we have both of you out there, it might alleviate some of the pressure.”

Joel hesitated, still visibly torn. He didn’t trust Lori at all.

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Lori, his concern clearly evident. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of her going out there with you, especially given the tension between the two of you.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Joel said, his voice low but firm. “Lori, you’ve got experience, but this situation is different. It’s more dangerous than anything we’ve faced recently.”

Lori met his gaze with equal determination. “I understand your concern, Joel, but if I can help keep things under control, then I’m willing to take the risk.”

Maria, sensing the mounting tension, stepped in to medierate. “Joel, I understand your hesitation. But we need to make sure we have enough people to cover all positions. If Lori’s offering to help and she’s capable, it might be our best option.”

Joel’s eyes flickered with frustration as he glanced at you, then back at Lori. “Alright,” he said reluctantly. “But both of you need to stay in touch and make sure you’re covering each other’s backs. I don’t want any risks.”

As the group readied themselves to head out, the tension was palpable. The urgency of the situation had everyone moving swiftly, but there was a lingering heaviness in the air, a mix of anxiety and unspoken feelings.

You and Joel exchanged one final, intense glance before you left. His eyes held a storm of emotions—concern, fear, and something deeper that you couldn’t quite place. It was clear he was struggling with the idea of you going out there, but he was also showing the resolve to stay behind and protect Jackson if things went wrong.

“Be careful,” Joel said, his voice soft but stern. There was a vulnerability in his tone that was almost painful to hear.

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat. “I will. You too, Joel.”

With a final look, you turned and joined Tommy, Lori, and the rest of the group. As you walked away, you felt a mixture of resolve and unease. The path ahead was uncertain, and the weight of the responsibilities you carried felt heavier with each step.

The sky was darkening as you and Lori took your positions around Jackson. The sounds of the town preparing for the possible assault filled the air—voices calling out instructions, the clatter of equipment being readied, and the distant murmur of worried conversations.

Lori nodded, her expression softening slightly. “We’ll be careful. You have my word.”

You could see the weight of Joel’s concern in his posture, the way his jaw tightened and his eyes searched yours. It was clear he was still struggling with letting you go out there, but he was also facing the reality of the situation.

“Let’s get ready,” Maria said, stepping in to redirect the focus. “We’ve got to move fast if we’re going to set everything up in time.”

Joel and Tommy exchange a look from the distance. One look that said

Please protect her from all.

The group moved through the woods with tense precision. The night was dark, and the forest seemed to close in around them, the trees casting long, eerie shadows in the dim light. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig sent a jolt of anxiety through the group as they moved carefully toward their designated positions.

You were positioned with Lori and a few other members; your nerves heightened as you scanned the surrounding area. The anticipation of an attack weighed heavily on you, each sound in the forest amplified by the tension of the situation. Lori was focused, her experience evident in her movements as she checked and rechecked her gear.

Tommy, who had stayed behind for a while, was now close enough to provide support if needed but kept their distance to avoid drawing attention. His gaze was constantly shifting, his eyes searching the darkness for any signs of movement. The worry etched into his face was evident even from a distance.

As the minutes ticked by, the silence grew more oppressive, each member of the group lost in their own thoughts and preparations. The night felt endless, the anticipation building as everyone awaited the inevitable clash.

Suddenly, the stillness was shattered by the sound of distant shouts and the unmistakable noise of raiders closing in. The group’s alertness surged into action as everyone took their positions, readying themselves for the confrontation.

“Here they come!” Lori’s voice cut through the tension, her tone commanding. “Stay sharp and keep an eye on each other!”

The raiders emerged from the darkness, their figures outlined against the low light of the moon. The confrontation was chaotic and intense, the night erupting into a flurry of movement and noise. You fought with determination; every instinct heightened as you defended your position.

Despite the chaos, you could feel the presence of your allies around you; their movements synchronized as they worked together to repel the raiders. The noise of gunfire and shouts filled the air, and you found a grim sense of focus as you engaged with the attackers.

In the midst of the chaos, Lori’s actions took a dangerous turn. Amid the melee, she made a sudden, unexpected move that shifted the dynamics of the confrontation. As you and Tommy were engaged with the raiders, Lori took it upon herself to maneuver through the fray, pushing for a more aggressive stance.

“Cover me!” Lori shouted, her voice rising above the din. “I’m going to create a diversion!”

Before anyone could fully grasp her intention, Lori threw a series of flashbangs and smoke grenades into the thick of the raiders. The sudden blinding light and thick smoke created confusion among the attackers but also disrupted your group’s coordination.

The diversion had the unintended effect of drawing the raiders' focus toward the source of the commotion. The chaos escalated quickly, with the raiders now focused on the new threat and your group struggling to maintain control.

In the disarray, Lori’s actions created an opening for a smaller group of raiders to break through the defenses. The confusion spread, and it became increasingly difficult for everyone to stay organized. As the situation grew more chaotic, some members of the group started to retreat, trying to regroup and escape from the overwhelming numbers of raiders.

Tommy, realizing the deteriorating situation, shouted, “We need to fall back! Get to the rendezvous point!”

Amid the confusion, Lori’s initial strategy had backfired. She and the others began to withdraw, but in the scramble to escape, it became evident that you were separated from the rest of the group. You fought to hold your ground, but the chaos and disorganization made it nearly impossible to regroup.

In the thick of the battle, you tried to push your way toward the retreating group, but the raiders were relentless. Despite your efforts, you found yourself isolated, with the sounds of the retreating group fading into the distance. The enemy's numbers were overwhelming, and you had to take cover behind a nearby structure, your heart racing as you tried to catch your breath.

The night seemed to stretch endlessly as you waited, your thoughts racing with worry about whether you’d be able to rejoin your group. The noise of the battle grew distant, replaced by the eerie silence of the aftermath.

When the group finally made it back to Jackson, the atmosphere was tense and somber. Tommy and Lori arrived, looking battered and exhausted. The sight of the raiders repelled, and the group’s narrow escape was overshadowed by the stark absence of you.

The patrol group trudged back into Jackson, their faces weary and their clothes stained with dirt and blood. They moved slowly, burdened by the weight of the day's events. As they passed through the gates, people began to gather, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.

Joel was waiting anxiously at the gate, his face etched with concern. As soon as he saw Tommy and Lori, his eyes darted around, searching for you. When he saw that you were missing, his face went pale, and a deep anger began to simmer beneath the surface.

“Where is she?” Joel demanded; his voice barely controlled. His eyes locked onto Tommy with a fierce intensity. “Where the hell is she?”

Tommy's face was grim as he approached Joel. “We lost her in the chaos. Lori tried to make a diversion, and things got out of hand. We couldn’t get back to her.”

Joel’s eyes shot to Lori; his anger palpable. “A diversion? You’re telling me you put her in danger and didn’t make sure she was safe?”

Lori’s face was flushed with exhaustion and guilt. “It was a mistake, Joel. I didn’t mean for it to get out of control. We were trying to get the raiders to focus elsewhere so we could regroup.”

Joel's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration boiling over. “A mistake? She’s out there alone because of you. How could you let this happen?”

Maria stepped in, trying to diffuse the escalating situation. “Joel, yelling at Lori isn’t going to help. We need to focus on finding her. We have to get a search party together and head back out.”

Joel took a step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “You don’t get to make that call,” he hissed, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “If anything happens to her,”

“She’ll be fine,” Lori cut him off, rolling her eyes. “You’re overreacting.”

Joel’s eyes were wild with panic and anger. “No, you don’t understand. She could be hurt, or worse. We need to get out there now!”

Tommy put a hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. “We will. But we need to be smart about it. We can’t rush in without a plan. We’ll organize a search party and go as soon as we can.”

Joel shook his head, his breathing heavy and uneven. “I don’t care about plans. I’m not waiting around while she’s out there.”

But Joel wasn’t listening. He was already turning away, his mind racing with a hundred different scenarios, each worse than the last. He needed to find you to make sure you were safe. The thought of you out there, alone and vulnerable, sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Without another word, Joel stormed off towards the gates, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn’t going to wait around for someone else to bring you back. He would find you himself, no matter what it took.

Joel raced through the woods, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he searched for any sign of you. The setting sun cast long shadows over the path, and the dense trees around him made it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. But he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t. The thought of you out here alone, in danger, was enough to keep him moving, fear and adrenaline pushing him forward.

Joel refused to let himself think about the worst possibilities; he just needed to find you.

Tommy was right behind him, struggling to keep up with Joel's relentless pace. “Joel, slow down!” Tommy called out, his voice strained. “We need to do this smart. If you get hurt, we’re no good to anyone.”

Joel didn’t respond, his focus solely on finding you. He knew Tommy was right, but the fear gnawing at him made it impossible to slow down. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, and every shadow that moved in the corner of his eye made his heart skip a beat.

After what it felt like hours of searching, Joel and Tommy came upon a clearing. The scene before them was chaotic—bodies of raiders lay scattered across the ground, the aftermath of a brutal fight. Blood stained the dirt, and the silence was eerie, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

When Joel reached the house, the door was ajar, creaking on its hinges as the wind pushed it back and forth. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fear and urgency propelling him forward. He approached cautiously, his hand gripping his revolver tightly, every nerve on edge. Behind him, Tommy moved in tandem, his rifle at the ready, the two brothers moving as one unit.

Joel nudged the door open with his foot, and it swung inward with a loud creak, revealing the scene inside. The room was a disaster—furniture overturned, broken glass scattered across the floor, and the bodies of several men lying lifeless on the ground. Bloodstains marred the walls and floor, the remnants of a violent struggle.

Tommy entered behind him, his eyes sweeping the room with a practiced intensity. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, the carnage in front of them telling a grim story.

Joel’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes searched the room, desperately looking for you among the chaos. The fear of what he might find gnawed at him, each second feeling like an eternity.

And then he saw you.

You were slumped against the far wall, your body still and pale, but you were alive. Relief surged through him, though it was tempered by the sight of your injuries. Joel rushed to your side, his revolver slipping from his grip as he knelt down next to you, his hands shaking as he reached out to touch your face.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve got you. I’m here.” He gently touched your face, his fingers brushing against your cold skin as he checked for any serious injuries.

You blinked, your eyes struggling to focus on him. “Joel?” you murmured weakly, the sound of his name on your lips a small comfort to him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “You’re gonna be okay, alright? Just stay with me.”

You nodded faintly, your body leaning into his touch as if you couldn’t bear to hold yourself up any longer. “They… they ambushed us,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I tried… but there were too many.”

"Did you kill them all by yourself?" Tommy asked, his voice tinged with both awe and concern as he glanced around the room, taking in the lifeless bodies scattered across the floor.

You nodded weakly, the effort it took to do so evident in the way your body sagged against Joel’s. “I didn’t have a choice,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “They were going to… I couldn’t let them…”

Joel’s heart ached as he listened to you, the weight of what you’d been through settling heavily on his shoulders. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, the toll that the fight had taken on you, both physically and emotionally.

“You did what you had to,” Joel said, his voice steady but filled with a fierce protectiveness. “You survived, and that’s all that matters.”

“I’m sleepy, Joel,” you said, trying to close your eyes, and that’s when Joel’s breath caught in his throat. As he felt the warm, sticky blood on his hand. The sight of it. You had blood dripping from your shirt.

He pressed his hand more firmly against your wound, trying to stem the bleeding, but it was clear that you were slipping away.

Joel’s heart skipped a beat as he saw your eyelids droop, your voice growing weaker with every word. “No, no, no,” he muttered, his voice thick with panic as he gently shook you. “You have to stay awake, alright? Just keep your eyes on me.”

He quickly adjusted his grip on you, his hand moving to press against your abdomen where the blood was seeping through your clothes. The wound was worse than he had initially realized, and the sight of it made his stomach twist with fear.

“Stay with me,” he urged, his voice trembling. “I’m not losing you; you hear me?”

You tried to nod, but the pain and exhaustion were overwhelming, pulling you toward unconsciousness. “Joel… it hurts,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I know, sunshine, I know,” he said, his heart breaking at the sight of you in so much pain.

sunshine

It took him almost to lose you to remember your words.

It took him almost to lose you to remember yours I love you.

It took him almost to lose you to realize how important you were to him.

"I'm sleepy" you whispered, almost inaudible to hear.

"No, you're not," Joel said.

"Shhh.Let me sleep, Joel. Can you carry me to bed?"

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he struggled to keep his composure. “I’m carrying you, okay. Every single day for the rest of my life, I’ll carry you,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “Baby, baby, baby,” he whispered into your hair, his tears mixing with the dirt and blood on your skin. He was terrified of how still you were in his arms, caught between life and death.

“I’ll save you like you saved me,” he vowed, his voice a desperate prayer as he held you close, willing you to stay with him, to fight, to live.

+++++++++++

I tagged everyone interested in more parts or or the ones who commented, but I couldn't tag everyone because all got mixed (again) if you don't want to be tagged you can tell me, if you want to be tagged, you can also tell me. I tried to add everyone but I don't know If I did.

💌 tags: @dreamtofus @paperstarzzz @chewie-bars @hotleaf-juice

@riedswifts @dizzyforyou @prideandaesthetic @chateaujoon

@18dmlk @orcasoul @whirlwindrider29 @frogjumps-world @camy-nyancat @sarahhxx03 @jasminedragoon @cuteanimalmama @eleganthottubfun @skysmiller @nana90azevedo @astralqueenoc

@missladym1981 @persephone-girl @darka-moon @beltzboys2015-blog @sptbear @joelsteinfeld @astralqueenoc @bishtrouille

@locaparapedrito @wolfbook87 @picketniffler @axelspin @pedrotease @riedswifts @mclibs23 @feliciab1990 @swornkisses @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kirsteng42 @lostfleurs

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coryndoll · 2 months ago

Text

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: girl bye this whole part is just screaming n crying omg be prepared

prev next

authors note: wanted to make a little unexpected visit at the end given his character but yk 😋 let me know if u arent on the tag list yet !! interact w me thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

long story short, the group collectively agree to postpone this dinner night because of what happened. just as you left the restroom, drew was gone and were instead met by leila who told you they were leaving to eat at the pearl some other time.

you feel terrible that they had to witness what they did, and you assume they must’ve seen you and drew talking in the hallway for them to make this decision. they know something’s wrong between you two, and you almost break on the spot. it’s like the whole plan is crashing down and you don’t know what to do, how to move forward.

you and drew travel in different cars on the way home but to end off the night, the group splits up. some dress down and head back to explore the town at night or there are others who choose to stay home, just keep a respectful distance.

you rid of your clothes and step into the shower to collect your thoughts, and it takes everything in you not to cry from frustration. the steam curls around you, the hot water beating down your back like it’s trying to wash the weight of everything away—but it doesn’t.

no amount of heat or scrubbing can erase the guilt, regret, and shame that engulf you.

when you finally step out, your skin is red from the heat, and you wipe a hand over the fogged mirror, catching a glimpse of your own tired reflection. your new clothes cling to your still-damp skin, and your hair hangs heavy and wet down your back.

when you step out of the bathroom, the cool air bites at your skin, but that’s not what makes you freeze. you see him—drew—walking toward your shared room. he’s freshly showered, his hair slightly wet, and you realize he must’ve used the bathroom across the hall that gia and roman share.

for a split second, your eyes meet, and you have to bite down on your emotions, hard, before you can speak. before you can let it all flood out.

you get to the door first, quietly letting yourself in, then leaving it open so he comes in too. the air between you feels heavy—like there are words unsaid. you can hear the faint sound of music downstairs, theo’s voice talking low, maybe to leila, but it’s distant. they must be trying to let you talk without feeling like you need to worry.

you step into the room, moving toward the dresser on your side of the room. your hand rests on top of it, gripping the edge for balance, as if the solid wood can keep you grounded. your back is to him, but you can hear him enter. he stands there for a moment, probably watching you, probably waiting for you to say something.

the silence is unbearable.

“why didn’t you just tell me?”

your voice comes out quietly, almost too low for him to hear. you don’t turn around, your eyes focused on the lamp in the corner of the room, as if looking anywhere but at him will keep you from falling apart. your hand tightens on the dresser as you wait for him to answer.

you hear him shuffle behind you, his breath catching like he didn’t expect you to speak first. “i . . . i don’t know,” he says, his voice just as quiet as yours. “i didn’t want to hurt you.”

you swallow hard, blinking rapidly as the familiar burn of tears threatens again. you know he’s trying to be honest, but that answer—it’s not enough. it doesn’t fix anything.

“you didn’t want to hurt me?” your voice wavers, and you finally turn, facing him. he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you like he doesn’t know how to fix the mess he’s made. “this wasn’t even just a few days either. this has been weeks—weeks of us talking, planning, pretending . . . and the whole time, you were lying.”

as you walk over to him, he opens his mouth to respond, but you can see the guilt weighing him down, making it impossible for him to speak right away.

“not only were you lying to them,” you gesture loosely, meaning the others, everyone, “but you were lying to me.” you point to your chest as your voice cracks, weak and filled with betrayal.

his face tilts slightly to the side, and though he’s staring at you, his eyes are glossing over. you can see the weight of what he’s done finally sinking in, and it’s tearing him apart. he swallows hard, his throat tight.

“i didn’t mean to,” he whispers, his voice trembling now. “i never wanted—”

but he stops, his words catching in his throat, and you can see the tears threatening to spill. his jaw tightens as he forces himself to keep looking at you, even though it’s breaking him inside.

“no, but you did,” you tell him. “you made this decision. you created this plan when you had mila back home, drew.”

he winces at her name. you can see it. but you don’t stop.

every day, every conversation, every moment you’ve spent together, he knew. and he said nothing.

your words slow down though, and the weight of them sinks in deeper. “i had finally gotten to a point after we broke up where i felt like i was free of us,” you say, voice quieter now, but raw. “i didn’t have to worry about things like this anymore. i was finally done with us.”

drew��s lips part like he’s about to say something, but he can’t, and you don’t give him the chance. “but here i am.” you let out a short, breathless laugh, as though even you can’t believe the mess you're in. “i mean, i didn’t think agreeing to this plan was going to work out perfectly, but—”

you stop, searching for the words, your throat tight with emotion. it takes everything in you to keep from crying. you look away from him, your voice going numb, the exhaustion seeping through. “but i didn’t think i’d end up feeling like this. like none of it ever really ended.”

you stand there for a moment, letting the weight of everything hang between you two. you wipe at the corner of your eye, then shake your head slightly, more in disbelief than anything else.

“so why?” you ask, “why didn’t you just tell me? why didn’t you say something from the beginning, when we started this whole thing?"

he looks at you, his jaw clenching, but his eyes are filled with guilt. he takes a deep breath, his face turned slightly to the side like he's trying to hold himself together.

“i fell in love with you,” he says, and you scoff. oh, he’s just now fallen in love? he realizes his mistake and gets up when you start to walk away, but he grabs you by the arms, “no, no, no, y/n please, i fell in love with this life—being with you again. i didn’t want to lose that. i’m still in love with you. i always have been. i just realized it too late.”

you can’t believe him. “but you did lose it, drew.” your voice is quieter now, but no less intense. “you lost it the moment you decided to lie. you didn’t just ruin this plan, this stupid fake relationship.”

you shrug him off of you.

“i thought,” your voice cracks, “i thought telling our friends the truth would make everything worse. i was so scared they’d feel like they had to walk on eggshells around us, like it’d be awkward if they knew what happened. but you know what? i wish i’d just told them. instead of this. instead of . . . all of this.”

“and it’s not just about mila,” you say, “even when you’re supposed to be my fake boyfriend, you’re still making decisions for me. you speak for me, like you always know better, like i can’t speak for myself.” you can feel your frustration bubbling to the surface, the heat rising in your chest as you push forward. “it’s like . . . no matter what happens, you still feel like you need to control everything.”

drew’s mouth opens slightly, like he’s about to respond, but you can’t stop now. the words tumble out, each one hitting you harder than the last.

“i mean, do you know how exhausting that is?” your voice rises, and you can feel your emotions slipping, coming out faster than you can stop them. “you made up the plan, you pulled back the moment i was getting comfortable again, even our breakup was your decision.”

his expression hardens, and you can see the conflict raging behind his eyes. “i thought we agreed there wasn’t any point in keeping up something that was barely there,” he says. “we were hardly talking or communicating, y/n. i mean, trying to keep up a relationship for us that wasn’t even really there? was it . . . do you think it would’ve been better if we didn’t break up? i mean—”

“yes! yes, it was worth it! i didn’t care if we weren’t always together!” you blink, caught off guard for just a second, but the fire inside you flares back to life. “and you said there wasn’t any point; not me. we’re busy people, drew, lives like ours don’t get spent every day how these two weeks are supposed to be. you have to know that. so i’m sorry that you felt enough was enough for us but you shouldn’t have had to decide what you thought was best for both of us and make that decision on your own without telling me!”

as you speak, you notice the way his face shifts, confusion and regret flickering in his eyes.

you exhale, shutting your eyes. “trust me, i spent nights worrying about us when we were together, replaying every moment, every doubt.” your voice lowers, becoming more vulnerable, almost a whisper. “and i told myself, ‘okay, that’s normal. that’s normal maybe. so you didn’t get a fairytale relationship; grow up.’”

“but i understood that . . . no matter what, i wouldn’t have left you because i loved you,” you cry, “i stayed because that’s what you do when you love someone.”

drew’s face crumbles at your words, and his gaze drops to the floor. you take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you meet his gaze again. “look, i’m not going to say anything to anyone about mila,” you say. “but you need to figure this out, how we move on from here, and whether you’re going to tell her about this plan because i’m not gonna keep doing it if she’s not comfortable with it.”

drew nods slowly. he’s quiet, visibly processing everything. “i’ll do it,” he says, almost to himself, but you nod anyway. he takes a shuddering breath, his voice barely above a whisper as he finally speaks. “i didn’t mean to lose you,” he says, staring at the ground. “but i did. i know that now.”

you watch him for a moment, the weight of his confession hanging between you, before you turn away. your hand reaches for the door, and this time, you don’t hesitate.

“yeah, you did,” you whisper, voice broken as you open the door and hurry through, leave him standing there alone. “you did.”

drew stands there, frozen in place as the silence settles around him. he watches when you walk away until the laughter from outside fades into a distant echo, and he sinks down onto the edge of the bed, his body heavy with regret.

“—fucking—” he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible. he leans forward, elbows digging into his thighs, and cradles his head in his hands while tears spill from his eyes. in that moment, he’s completely alone, engulfed by the realization that he pushed away the one person who mattered most.

“i’m gonna be back, okay?” libby tells you. you’re sitting in her bed, her and leila feeling like it’s only reasonable for her to step up, and she would’ve no matter what.

“hey,” you say before she goes, your fingers reaching her arm. she halts, looking at you again as she settles back down on the edge of the bed. “thank you for letting me sleep here tonight.”

she gives you a knowing look. “there’s no need y/n. my job is to make sure you’re comfortable and okay. your job is to get under my covers and drool on my pillows ‘til morning.”

“shut up,” you murmur and consider whacking her in the face with one of said pillows, but she leans forward to give you a hug. it’s gentle at first, and you’re relieved to feel a warmth from someone at a time like this. you feel like you can stay there forever, but she pulls away to leave the room.

there’s a knock at the door that startles you a bit, and you wait anxiously for who’s behind it. they open it quietly and peek their head in—roman?

he lets himself inside with cautious steps, and before you can speak he shushes you.

“keep it down, stupid,” he says, and you furrow your eyebrows at him. he takes maybe two steps forward and then stops there. “i just wanted to say sorry for not saying anything before at the peel.”

“the pearl.” you nod, your lips pursed. “thanks.”

he deadpans at you. “i don’t do this very often so i’d appreciate more than just a thanks, you kn—” he pauses to rephrase his words, and you can see the gears shift in his head. he sighs. “i fully saw that you were upset and i didn’t do anything. part of it was because i didn’t know if i should’ve but the other was that the food was just really good—”

“roman,” you try to tell him to get out, but he persists.

“no,” he tells you. he tries to search for the right words before continuing, “i’m just sorry. i don’t want to make it seem like i don’t care or that you don’t have anybody to talk to. and i’m not gonna jump the gun or be all enthusiastic the next time this happens but . . . i just won’t be quiet anymore.”

you’re taken aback by roman’s unexpected display of concern. you can’t tell if you’re imagining this. this has to be the first time you’ve probably ever known him that he’s being like this. but you nod slowly, absorbing his words. “thank you, roman,” you say softly, appreciating the effort he’s making. “it means a lot that you care.”

he shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional territory but pressing on anyway. “good,” he replies, his voice a little firmer. “because i might not always show it, but i do care. just . . . don’t think you have to go through stuff alone, alright? we’re friends, i guess, even if i don’t always act like it.”

you smile faintly, still surprised that he’s even still standing there. “i get it. i appreciate you saying something.”

“goodnight, y/n,” he says. just as he’s about to leave, he glances back, a knowing look in his eyes. “and just so you know, i get that things are complicated with starkey, but it’s pretty obvious you two aren’t really together. you don’t have to pretend around me.”

your heart skips a beat, and you feel a rush of vulnerability. how much does he really know? but before you can question him further, he’s already slipping out the door.

at the same time, libby slides past him with mugs of hot cocoa, “ew, what are you doing here?” she says to roman, avoiding him like he’s her brother. “get out of here.”

she kicks the door closed behind her, and her mood switches to a smile. “what was all that about? oh my god— did he hurt you? did he infect you?” she asks, feigning concern as she plops down next to you and handing you a mug. you take the mug and just shake your head with a grin.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull

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pastryfication · 5 months ago

Note

hello! i was wondering if you could write a little blurb for oscar where the reader was having a rough day (people picking on her in the paddock, getting knocked over..) and when she comes home, oscar instantly senses something is wrong and that’s when she finally breaks. maybe ends in some comfort with him being gentle to her and trying to soothe her?

hi thank u so much for this request 🫶🫶 i haven’t proofread this so ignore the mistakes pls!! hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

tough day | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of stress? idk

your day had been terrible from the moment you had woken up. the traffic was unbearable, everything had gone wrong at your job, and you could feel the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders even more with each second passing. and as if that wasn’t enough, someone accidentally knocked you over in the bustling crowd on the way home, and instead of offering help, they barely acknowledged your presence. the physical pain was minor, but the emotional toll was crushing. by the time you reached home, you felt like a shadow of yourself.

as you walked up the stairs to your apartment, you wanted nothing more than to curl up under a blanket on the couch and let the day melt away, but even that was too much to ask for apparently. because with sinking heart, you realised you had forgotten your keys.

tears of frustration begins to prick at your eyes as you stare at the closed door. of course this happens to you. as if your day hadn’t been bad enough already.

just when you’re about to turn around and call your mom to get her spare key, the door swings open, and there, in all his glory, stands your boyfriend. your formula 1 driver boyfriend who wasn’t supposed to be home before tomorrow.

“oscar,” you whisper his name to test of he’s really there. maybe this was just some fever dream your brain was making up after such a catastrophic day.

“hi, love.” he smiles and you can’t hold yourself back as you step forward, burrowing yourself in his arms. holding back a sniffle, you press your face into his chest, enjoying the smell of him as it envelopes you.

immediately sensing your shaky breathing, oscar pulls back slightly. “hey, what’s wrong?” he asks gently. “i thought you’d be happy to see me?”

“i am!” you immediately assure him. “i’m so happy to see you, oscar. i just-“ you hesitate for a moment and he looks down at you with a frown. “i just had a terrible day.” you sigh.

“why? what happened?” his voice is filled with so much concern and seeing his face looking down at you with so much love and care is exactly what it takes for you to finally break.

“everything just went wrong.” tears spill over as you collapse in his arms, the stress of the day pouring out as you sob into his chest, clutching his shirt.

oscar just holds you close, his hand softly stroking your hair in an attempt to soothe you.

“shh, it’s okay. i’m here,” he whispers, his voice a calming balm to your frayed nerves. keeping you wrapped firmly in his embrace, he guides you inside, shutting the door behind you and leading you to the couch.

he sits himself beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and letting you lean into him.

“tell me what happened,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back.

you take a shaky breath as you snuggle even closer to him, sitting practically on his lap as you quietly begin to recount your day. the frustration and disappointment spills out while oscar just listens patiently, his presence working to ground you.

when you finally finish your story, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. “i’m so sorry you had such a rough day,” he says softly. “i wish i could have done something to stop it.”

“it’s not your fault,” you murmur in reply, voice muffled by the way you’ve pressed your face into his chest again. you just want oscar’s warmth and understanding to envelop you, a safe haven after the storm.

he senses that you just need him to hold you, and he’s more than happy to comply. as you sit there in his comforting embrace, you feel the weight of the day lifting, replaced by the soothing reassurance of his love and care.

and you realise something: as long as you have oscar to come home to, no day can be a total disaster.

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xhoess · 3 months ago

Text

Crossing Lines

Hugh jackman x fem bod reader

Masterlist wc: 7,3k

Summary , a 25-year-old journalist, develops an romantic connection with Hugh Jackman, a charismatic actor in his mid-50s, while writing his biography. Despite the age gap and professional boundaries, the attraction between you deepens, leading to a passionate affair.

Warnings: top!reader, bottom!Hugh, age gap (legal)

As you stride through the bustling city streets, your heart thrums with excitement, each step echoing the monumental opportunity ahead. Today is the day your editor finally gives you the assignment you’ve been dreaming of since you first sat down in a journalism class — writing the biography of Hugh Jackman. For a 25-year-old up-and-coming journalist, it feels surreal to have the chance to capture the essence of a man whose career you’ve followed closely, whose roles have shaped your understanding of storytelling and performance.

After weeks of anticipation, your meeting with Hugh is set for a cozy café nestled within the city's artsy district. You arrive early, your stomach fluttering with nerves as you order a coffee, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. What could possibly attract such a famous star to a fresh-faced journalist like you? Yet, as you scan the café, contemplating that question, you spot him through the glass windows.

Hugh enters, casual yet charismatic in a fitted navy sweater and jeans. The minute he steps inside, the atmosphere seems to shift; even among the clusters of people, he somehow stands out. His smile, infectious and warm, instantly illuminates the room. As he walks toward you, your nerves evaporate under the heat of his genuine enthusiasm.

“Hey there! You must be the journalist I've been hearing about,” Hugh says, extending his hand with a friendly grin that showcases the dimples you’ve seen a thousand times on-screen.

Your handshake is firm but nervous, and you can’t help but chuckle at how at ease he makes you feel. “Yes, that’s me! I’m so thrilled to meet you. Thank you for taking the time.”

“Trust me, the pleasure’s all mine,” he replies, gesturing for you to take a seat at a small, sun-drenched table. You can’t help but notice how his charisma seems to put everyone around him at ease.

As you settle into conversation, the initial questions and answers tumble out easily. You revel in his anecdotes about the early days of his career, stories that whisk you away to a different time. He speaks candidly about his passion for acting, the challenges he faced during auditions when he was just starting out, and the fiercely competitive environment of the industry.

“What was your biggest failure?” you ask, genuinely curious, hoping to seek the deeper truths behind the Hollywood glimmer.

Hugh’s expression momentarily changes; he leans back slightly, his gaze shifting as if contemplating the weight of your question. “You know, the pressure to succeed can sometimes make you forget why you fell in love with the craft in the first place,” he admits, his tone turning reflective. “I remember losing a significant role to someone else, and it stung. But that's part of the journey, isn’t it? You grow from those moments. You realize that failure isn’t the opposite of success; it’s part of it.”

You nod, fascinated. The more he opens up, the more the boundaries of interviewer and celebrity blur, replaced by a genuine connection.

As the conversation flows, the age difference feels like a minor detail; your minds and interests align in ways that make the moment feel timeless. An hour passes, but it hardly feels like a standard interview. Instead, it feels as if you’ve stumbled into a rich tapestry of shared experiences and emotions.

“Tell me about yourself,” Hugh prompts, the genuine curiosity in his voice encouraging you to peel back layers of your own story. You share anecdotes—tracing your journey through journalism, your dreams and fears, and your admiration for genuine connection.

To your surprise, you find yourself sharing more than you had anticipated. Buoyed by his kindness, you talk about your childhood dreams, your competitive spirit, and the moments of doubt you’ve faced in your career.

“I found you incredibly brave,” Hugh says, leaning in slightly, a sincere warmth radiating from him. “Pursuing what you love despite the risks—that’s true courage.”

His gaze holds yours, and for a moment, the busy café fades away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in the shared energy. The atmosphere is charged. Maybe you’re projecting, but there’s something electric in the way his eyes linger on you, stirring a deep curiosity within.

Thus begins a journey that neither of you can predict. The casual café, once a mere backdrop, transforms into the starting point of something that ignites possibilities neither of you dared to fathom.

When the time comes to leave, Hugh stands and stretches, a motion that draws your attention to his commanding presence. “I look forward to our next meeting,” he says, a hint of promise laced in his tone. “I have so many stories left to share.”

As you walk out together, the lightness of the moment is heavy with implication. The sun casts a golden glow over the city, mirroring the warmth in your chest as the door closes behind you, sealing away the outside world. You both step into something new—an unspoken agreement lingers in the air, hinting at the shared curiosity that hangs between the two of you and the many stories yet to come.

You leave the café buzzing, awash in the thrill of possibility and the raw honesty of your conversation. The future feels bright, tinged with excitement and a flicker of something else—a connection, undeniable and fierce, that you can no longer ignore.

The weeks rolled by quickly and the rhythm of your days began to mold around your time with Hugh. Each interview revealed layers of the man you admired, peeling back the façade of the celebrated actor to uncover a genuine warmth that pulsed beneath. Those first moments of nervousness had faded, replaced by a sense of familiarity that felt both exhilarating and daunting.

You found yourself in a vibrant world—one that sparkled with excitement and challenges. Your first informal outing with Hugh was a trip to the set of his upcoming film. As you stood a safe distance from the lively chaos of crew members and actors, you watched Hugh shift effortlessly into his character. He embodied the role with such authenticity that it left you breathless. The way he interacted with the cast had an ease to it, commanding yet approachable. You couldn’t help but admire his professionalism, noting how he balanced being a star with being humble.

“Do you see what I mean?” Hugh called out, breaking character long enough to glance your way. He was engaging with the crew, tossing jokes back and forth—a lightness that was infectious. “There’s something amazing about creating something with other people.”

You nodded, but inside, your thoughts drifted to how effortlessly he made connections. Each word felt like a secret just between the two of you, drawing you in further.

As the days slipped into weeks, your coffee breaks became a treasured ritual. Sitting across from him, you found yourself laughing at tales from his childhood in Australia, almost forgetting the weight of his fame. He spoke earnestly about film roles that changed him, how the weight of expectation sometimes felt unbearable. On alternate days, you’d share your own small victories—a published article, a radio mention—gladly listened to by someone who understood the thrill of breaking news. The rapport deepened with every exchange, and by the time the afternoon sun filtered through the café windows, you found yourselves sharing thoughts on love, loss, and the uncharted territory of adulthood.

You could feel the attraction shimmering beneath your conversations—a vast ocean of proximity that threatened to pull you both in deeper. Each brush of your knees beneath the table, every lingering gaze, was a silent acknowledgment of the connection that stood between you. While you’d both made tacit agreements to keep things professional, the chemistry was undeniable. You saw it in the way his eyes sparked when yours met, how the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly when he noticed you studying him, lost in thought.

One rainy afternoon, after a particularly insightful interview, he invited you to see him rehearse for an upcoming theater production. Standing in the dim light of the rehearsal room, you felt the electricity in the air—the tension that came from passion thriving in a close space. Hugh’s presence was magnetic, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away as he breathed life into each line. The commitment he displayed, the raw emotion that embedded in his performance, left you in awe.

At the end of the rehearsal, he found you in the back, watching with rapt attention. “What did you think?” he asked, wiping the sweat from his brow, his voice low and intimate.

“It was incredible,” you replied honestly, caught in his gaze. “You made it real.”

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you,” he replied, shrugging off the compliment. As he smiled, it was as if the whole world faded away, and the burgeoning feelings expanded into the space between you.

Afterward, you strolled through the bustling streets, the sky a bruised purple, filled with the anticipation of a coming storm. You shared thoughts about theater, passion, and life, and each word flowed easier than the last. Yet with each moment, the attraction loomed larger, an unspoken current that wrapped around you both, pulling you towards a precipice.

Hugh, sensing the shift in the air, brought the conversation to a softer, more personal tone. “I sometimes worry about being forgotten, about fading into the background,” he confessed, his voice almost a whisper. It startled you, this glimpse into his vulnerability.

You wanted to reach out, place a reassuring hand on his arm, share the burden of his fears, but something held you back. Instead, you shared your own doubts about your career, the uncertainty that often nipped at your heels. He listened intently, nodding and tilting his head, making you feel seen in a way you had never experienced before.

The boundaries you had both set began to blur, each emotional revelation feeling as intimate as a secret whispered in the dead of night. When your hands brushed against each other, igniting that familiar spark, you flinched slightly, heart racing.

As daylight faded and the streets glowed with the warmth of streetlights, you found yourselves standing outside a cozy little café you’d both passed.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?” Hugh asked, his voice light, but the tension still electric.

“Sure,” you replied, laughter spilling from your lips as you stepped inside, perhaps too easily forgetting all the boundaries you had meant to maintain.

The air between you felt charged. You settled into a corner booth, but the conversation had taken on a life of its own—lightly teasing yet profound. With each laugh, every shared glimmer of understanding, the invisible strings binding you pulled taut, almost fraying at the edges under the weight of unspoken desire.

But as the evening wore on and the laughter faded, an unnameable tension settled between you. Perhaps it was the age difference, perhaps a fear of complicating your career. But deep down, you both knew: something was brewing beneath the surface, begging to be acknowledged even as you danced around it.

As you left the café, the lingering touches and gazes could no longer be ignored. It felt daunting, the knowledge that you both could either step into uncharted territory or retreat to what had been your safe haven: a friendship grounded in admiration and professional respect. But one question loomed larger than the rest: were you willing to risk it all for a chance at something deliciously uncertain?

With each passing day, it became harder to imagine life without him, as unspoken words hung in the air like stars waiting to break through the dawn. Would you allow yourselves to feel it, to embrace the pull? That was the question that sparked a myriad of possibilities, eager to unravel at the slightest touch.

The day that Hugh invited you to dinner felt almost surreal. You had shared countless hours together, laughing and discussing his life, and now he was asking you to step outside the parameters of your professional relationship. The combination of excitement and apprehension danced in your stomach like butterflies eager to break free.

The restaurant was tucked away from the bustling streets, an upscale venue where elegance and intimacy intertwined flawlessly. Candles flickered on the tables, casting soft shadows that mingled with the warm glow of the overhead lights. As you walked in together, Hugh’s hand found the small of your back, an innocent gesture that sent shivers down your spine. The ambiance hinted at romance, and you could feel the anticipation in the air.

Over the course of the evening, you talked about everything from films to dreams. Hugh’s laughter was comforting, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. He spoke with such passion about his current project, the excitement in his eyes igniting something deep within you. The wine flowed, the atmosphere was electric, and with every shared anecdote, the line between professional and personal faded further away.

At times, his gaze lingered a little longer on you than necessary, and you reveled in the warmth of his attention. It felt thrilling, almost forbidden, but the connection was undeniable. As the courses came and went, the flirtation between you grew more pronounced, transforming the conversation from simple pleasantries into something that sent your heart racing.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to step away from everything?” Hugh asked, swirling his wine glass, his thoughtful expression betraying the weight of his words. “To just escape, be someone else for a while?”

You leaned forward, captivated, sensing the vulnerability beneath his confident demeanor. “I think we all crave authenticity,” you replied. “Sometimes the roles we play in life feel like they overshadow who we really are.”

Hugh nodded, his eyes piercing through you as if he were reading the lines of a story yet to be written. “Authenticity can be hard to find when you’re in the public eye. It’s a strange feeling, needing to connect but knowing there are walls built around you.”

“It must be lonely,” you said softly, the truth of his words resonating with your own experiences throughout your career.

He smiled, yet his expression weighed heavy with sincerity. “That’s why genuine connections are so important. They remind us that we’re not alone, that there’s still someone who sees us for who we are beneath all the layers.”

The evening wore on, and as Hugh filled your glass again, he leaned in closer. “You’re different,” he said, his voice low and measured. “I can talk to you in a way I haven’t felt in a long, long time.”

Your heart raced at his admission. You weren't just a journalist; you were the one person who understood the actor behind the fame, the man behind the roles. The air thickened with tension, and the magnetism pulling you both closer was impossible to resist.

After dinner, he suggested taking a walk along the nearby beach. The idea sent a rush of thrill through you, and you couldn’t say no. As you strolled beside each other, moonlight glistened off the waves, reflecting the quiet intensity of the moment. The rhythmic sound of the surf served as a perfect backdrop, calming yet charged with unspoken desire.

You found yourself brushing against him more often, your fingers grazing against each other almost purposefully. The spark each touch ignited was undeniable, and when you finally stopped to take in the view—the moon reflecting off the water—you turned to face him, your heartbeat quickening.

He looked at you, his brown eyes dark with emotion, and everything seemed to still. There was no going back. The tension hung thick between you, and without thinking, you closed the distance and leaned in. He met you halfway, and his lips captured yours in a kiss that started softly as a whisper. You melted into him, and the moment deepened, transforming into an awakening that sent shockwaves through your entire being.

Before you knew you were entering his apartment.

Hugh’s hands slipped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you surrendered to the passion that had been building since the first interview. He looked at you, his brown eyes dark with emotion, and everything seemed to still. There was no going back. The tension hung thick between you, and without thinking, you closed the distance and leaned in. He met you halfway, and his lips captured yours in a kiss that started softly as a whisper. You melted into him, and the moment deepened, transforming into an awakening that sent shockwaves through your entire being.

You pulled away, breathless, and looked into his eyes. "I want you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, his eyes gleaming with desire. "I want you too," he replied, and he leaned in to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he couldn't get enough of you

Your hands roamed over his body, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingertips. You reached down and grabbed his ass, pulling him closer to you. He groaned and pressed himself against you, his hard cock rubbing against your thigh.

"Let's take this to the bedroom," you said, your voice husky with desire.

He nodded, and you led him to your bedroom. You pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. You ground your pussy against his cock, feeling the heat building between you.

"Fuck, you feel good," he said, his hands grasping your hips.

"I haven't even started yet," you replied, and you leaned down to kiss him again. Your tongues danced together as your hands explored each other's bodies.

You broke the kiss and sat up, pulling your shirt over your head. He watched you, his eyes dark with desire. You unclasped your bra and let it fall away, revealing your breasts. He reached up and cupped them in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.

"You're so beautiful," he said, and he leaned up to take one of your nipples in his mouth. He sucked and bit gently, and you moaned with pleasure.

You reached down and undid his pants, freeing his cock. It was hard and thick, and you wrapped your hand around it, stroking it gently.

"I want to taste you," you said, and you leaned down to take him in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, savoring the salty taste of him. He groaned and threaded his fingers through your hair, guiding you as you sucked him deeper into your mouth.

After a few minutes, you pulled away and climbed back on top of him. You positioned yourself over his cock and slowly lowered yourself down onto it. You moaned as he filled you up, stretching you in the most delicious way.

You started to ride him, your hips grinding against his. He reached up and cupped your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he said, his voice strained.

"You too," you replied, and you leaned down to kiss him again.

You broke the kiss and sat up, your hips still moving in a steady rhythm. You reached down and started to play with your clit, rubbing small circles over it.

"Oh god, I'm close," you said, your voice breathless.

"Me too," he replied, and he grabbed your hips, thrusting up into you harder.

You both came at the same time, your orgasms washing over you like waves. You collapsed onto him, your bodies slick with sweat.

"That was amazing," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, it was," he replied, and he kissed you softly.

You lay there for a few minutes, your bodies entwined, before finally getting up and getting dressed. You walked back to the living room, hand in hand, feeling closer than you ever had before.

Time lost all meaning as you surrendered to the connection that had grown over weeks spent in Hugh’s presence. You discovered not just the contours of each other’s bodies, but the depths of emotions that had long been buried beneath layers of ambition and expectation. You shared moments that transcended mere physical intimacy—it was raw, it was genuine, and it was deeply, achingly beautiful.

You wake up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, the remnants of last night’s passion still shimmering at the edges of your memory. As you stir, the warmth of Hugh’s body beside you is both comforting and anxiety-inducing. You slowly prop yourself up on one elbow, trying to take in the serene expression on his face. His hair, tousled and messy, makes him look utterly disarming. The memory of his lips on yours, the way his hands explored every inch of your skin, sends a jolt of warmth through you. But as the thrill of the night starts to fade, reality crashes over you like a tidal wave.

What have you done?

It’s a question you’ve been silently wrestling with since you slipped into his life. The weight of the previous night hangs heavily in the air, and as you glance over at Hugh, you find yourself questioning everything. The thrill of your connection now contrasts sharply with the doubts swirling around in your mind. You’re not just a young reporter; you’re a 25-year-old woman who just crossed a monumental line with a man who’s not only twice your age but also a global superstar. What would your colleagues think? How would it affect your career?

Hugh stirs and opens his eyes, the momentary bliss of sleep fading as he meets your gaze. For a moment, there’s a flicker of that undeniable connection—the warmth of intimacy still lingering between you. But just as quickly, you see a shift in his expression, mirroring your own internal conflict.

“Morning,” he says, his voice a gravelly whisper, as if he is still finding his way back from one world to another.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. You sit up, tugging the sheets around you, as if shielding your emotions. The room feels smaller, like the walls are closing in, and all of a sudden, it’s hard to breathe.

Hugh runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you recognize from the many times you’ve seen him in public. It’s a familiar but intimate act, one that draws you in all over again. “Last night was… unexpected,” he admits, his words heavy with unspoken questions.

“Yeah,” you manage, unable to mask the tremor in your voice. “I didn’t think… well, I didn’t plan for it to happen.”

He nods, his expression serious as he shifts to sit up next to you. “Neither did I. But it did. And now we need to talk about it.”

“Do we?” You bite your lip, avoiding his gaze as a whirlwind of emotions crashes over you—fear, regret, thrill, and an undeniable desire that you can’t seem to escape. “What do we say? We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“No, we can’t.” He breathes out slowly, as if trying to steady himself. “But we also can��t ignore the implications. This isn’t just fun and games. You know that, right?”

Your heart sinks. You know he’s right; he’s always been right. “Yeah,” you whisper, a lump forming in your throat. “But… what if it wasn’t just a mistake? What if we… tried to make sense of this?”

Hugh looks at you, those warm brown eyes piercing through your doubts, challenging your fears. “What do you want?” he asks, his tone softening. “Do you want to walk away?”

The question hangs between you like a fragile thread, spinning out into the vast uncertainty of your feelings. You take a deep breath, heart pounding in your chest. The thought of leaving him sends a wave of pain coursing through you, yet the reality of your professional life looms larger than ever.

“I don’t know,” you admit finally, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. “It’s just… complicated. You’re Hugh Jackman. You’re a legend. And I’m just me. What happens when it all goes wrong?”

His expression softens, and he reaches for your hand, his touch grounding in the turmoil. “Every relationship has its risks. But isn’t that what makes it worth it? The chance to be with someone who makes you feel alive?”

You meet his gaze, only to find the depth of understanding wrapped in warmth and honesty. It’s a lifeline, and despite the fear flooding through you, something flickers within—an ember of hope that maybe this moment can turn into something lasting.

“Do you really think it’s worth it?” you push, still uncertain. “We’d be in the public eye. People will talk...”

“Let them talk,” he counters, the fierceness in his voice igniting something inside you. “I’ve spent my life worrying about what others think. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that living for the public can lead to a hollow existence. I don’t want to hide from what feels real.”

His words resonate within you, striking a chord you didn’t even know existed. The fear doesn’t disappear, but the possibility—the allure of a genuine connection—sets your heart racing. Once again, you are reminded of how he sees you not just as a journalist but as a woman, a person worthy of love and connection.

“I don’t want to walk away,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “I just don’t want to hurt you or jeopardize our lives.”

Hugh smiles softly, and for a moment, the tension lifts. “I won’t let you hurt me. But we have to be honest with ourselves. If we continue down this path, we have to be ready for the world to witness it.”

You swallow hard, the gravity of the situation settling over you like a heavy fog. “What if we take it slowly? Keep it under wraps until we figure things out?”

He considers your suggestion, the smile retreating slightly as he weighs the possibilities. “It might be the best approach. We can still pursue this connection, just… with some discretion.”

With a shared understanding, the path before you seems clearer, the feelings that have grown too immense to ignore now taking a tangible shape. As you lean into him, emotions swirling like a tempest within, you realize that you’re ready to risk it all for the chance to create a beautiful story with him. One that bends the rules but ultimately feels right.

The sun slowly dipped on the horizon, casting a warm golden hue through the large window of the café where you and Hugh had agreed to meet. This was meant to be just another interview session, yet you both knew the underlying current of tension had transformed each subsequent meeting into something decidedly more intimate—something that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

As you nestled into the cozy chair across from him, you couldn’t ignore the quiet thump of your heart echoing in your chest. The faint sounds of clinking cutlery and chatter melted into the background as you locked eyes with him; those deep, soulful orbs seemed to recognize the tumult of emotions swirling within you. Today was different.

Hugh’s casual approach veiled a seriousness beneath the surface. He was dressed simply in a navy shirt and jeans, his trademark charm effortlessly on display, but there was something in the set of his jaw that told you he was preparing to confront what had been left unaddressed since that fateful night.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” he began, his voice low and steady. “About us. About that night.”

You felt a shiver run through you, a jolt of recollection. The memory of his lips on yours, the way everything around you faded away as you became encapsulated in the moment, sent adrenaline coursing through your veins. But with that thrill came a nagging sense of dread, the reality of what it meant for both of you hanging heavily over your heads.

“I don’t want to pretend like that didn’t happen,” he continued, his expression earnest. “And despite the complications, I don’t want to walk away from… whatever this is.”

“What if it complicates everything?” you countered, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. “You’re Hugh Jackman, and I’m just—”

“—just a brilliant journalist who’s been shining a light on the world for years,” he interjected, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re someone who sees me for who I am, not just who I portray on-screen. You’ve become so much more than just a subject of my biography.”

His words wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, yet the underlying reality was indisputable. The age difference? The spotlight? The inevitability of hurt if things went sideways? Each point weighed heavily on your mind.

But there was a magnetic pull, a connection that felt undeniably unique. What the two of you had blossomed from shared experiences, laughter, and moments both profound and mundane was a rarity, one that would be foolish to dismiss without a fight.

“What are you saying?” you asked, your voice softer now, tinged with hope and uncertainty.

“I’m saying I don’t think I can walk away, and I’d rather risk the fallout than miss out on something real,” he confessed, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart flutter. “I want to see where this goes, if you do.”

Taking a deep breath, you weighed the implications: professional fallout, judgment from the public eye, the complexities of an age difference that loomed large in circumstances such as these. The questions danced on the tip of your tongue, begging to be vocalized. What would your editor say? What would your friends think? Would it jeopardize your burgeoning career? And then, lingering silently in the back of your mind—was it worth it?

But how could you ignore the way his laughter made your voice lift? The way your shoulders relaxed in his presence? Your gaze strayed down to his fingertips, grasped around the wine glass, elegant and assured, mirroring the strength you found within him.

“I don’t want to get hurt,” you said after a long silence, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m scared—what if we crash and burn?”

Hugh leaned back, his expression contemplative yet patient. “I get it; I've been through enough ups and downs in my life to understand the fear. But what if we soar? What if it’s exhilarating and meaningful?” His eyes sparkled with a glint of mischief. “They said I’d never be able to dance like I did in Moulin Rouge, and now look at me!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension breaking for a moment with his endearing humor. “You made it work, though. Would we even stand a chance?”

“I believe we would,” he said firmly, leaning closer once again. “But it takes that leap of faith. Look, let’s take it slow. Let’s keep growing our connection, exploring this—whatever it means—together. You don't have to give up your career or dreams for this, but I want you to know I’m here, and I’m willing to fight for you.”

As hope ignited in your chest, you felt a warmth radiate through you—a desire to plunge into the unknown with someone you had come to admire so deeply. You could feel the unyielding strength in his words; if he was willing to navigate the storm, perhaps you could, too.

And so, with a tremorous breath, the fear began to melt away, revealing a burgeoning excitement for what lay ahead. “Okay,” you finally said, your heart racing. “Let’s figure this out—together. But I want to take baby steps.”

Hugh’s smile could have illuminated the entire café as he nodded, visibly relieved. “That’s all I ask. And who knows? Maybe we’ll find something beautiful in the chaos.”

In that moment, surrounded by the soft hum of the café, you felt a sense of release—a weight lifted. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you had made a choice: to embrace the emotions that blossomed between you and Hugh Jackman, and to allow the journey to unfold in its own time.

As you both toasted to your new beginning, a delicious thrill coursed through you, igniting a spark of hope for what might blossom in the days to come.

OKAY THIS MAY BE MY FAV FIC I WRITE EVER OMG... part two maybe?? If yall think yes I want a part to COMMENT THAT OK???

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the-bar-sinister · 1 year ago

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Ask for OTPs and Self Ships

copied from a now gone post and blog: original url https://glitter-and-gasoline-deactivate.tumblr.com/post/687208822931095552

TW: angst, suggestive content, etc.

Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’?

Describe their cozy night in.

Who would beg the other not to leave? Who has to leave to protect the other?

Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

What happens if one of them gets sick?

What are their thoughts on having children?

Describe their first date.

Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?

Who’s the bigger tease?

How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

Do they always say ‘i love you’ before leaving?

Can they stay up all night just talking?

Who’s more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?

How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind?

How do they feel about PDA?

Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

Who would get into a fight to defend the other’s honor? Who tends to the other’s wounds?

What reminds each of their partner?

Who’s more likely to convince the other to stay in bed come morning?

Who’s more likely to give the other a massage?

Do they have any hobbies they share?

What are their vices?

Who is the light weight that needs to be taken care of after a party?

What are there thoughts on pet names? Do they have any?

Who is more likely to jump in an elevator? Who freaks out?

Your OTP gets to pick out each other’s outfits; what is each wearing?

Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.)

Who’s the better story teller?

Who’s the better cook?

Who’s more likely to tell a dirty joke or story to make the other blush?

Who’s more artistic?

Who’s more likely to fire up the stove at 2am because the other woke up in the middle of the night hungry?

Which is more likely to swear?

Who is more sexually experimental? Who’s more vanilla?

Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think?

Who has an insatiable appetite? And what does the other do to help?

Which one would take their jacket it off and drape over the other one because they were visibly shivering?

What’s their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

Who would give their life for the other without a second thought?

Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway?

Can they fall asleep without the other?

Would they get frisky at the movies by themselves?

Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship?

Who’s the better driver?

Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other?

who’s more likely to do something out of spite?

What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

Describe their weekend getaway?

Would they ever go skinny dipping?

Who’s more likely to carry the other to bed?

Do they like watching clouds or star gazing?

What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood?

Whose the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart?

Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

Who tops? Who bottoms?

Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?

#otp #otp dynamics #otp ask game #otp asks #otp prompts #shipping dynamics #shipping prompt #self ship #shipping #shipping tropes #selfship #self ship community #self ship ask game #fictional other #f/o ask game #f/o prompts #prompt list #cw suggestive

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bless-my-demons · 7 months ago

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Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Nine

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: does a handsy Jasper need a warning?

Notes: oh my god it’s been so long, I’ve been eating myself up over not posting. I’ve been working myself to death, but I’ve finally got a long weekend off and so I used it to get back to what makes me happy - this story! Omg I hope you guys love it🥹 I also have to go through and update my taglist later tonight, so bear with me on that until I add it!

Word Count: 1500

Series Masterlist

• April 3rd, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

Tingly.

That’s the state of my body this morning, the state of my mind.

Not only am I riding an emotional high from our conversation this weekend, but my dream last night… Good lord, that dream.

I can feel the echoes of his fingers on my skin, the coolness of his lips, the wet trail they would’ve left behind… the solid weight of what surely his body would feel like, pressed against mine. I can imagine all of what it would be like vividly, to be under him, to get carried away, to just explore-

“You alright, darlin’?”

His voice jolts me from the day dreaming stare I had on the locker before me, caught red handed. To make matters worse, that deep southern tenor questioned me inches from my ear, causing a blush to heat my cheeks to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“Perfectly fine, why?” I immediately busy myself within my locker so that I don’t have to face him right away.

“You do remember that I can feel you, right?” His voice is low and his hands find my hips tenderly, but the air changes around us.

My heart rate skyrockets, this is dangerous. His fingers flex against me and the death grip I have on this book in my hands turns my knuckles white.

“Jasper-” his name is a whispered warning, but also a plea.

“I know.” Instantly a cooling, soothing balm blankets our tension and I release the tightness in my chest. Leaning backwards into him I just feel tired all of a sudden, like I had run a marathon. “Let’s get out of here.”

His request sounds more like a demand and I twist in his arms, “Is that a good idea?”

“Darlin’, I don’t have many of those these days.” His mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin as he shoves all of my school supplies back in my locker, shutting it and tugging me along behind him towards the student parking lot.

Jasper

Something is on her mind, something dangerous. Something I absolutely want to know, something I’m not sure I have the strength for, but I can’t help it - it’s her.

I’ve never been more thankful for an overcast day with no rain: perfect motorcycle weather. Come to think of it, my sister had a knowing look in her eyes as my siblings all piled into their respective vehicles as I straddled my bike this morning. A decision that currently led me to now: Y/n and I leaving school before midday.

Those thoughts I interrupted earlier have her quiet, but her emotions are raging and it is driving me insane. Curiosity, need, nervousness - a dangerous concoction begging to overtake my rational mind. Separating myself from her feelings is almost impossible at this point, she is so well ingrained in me.

Finally arriving at my thankfully empty home, I shut my motorcycle off and offer a steady hand to help her dismount. Swinging my own leg over, I turn towards her and lean against it, observing her for a moment with crossed arms.

“What?” She makes eye contact as she struggles with the chin strap of my helmet.

Grabbing the helmet by the chin piece, I gently tug her forward between my legs, “Tell me.” I lace the command with neediness to encourage her to be pliant.

And judging by the way her lips part behind the dark visor, the immediate dilation of her eyes, and the weight of her hands settling on my thighs gently, I might’ve laid it on a little too thick.

Chuckling, I free her from my helmet and riding jacket. By the time I finish, she seems to snap from the daze and her hands clench on top of my legs.

“Not fair, Hale.” Feisty this morning.

I lean forward towards her ear with a grin as I stand from my bike to put away the gear, “All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.”

Reaching to swat my chest, I grab her hand gently before she could injure herself.

Pausing as I hang my jacket up, her teasing response sends excitement through me, “Two can play at that game, baby.”

Stepping into my room, I realize too late what has her curiosity: my desk. Well, the art that occupies every inch, my art.

“What is all this?” Leafing through pencil sketches of my favorite hunting spots and pen etchings of my family at random moments, she gets to the important ones hidden below. Her breathing hitches and I know she’s found them, the ones of her.

Some are in pencil, some are in random felt-tip pens, but my favorites? Those are charcoal. A decently basic medium, but I feel like it captures so much more than anything else ever could. Maybe it’s because I use my fingers to smudge and shape her perfect curves and lines, but it radiates emotion in sweeping gestures and subtle shading - something that’s hard to capture with anything else.

“There’s-” awe, shock, surprise, they all shuffle through her and I’m on edge, waiting to hear her thoughts. “There’s so many…”

I watch her carefully examine each one and I smile when she chuckles at a few - some of her at school, some of her here in my home, moments I not only committed to memory, but to paper.

“Now you know what I do with my free time.” I smile through the minuscule anxiety that bubbles up at her seeing my secret hobby. Everyone in my family knows I draw, but they haven’t seen my drawings.

“Jasper…” I can tell she’s getting emotional, but a part of me is excited for her to see my innermost thoughts on paper, to see herself through my eyes - the unaltered beauty she contains.

“You haven’t even seen the ones I cherish the most.” Opening a familiar sketchbook buried under many other drawings, I reveal my favorites. “The very first ones.”

Her breath hitches, running a reverent finger down the first page. It’s the very first moment I saw her, crouched, scooping up papers on her first day of high school in Forks - absolutely radiant.

“You were a vision that day. A beautiful tornado that wrecked my world, I tried to capture every detail from memory because I never want to forget-”

Her hand finding my cheek breaks me from my explanation and my eyes find her watery ones, mouth open, searching for words clearly hard to get out, “Jasper…”

“I love you.” My confession steals her breath completely this time, the first time I’ve uttered these words aloud and it feels absolutely right. “I’ve loved you since the moment you hit me with that door. I knew I was absolutely ruined for anyone else and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tilting her chin up with the tip of my finger as it wobbles at my confession, I smile, “Say something, darlin’.”

“I love you, too.” Now it’s my turn to go wholly still. “I knew from the moment I saw you I’d never be the same, I was yours-”

I couldn’t wait another second, I closed the minuscule gap between our mouths to seal these confessions. I love her and she loves me. Me.

Tilting her head back slightly as I cradle her, I take my cue to deepen the kiss, to pull her closer carefully. Groaning into her mouth, fuck I can’t get enough of her. Trailing kisses down her jawline as she tips her head to the side for much needed air, her gasps drive me to lift her onto my desk.

“Jaz…” her breathy plea of my nickname freezes me, panic seizing my actions.

“I am a gentleman, but only just barely.” My voice is gravel in my own ears, breathed down the slender column of her throat.

A shiver from her causes me to clench my jaw and attempt to gather myself.

“Maybe I don’t want a gentleman right now.” Her whisper damns me, it fucking sets me on fire.

A slamming door downstairs straightens my spine and my hands abandon the exploration of her. Fuck, my family’s timing couldn’t be better, but also worse.

“Honey, we’re home!” Emmett’s booming voice echoes up the stairs and immediately I know he knows, he can probably smell it.

Huffing, I help her regain her footing and straighten her clothes from the rumpled mess my hands made of it. I also take half a thought to smooth her arousal, a damn shame-but a necessity if we’re to face my siblings for the rest of the evening.

“Fucking Emmett.” Her frustration draws a chuckle from me as we make our way downstairs.

“I heard that!” My brother’s response causes her to roll her eyes at me playfully and I shake my head, my heart weighing much fuller in my chest as she plucks its invisible strings with her shit-eating grin.

Taglist part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @Cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

#jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #redamancy series #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #twilight #bless-my-demons #jasper hale #female reader insert

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kayewrite · 2 months ago

Text

the blue sticky note

(final chapter)

straykids x reader!! OT8 x reader!! skz x reader!! word count: 6.1K

bsn ending wherein; because of that blue sticky note you eventually found the answer of what you really want. keeping them all.

warning: lots of kissing!!

(an; this was finally finished and i promised i loved anything about this story. please read it!!!) an2: sorry for slow updates if i literally can kick my profs for sending piles of 'to do's ill do it TT

part 1 and part 2

you already knew who you wanted to choose. But the thought of hurting the others, of breaking the delicate balance between you all, was too much to bear.

Or maybe… you don’t have to choose at all?

Could you love them all? Is that even possible?

You wanted to be selfish—keep everyone for yourself. But was that really an option?

You mulled over the thought, the weight of it sinking in. No matter how much you cared for them, you couldn't afford to lose these friendships. You loved them all too much. But how could you tell them that?

After that night, you stayed up thinking—thinking until you found an answer.

You wouldn’t risk this bond. You’d keep the friendship intact.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your university uniform. Your reflection felt unfamiliar, as if the confident facade you were building couldn’t quite cover the turmoil inside. Grabbing a scrunchie, you held it between your lips while bundling your hair into a neat ponytail. The makeup you applied was more like armor—a thin mask meant to conceal the emotional mess swirling beneath the surface.

Everything had to seem normal.

With a steadying breath, you left your apartment and pressed the elevator button. Moments later, the doors slid open, revealing Felix standing there with a soft, familiar smile that never failed to send a flutter through your chest.

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice carrying that warm tone that always seemed to break through your defenses. His gaze swept over you, a teasing sparkle dancing in his eyes.

Heat rose to your cheeks, your heart skipping at the way he looked at you. You stepped into the elevator, already feeling the pressure of his presence beside you.

“You look beautiful,” Felix murmured, his voice lower now, as his eyes lingered on your face for a beat too long.

Your breath caught in your throat. You turned your head quickly, trying to hide the color spreading across your cheeks. His words, though simple, held more weight than usual, and your pulse raced as you tried to maintain composure.

“Thanks,” you whispered, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips.

Felix chuckled softly, the sound causing a shiver to run down your spine. Leaning casually against the wall, his eyes never left you. The space between you felt smaller than it was, the air thick with an unspoken energy. Before you could process it, you found yourself backed into the corner, Felix close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. But you didn’t push him away. You couldn’t.

His gaze locked with yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. His eyes flickered down to your lips, and instinctively, you bit your lower lip, a nervous habit you couldn’t quite suppress. The tension was palpable, a current running between the two of you, pulling you closer without either of you making a move.

Just as he leaned in, the elevator dinged softly, the doors sliding open to reveal a mother and her child. You jumped back, lightly pushing Felix aside as your heart raced. The interruption was abrupt, jolting you out of the moment.

Felix let out a quiet laugh, clearly amused by how flustered you were, while you pretended nothing had happened, your eyes glued to the elevator floor.

Once you reached the lobby, you walked side by side, though the awkwardness was all yours. Felix seemed entirely unfazed, his lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

“I should get to class now,” you said, breaking the silence, though your feet felt rooted in place.

“If my car wasn’t still in the shop, I’d drive you,” Felix replied with a casual shrug, though the faint hint of disappointment in his voice didn’t escape you.

“It’s fine,” you responded, waving it off as if it didn’t matter. But neither of you moved.

For a moment, Felix’s eyes softened, searching yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip. He leaned in, his face so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin. Without thinking, you rose onto your tiptoes, as if your bodies were drawn together by some invisible force.

And then, with no hesitation, Felix kissed you.

It was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if testing the waters. You froze for a second, surprised by how sudden it all was. But as his lips moved against yours, warm and gentle, you found yourself melting into him. Your arms wrapped around his neck instinctively, deepening the kiss. Time seemed to slow, everything else fading into the background.

In that moment, nothing else mattered but the feeling of Felix’s lips on yours.

You were still a little breathless as you waited at the bus stop. You replayed the kiss in your mind, feeling a warm flutter in your chest. But before you could dwell on it too long, a car pulled up in front of you.

At first, you didn’t pay it any attention, thinking it was just another passerby. But then the window rolled down, revealing Changbin behind the wheel.

“Need a ride to school?” he asked with a grin.

You blinked, surprised but pleased. “Changbin! Is this a new car?” you asked, rushing over.

He nodded shyly. “Yeah, birthday gift.”

You opened the passenger door, sliding in. “Wow, I’m the first one to ride in it?”

Changbin chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yep. You’re the lucky one.”

The seat still had the plastic covers on, making you laugh. “Damn, Changbin, you’re living the life!”

He just shook his head, smiling as he pulled the car out of the stop and onto the road.

Throughout the ride, you chatted about light things, avoiding any mention of the party or anything that might feel too personal. Changbin seemed just as relieved to keep the conversation easygoing.

“I was thinking,” you said, your eyes on the road ahead, “we should have our monthly friendship night at Jeongin’s place again.”

Changbin glanced at you, clearly surprised. After everything that had happened, he thought you might want to pull away from the group. But here you were, suggesting you all hang out like old times.

“Really?” he asked, his voice careful.

“Yeah, why not? We can watch a horror movie, order some food, and crash there like always,” you said with a lightness in your tone.

Changbin smiled, a wave of relief washing over him. He had been worried that things would never be the same after the confessions, but maybe… maybe things could go back to normal after all.

“We could do it at my place too,” Changbin offered casually.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you have a place?”

“Birthday gift,” he said, shrugging again.

You stared at him wide-eyed. “Changbin, how does it feel to be rich?”

He burst out laughing. “Trust me, it’s not that glamorous. But you should come by and check it out sometime.”

“Absolutely,” you grinned, feeling lighter.

When you arrived at the university, you hopped out of the car before Changbin could even offer to open the door for you. He sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. He wanted to treat you like a princess—he wanted to spoil you, take care of you. But you always beat him to it, never letting him pamper you the way he wanted.

He caught up to you, taking your handbag without a word. You didn’t protest, just smiled softly, falling in step beside him as you both walked toward the building.

Hyunjin was expecting to see you hiding out again from your PE class when he spotted you lying on the clinic bed. The sight of you made him smile, a smile you quickly returned. He thought that after not replying to any of his messages, you needed some space. But seeing you now, it was a relief. He was happy to see you.

“Hi,” you greeted with a small wave.

“Hello,” Hyunjin replied, still smiling, his hands finding their way into the pockets of his white coat.

“I need medicine,” you said dramatically, flopping back onto the bed with exaggerated exhaustion.

Hyunjin almost stopped breathing at the sight of you. He didn’t know why, but after everything that had happened recently, you looked extra attractive to him right now, even while lying there dramatically.

“What kind of medicine?” he asked, raising a curious brow.

“Is there a cure for my cuteness?” you teased, striking a cute pose before bursting into laughter.

Hyunjin chuckled, shaking his head at your antics. “After finding out everyone likes you, you're really leaning into it, huh?” he teased back, crossing his arms.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I don’t even know what you guys see in me. Did I flirt with you all or something?”

Hyunjin sat on the stool beside the bed, his expression softening. “No, you were just being yourself. That’s probably the reason why.”

You pointed at yourself in disbelief. “So, I’m a flirt now?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re not. You're just... you. And maybe that’s why people find you attractive, even if you don’t realize it.”

You smirked, snapping your fingers. “So, you fell in love with me because of my blood, huh? I knew it. My bodily fluids are magical,” you joked with a playful glint in your eyes.

Hyunjin laughed loudly, the sound filling the clinic. You never failed to make him laugh.

“Well, since you’re asking...” he leaned back, crossing his legs, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “I think it’s definitely because of your blood.” He burst into laughter again.

It felt good, having a conversation like this. It was easy, light, like nothing had changed between the two of you, despite everything.

“You’re a vampire,” you rolled your eyes dramatically.

“Just kidding,” he grinned. “But honestly, have you seen yourself? You should never be my type, but for some reason, here we are.”

“Did my love potion finally work?” you wondered aloud, pretending to be deep in thought.

“I knew it! You must’ve slipped something into my coffee when you made it for me that one time,” Hyunjin teased, laughing.

“Oh no, I’ve been exposed,” you giggled, sharing a playful look with him.

The laughter continued, eventually fading into a comfortable silenece. Hyunjin looked at you with genuine admiration, his eyes softening. “Really. You don’t know how precious you are to me,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

His words caught you off guard, and you felt your cheeks flush under his sincere gaze. It wasn’t like Hyunjin to get this serious, but the way he said it, you knew he meant every word.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, trying to hide the blush spreading across your face. You weren’t used to him being so direct about his feelings.

“I don’t know, but I feel like I should take better care of myself because of you guys,” you said with a light laugh.

“We will take care of you then,” Hyunjin said with a warm smile.

You both smiled at each other, the connection between you palpable.

“If you become a doctor in the future, you better give me lifetime free hospital fees,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again.

Hyunjin let out a hearty laugh, the sound filling the room once more. “Of course! How could I charge my favorite patient? I’ll make sure you never pay a single cent,” he grinned, his hand reaching out to ruffle your hair affectionately.

“You know,” Hyunjin said, breaking the silence again, “if I ever do become a doctor, I’d be happy to take care of you. But not because I want to treat you.” His voice dropped slightly, more serious now. “It’s because… you make everything better … “

You blinked at him, caught off guard again by his sudden sincerity.

“Well, I hope you never have to treat me, because that would mean I’m in the hospital,” you joked, trying to hide how his words affected you.

“I missed you, my daughter!” you exclaimed the moment you saw the familiar white fur of Minho’s cat approaching. Without a second thought, you rushed to scoop her up in your arms. As expected, the cat was unimpressed, immediately swatting at you, but it didn’t stop you from showering her with affection.

“And I missed you, too, Mommy,” Minho suddenly appeared in front of you, mimicking a high-pitched voice like he was a cat.

You put the cat down, who quickly escaped your grasp, and turned to Minho. He was looking at you with a soft, almost relieved smile.

Minho had thought you’d be upset with him after the way he acted at the party. But seeing you act like everything was okay—it made him breathe easier. But... was this just you pretending again? He couldn’t tell.

Then, you walked up to him and greeted him with a quick peck on the lips.

A peck?

On his lips?

Minho froze.

You acted like it was nothing, like you didn’t just leave him stunned in place. “Where are your other cats?” you asked casually, looking around his apartment.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch his lips. “Uh, they’re at my mother’s place,” he stammered.

You laughed lightly, brushing past him as you continued into his apartment, leaving Minho standing there, completely dumbfounded.

What just happened?

He turned and watched you head into the kitchen, still trying to wrap his head around the kiss.

“Uh, do you want something to eat? Drink?” he asked, following you in, his voice a bit shaky.

"I came for your cooking, Minho. That's why I'm here," you said with a laugh.

Minho blinked, his brain finally catching up. Right, you had messaged him earlier, saying you wanted noodles and that you were thinking about him. That important detail had completely slipped his mind after the unexpected kiss.

“Yes, of course. For you, I’ll make it,” he said, still feeling a bit off balance.

“Thank you, Minho. I love you,” you smirked at him and then left the kitchen, calling for your 'daughter' again.

Minho froze once more.

What just happened?

Minho was usually the one to fluster you, the one to make you speechless. But now...

He shook his head, smiling to himself. Did you finally acknowledge his feelings for you?

With that thought lingering in his mind, he began preparing the most delicious noodles for you.

“I love it so much!” you exclaimed as you finished your bowl of noodles, setting it down with a satisfied sigh. Minho sat across from you, resting his head in his palm, watching you intently with a soft smile. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time.

You tried to ignore the warmth in your chest. “Now,” he started, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, “can you explain to me why you kissed me earlier?”

You expected to blush and look away in embarrassment, but instead, you met his gaze and smiled knowingly. “I think friends kiss.”

“Do they now?” Minho chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup,” you said confidently, crossing your arms.

“Well, if that’s the case, then I have to say, your kiss wasn’t nearly enough,” Minho laughed, leaning forward as he pulled you into another kiss.

This time, you smiled against his lips, not pulling away.

Han wasn’t in the library today, which was a rare occurrence. Instead, you found him sitting under the narra tree in the field, the afternoon sun casting a soft glow around him. He spotted you before you even had the chance to call out, waving excitedly.

"Hey! Over here!" Jisung called, his smile so wide that his cheeks puffed up in that adorable way that made you want to pinch them.

You walked over, and he patted the spot beside him on the grass. As you sat down, he immediately draped his jacket over your lap, ever the gentleman. You smiled at the gesture and the way his grin seemed to make the world a little brighter.

"You’re done with the library already?" you asked, settling next to him.

Jisung let out a small sigh and nodded. "Yep. Done as in done with it for good."

You blinked, processing his words. "Wait, what? You quit?"

He nodded again, his smile soft, almost bittersweet. "Yeah. I realized I was just using the job to keep myself busy."

You placed a comforting hand on his back, stroking it gently before moving to his hair. "You did well, Jisungie," you murmured, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "I’m proud of you for doing your best."

He beamed at your words, a little of that sadness easing away. "Thanks… And, well, I think I’m going to take music as my major too."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really? That’s amazing! I always thought you were destined for something like that."

He chuckled, glancing off into the distance. "Yeah. I guess I finally realized I love producing music, like Chan hyung."

Pride welled up inside you, and you threw your arms around him, squeezing him tightly. "Jisung, this is huge! You finally found what you love."

He hugged you back just as tightly. "Thank you. You were a big part of it, you know."

You pulled away, shaking your head with a smile. "No, you did this on your own. I just cheered you on."

He looked at you with that soft sincerity that always seemed to catch you off guard. "You were always my inspiration."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "So, if something goes wrong, you’re gonna blame me?"

Jisung let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Of course not! You’ve always been right for me."

The honesty in his words made your heart swell. You couldn’t help but tease him. "Really? Well, it’s an honor then."

"Why are you always playful in moments like this?" he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Because I love seeing you happy," you said, your tone softening.

Jisung smiled, his eyes holding a warmth that melted you inside. "You just existing makes me happy."

You knew Jisung wasn’t always one to express his emotions openly, especially in your friend group, but seeing this side of him—this vulnerable, open side—made you cherish him even more. Without a word, you pulled him into another hug, this one filled with all the love and gratitude you had for him and the others.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you guys," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "You’ve all made my life so much brighter."

Jisung squeezed you tighter. "No. We should be saying that to you."

When you entered your classroom, the first thing that caught your attention was Seungmin’s new haircut. You couldn’t help but stare—it suited him so well, better than you imagined. His previous blonde hair had its charm, but this short black look was on a whole other level.

“Seungmin, you look amazing,” you blurted out, unable to hide your admiration.

He smiled at you, running a hand through his hair, clearly enjoying the compliment. His messy locks only added to the effect, and you found yourself thinking how attractive he looked.

“I love your haircut, Seungmin!” Yuji suddenly appeared, throwing in her own compliment.

A surge of possessiveness hit you—an unfamiliar feeling, but one you couldn’t deny. You had wanted to keep Seungmin to yourself after that night, after he had told you how much he wanted to be by your side.

Without thinking, you grabbed his hand. “Let me borrow him for a bit,” you said to Yuji, your voice light but your grip firm as you pulled him away.

Seungmin didn’t protest, his eyes curious but amused as you led him to a quieter corner.

Once there, you pushed him against the wall, your heart racing. “You’re too hot, Seungmin,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his before you kissed him deeply.

Seungmin froze, shocked by your boldness, but it didn’t take long for him to kiss you back, his hands wrapping around your waist. By the time you pulled away, you were both panting, cheeks flushed.

“Wow,” Seungmin breathed out, his lips still slightly parted.

You covered your face in embarrassment, realizing what you had just done. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I did that.”

Seungmin laughed softly, pulling your hands away from your face. “Don’t be. I loved it.”

You giggled, pushing him lightly when he tried to lean in again. “This is all your fault.”

“If I had known this was my reward, I would have gotten a haircut sooner,” he teased.

“You should’ve,” you said with a playful grin, and the two of you laughed together, the tension easing between you.

You were adjusting the guitar strings in your hands, making sure it was in tune as Jeongin sat across from you, watching silently. He was a year younger than you, but sometimes you felt like he was much more mature.

Once you were satisfied, you strummed a few chords, then glanced up at him with a smile. Without saying anything, you started playing IU’s “Blueming,” your voice filling the music room with a soft, sweet melody.

Jeongin’s eyes never left you as you played. You had always admired his voice, and he would often sing for you. But this was the first time you had picked up a guitar and sang for him.

As you finished the song, Jeongin clapped, his eyes shining with admiration. “You don’t know how beautiful you are right now,” he said softly, his voice sincere.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Really? Then call me noona,” you teased.

Normally, he would cringe at the thought, but seeing you laugh made him smile. “Really? You want me to be your brother? Is that final?” he challenged.

“Will you let me?” you countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” he laughed, leaning back in his chair.

“Then I won’t either,” you chuckled.

Jeongin carefully took the guitar from your hands, strumming a melody you didn’t immediately recognize. But when he started singing the first lyrics, your eyes lit up. It was DAY6’s “Beautiful Feeling.”

His voice was soft, warm, as he sang the first line, and you couldn’t help but harmonize with him.

As the song continued, you exchanged glances, singing together, your voices blending perfectly.

“This song right now,” Jeongin sang softly, his eyes locked on yours, “might just sound like another love song...”

You smiled, your heart feeling light as you harmonized, “But this beautiful feeling... it’s beautiful.”

Jeongin’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips. He stopped strumming, leaning in slowly, hesitating.

You could feel the tension, the uncertainty, but you didn’t wait for him to decide. Instead, you closed the gap, pulling him into a kiss.

And, as Jeongin had sung, it truly was a beautiful feeling.

Later that evening, you were lounging in bed when your phone rang. Chan’s name popped up on the screen.

"Hey," you answered, still laying down. "What’s up?"

"I’m picking you up. We’re going somewhere," Chan’s voice came through the line, teasingly mysterious.

You immediately shot up, excitement bubbling in your chest. "Wait, where are we going?"

"Somewhere special," he said, laughter in his voice.

"Are you on your way already?" you asked, scrambling out of bed.

"No rush. I’m stuck in traffic, so you’ve got time to get ready."

You groaned dramatically. "Chan, it takes me an hour to get ready!"

He chuckled on the other end. "I know. So wear something pretty. You’ll like where we’re going."

"Pretty, pretty?" you clarified, excitement buzzing through your veins.

"Yes, pretty pretty."

You hung up immediately, throwing yourself into getting ready as quickly as possible.

By the time you were done, Chan was already waiting downstairs—well, according to him, you finished in record time, but you knew he had been waiting for at least fifteen minutes. When you stepped outside, his eyes lit up.

"Wow," he breathed, taking your hand and spinning you around. "You look gorgeous."

You laughed, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. "You don’t look too bad yourself."

Like a true gentleman, he opened the passenger door for you and even placed his hand over your head to protect you as you got in. The simple gesture made your heart flutter.

As he settled into the driver’s seat, you couldn’t help but ask, "Are we going on a date?"

"Yes," he said, glancing at you with a grin. "Right after I pick up my award."

You blinked in confusion. "Wait, what? What award?"

"My work got recognized," he said nonchalantly, his eyes shining with happiness.

Your heart burst with pride. "Bang Chan! Oh my God!" you squealed, fanning yourself dramatically. “ I’m so proud of you!"

He laughed at your over-the-top reaction, but you could tell he was touched.

You spent the rest of the evening at the event, watching Chan accept his award with a wide smile on your face, your phone in hand as you filmed every second. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, too proud to hold back the emotions.

That night finally arrived. It was time for your monthly hangout with your friends, and despite what you had said about it being awkward seeing them together again, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement.

Jisung came to pick you up, and you were dressed in your comfy pajamas since it was a sleepover.

“Aww, you’re so cute,” Jisung teased, pinching your cheek as you got in the car.

You laughed. “I’m literally just wearing pajamas, and you think that’s cute?”

“You’re cute in whatever you do,” he replied with a smirk.

You both headed to the nearest convenience store to grab snacks and drinks, along with a couple of games like Uno cards and a board game.

“Tell them we should watch the scariest movie ever made tonight,” you joked as you threw some chips into the basket.

“And you think I’ll support that when I absolutely don’t want to?” Jisung gave you a pointed look, hands on the steering wheel as he drove.

“I’m kidding, I don’t want that either!” You laughed along with him, the idea of watching a horror movie giving you chills.

Suddenly, your phone rang. It was Changbin.

“Where are you guys? We’re watching the scariest movie mankind has ever made,” he announced, causing you and Jisung to swallow nervously and laugh at the coincidence, you really indeed close friends that you can send telepathy.

By the time you arrived at Changbin’s building, you unfastened your seatbelt, ready to hop out, but Jisung gently stopped you by placing a hand on your arm. You looked at him, curious.

“Uhm…” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, struggling to find the right words. “Uhm, can I… can I kiss you before we go in?”

You were confused at first, but then a smile crept up on your face, amused by how shy and adorable he was.

“Of course, Jisung. My Jisung,” you said softly, pinching his cheek before leaning in. “Come here.”

The kiss was innocent, soft, and a little sloppy as you both tried to find your rhythm. When you were both nearly out of breath, you pulled away.

“I think that was enough,” Jisung said, flashing you his usual bright smile as he bopped your nose playfully. “Now let’s go!”

Jisung handed you a pillow to carry while he took charge of all the snacks and games. You both made your way to the elevator, laughing as you rode up to Changbin’s floor.

“Let’s be rich like him in the future,” Jisung joked, glancing around at the fancy interior.

You chuckled at the thought. Changbin had already given you the passcode to his apartment, but out of respect, you hadn’t memorized it. Your friends had made sure you never felt pressured to know it, even though everyone else did. It was just one of the little ways they showed how much they cared about your comfort.

As you walked inside, you were taken aback by how spacious the place was. Changbin welcomed both of you with open arms, hugging you tightly.

“Where’s everyone else?” Jisung asked, looking around.

“They’re in the movie room,” Changbin replied casually.

“Oh, there’s a movie room now?” you exclaimed in surprise. Changbin was indeed to humble for telling you his place wasn’t that nice at all.

“Yeah, and they’re waiting for the snacks, even though Minho already cooked fried chicken for everyone.” You both laughed at that.

When you entered the so-called movie room, you were met with a large screen and chairs that made the room feel like a mini-cinema. The rest of the group was bickering and chatting loudly, too absorbed in their conversation to notice your arrival.

Jisung cleared his throat dramatically. “Kids, your snacks have arrived!”

That got everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to you and Jisung as they erupted in cheers.

“My princess is here!” Minho was the first to stand up and approach you, pulling you into a warm hug.

“A princess in pajamas,” you joked as you hugged him back.

Some of the others ran to Jisung, helping him with the snacks, while Seungmin came over to you, lifting you off the ground in a playful spin.

“I’m happy to see you too, Seungmin,” you said, laughing.

Jeongin walked up and kissed your cheek, whispering, “You smell nice.”

You smiled and mumbled a shy, “Thank you.”

As everyone settled in, Hyunjin came up from behind and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’m happy you’re here,” he murmured.

You smiled, reaching up to caress his arms. Chan, who was sitting nearby, gave you a warm smile, silently acknowledging your presence. The room was filled with chatter and laughter, the perfect reunion despite everyone’s busy schedules.

The movie started soon after. Jeongin, hands full of popcorn, looked confused. “I thought we were watching the scariest movie mankind has ever made?”

Instead of a scary movie, something boring was playing, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the letdown.

Halfway through the movie, your throat felt dry, so you quietly stood up to get a drink from the kitchen. As you entered, you spotted Changbin there, watching over something.

“You’re not watching with them?” you asked curiously.

“I will, but I’m waiting for the cake to finish baking,” he said with a smile.

You took a sip of water and leaned against the sink. “Cake? What’s the cake for?”

“It’s for Chan. And also, Jisung and Felix’s birthdays are coming up, so I’m baking for them too.”

You felt touched by his thoughtfulness, knowing that their birthdays were on weekdays, and celebrating all together might be difficult. “That’s so sweet of you,” you said softly.

Changbin smiled, then grabbed a bottle of wine. “Want some? The ambiance feels right.”

You chuckled and nodded, letting him pour you a glass. You clinked glasses and took a sip, enjoying the light buzz from the wine.

“So… what’s your plan now?” Changbin asked suddenly, his tone becoming more serious. He always seemed to know what was going on with everyone.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, laughing a little at how uncertain everything had become. “It all started because of that blue sticky note you put in my binder.”

He laughed too. “Yeah, that was probably the cringiest thing I’ve ever done. Love can really make you act like a fool.”

You playfully nudged him. “Don’t call it that! I thought it was cute.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “You think it was cute?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, in that case, I’m willing to do it again, even if Minho calls me a soft boy,” he joked, laughing at the thought.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, the kind that didn’t feel awkward at all. You sipped your wine, feeling the warmth spread through your chest.

“Chan said you won’t pick any of us,” Changbin said quietly, staring into his glass.

You exhaled softly, the weight of that decision settling over you. “Yeah… I can’t do it,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “I can’t afford to lose any of you… because… I love you.”

Changbin looked up at you, his eyes warm. “We’re all glad for your decision. You deserve to be showered with love, and we’re willing to give that to you. You deserve everything.”

His words hit you straight in the heart, and before you knew it, you were throwing yourself into his arms, kissing him. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or just the flood of emotions, but the kiss was hard and desperate. Changbin nearly stumbled, but he held onto your waist for support, his legs barely holding him up as your lips met.

You were literally making him weak.

You were lost in your own worlds when a soft cough broke the silence.

"Ehem, excuse me, just getting some water." It was Hyunjin. His voice pulled you back to the present, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

"Let's get back to the movie." You smoothed out Changbin's shirt with a light touch before stepping out of his hold.

Returning to the room, you made your way to Felix, who was snuggled up with his yellow chicken plushie. He put his arms around you, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head as you leaned into him. Together, you settled in to watch the rest of the movie.

As the end credits rolled, the room was dim, the only light coming from the flickering screen. Just then, Changbin reappeared, carrying a cake lit up by glowing candles. The warm glow filled the room, and suddenly, everything felt so much more meaningful.

With a cheeky grin, Changbin began to sing, "Congratulations~~."

Laughter erupted around the room as he made his way toward Chan, who was already giggling, trying to hide his face behind his hands. Everyone jumped to their feet, clapping, the energy light and joyful as you all joined in, voices harmonizing.

"Congratulations! You're one step closer to achieving your dreams!" Felix's voice was filled with pride, and he hugged Chan from behind, holding him tight. His smile was radiant, and for a moment, it felt like time stood still, the warmth of Felix’s embrace matching the love in his words.

"I'm so proud of our leader," Hyunjin said, wiping at his eyes dramatically, but the emotion behind it was real. He threw his arm around your shoulders, his presence comforting and grounding.

Jeongin's teasing voice broke the moment. "If you become a famous producer, make me famous too!"

Laughter bubbled up again, the teasing only masking the genuine admiration everyone felt for Chan.

"And if you get famous, buy me a car," Seungmin added with a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Jisung, grinning ear to ear, chimed in. "If he becomes famous, I don’t need to study music anymore! I’ll get hired on the spott."

Minho’s voice cut through the banter, his tone playful yet affectionate. "He’ll finally release our song ‘Blue Sticky Notes.’ I know it’s cringey, but I love that song."

The laughter was uncontrollable now, everyone caught up in the warmth and joy of the moment. But beneath it all, there was a deep sense of connection. These people—these friends—were your family. You weren’t just sharing jokes and cake; you were sharing dreams, memories, and a love that ran deeper than words.

As the laughter slowly died down, the reality of the moment settled in. These weren’t just fleeting interactions—these were the moments that defined everything. The kind of moments you’d hold onto when things got hard, the moments you’d replay in your mind when you needed to remember why you kept going.

You looked around at each of them—Chan, with his eyes shining with happiness; Felix and Changbin, with their quiet warmth; Hyunjin, full of life; Minho, teasing but sincere; Jeongin and Seungmin, both laughing freely; and Jisung, always ready with a joke. They all meant so much to you.

Moments like these were your favorite—the ones where the world felt right, where nothing else mattered but the people you were with. You wouldn’t trade this for anything, not the laughter, not the closeness, not the unspoken love that filled the air.

You'd hold these memories close, treasure them with all your heart. And you knew, as long as you had them, you’d always have a piece of happiness to carry with you.

You’d write it all down—on your blue sticky note—a reminder that in the simplest moments, surrounded by the people you loved, life felt perfect. Full of love, joy, and endless gratitude.

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happy birthday, jisungie and felixseu!

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violettwrites · 2 months ago

Text

company of misfits — tp!daryl

a/n: thank u nonnie for sending this request in !! i absolutely love writing the tp!trio honestly, their banter is some of the best. even when reader is in a bad mood 🥺

i hope you enjoyed, and i hope i did your request justice ! if you guys did enjoy, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment, and give me a follow if you want to see more of my work ! i always appreciate the support ! and as always, my ask box is open ! i will link it below

summary: reader has a bad day, and the dixon brothers know just how to make it more bearable.

requested: anon requested; hii dear!! could you write some fluff in the tp!daryl au, where reader has a bad day and is in a very bad mood, and the brothers notice that and try to cheer them up? (they have no idea what to do but they are trying their best)

word count: 1,011

warnings: swearing, alcohol

resources: divider by @/adornedwithlight

➵ masterlist

➵ ask box

you trudged up the dirt path through the trailer park, the weight on your shoulders from the day hanging heavy as you made your way towards your trailer. the sun was high in the afternoon sky— and having just worked a ridiculously long shift at the local diner, you were just done with the day; even though it wasn’t over yet.

as you neared your trailer, you noticed the dixon brothers outside theirs, beers in hand as they chatted lazily. daryl was the first to notice you, his blue eyes immediately trained on your figure. he noticed how your shoulders were slumped, your face showed no emotion, and he could just tell you had a shit day. he had seen that look on you before. merle, oblivious as ever, was busy recounting some story from his time in lockup. but daryl nudged him with his foot, nodding his head towards your figure as you made your way into your trailer— praying your dad wasn’t home, because that would just add to the mountain of shit on your shoulders.

both daryl and merle stood up and made their way towards your trailer, letting themselves in. they knew your dad wasn’t home, because they had seen him leave earlier in his old pickup. where he had gone? they didn’t bother to ask, because why would they speak to a piece of shit like him. your head turned when you heard the door open, spotting the two dixon brothers, and the corner of your lips quirked ever so slightly. you enjoyed their company, but you didn’t really want to be around anyone right now.

“hey, sunshine, what’s eatin’ at ya?” merle was the first to speak— like always —his usual grin plastered across his lips. you didn’t respond, just shrugged your shoulders a little as you plopped onto the couch, head tilting back as you looked at the ceiling. the two brothers followed your lead, sitting down on either side of you, and you internally groaned. they wouldn’t give up until you told them what was wrong.

daryl looked to his brother for guidance, a pointed look on his face as his eyes flickered from merle, to you. “you think i know how to deal with shit like this?” he mouthed back to daryl, and the younger dixon rolled his eyes, directing his attention back to you. he didn’t know how to handle situations like this either. feelings weren’t his strong point.

sighing in annoyance, merle spoke up. “what’s the problem? yer face looks like ya lost a fight with a wasp next.” the analogy made your brows furrow as you looked at merle. he always said some odd shit that you never understood.

“just had a bad day, alright?” you muttered, crossing your arms across your chest as you stared forward, eyes trained on the blank screen of the television in front of you. merle rubbed the back of his neck, looking to daryl for backup this time.

daryl sighed softly, and tried a softer approach. “anything we can do to help?” his voice was quieter, less teasing than his older brother’s.

you shook your head, but the gesture was half-hearted. you didn’t want to burden them with your problems that seemed so large, yet so minuscule at the same time. “not unless you can fix the world in the next five minutes,” you scoffed a little, chewing on your bottom lip.

merle, always the smart ass, grinned widely. “well, darlin’, i ain’t no miracle worker but i could try.”

before you could retort, he disappeared from the living room of your trailer, straight out the door, leaving you and daryl in confused yet curious silence. he watched you figdet with your hands, sensing you were on edge— but he didn’t know how to fix it.

“you don’t gotta talk about it,” he said finally, his voice low, “but you don’t gotta deal with it alone either.”

you looked over at him, wondering when he had become so wise. but there was something earnest in his expression that made your heart soften— just a little. merle returned before you could say anything back though, a bottle of whiskey and a few cups in his hands. “aight, so maybe i can’t fix the world, but i sure as hell can make it go down a bit smoother.”

you watched as he messily poured the liquid into the cups, handing the first one to you as he gave you a wink. “it’s like medicine, but the fun kind.”

you couldn’t help the small smile on your lips, despite yourself. “you think whiskey is gonna solve my problems?” you asked, looking up at him with an amused look.

merle clinked his cup against yours, an eager grin on his lips. “no, but it’ll make ‘em real fuzzy for a bit, an’ sometines that’s all ya need.”

daryl rolled his eyes, but spoke up anyway. “he’s right, y’know? ‘bout makin’ thinks fuzzy.” and you wondered when both of those boys had become so wise in their odd little ways. maybe it was because they knew how to handle bad days without having to confront their issues. they just forgot, in a sense.

for the first time that day, the weight on your shoulders felt a little lighter. it wasn’t the whiskey or the dumb jokes merle kept making, and it wasn’t daryl’s quiet, steady presence at your side. it was all of it together— their clumsy, awkward attempts at cheering you up that actually worked. you took a long drink, feeling the burn of the alcohol chase away that lingering frustration.

“thanks,” you spoke, glancing at the two ot them. “i needed this.”

merle clapped you on the back, grinning like a fool. “that’s what we’re here for, sweetheart! doin the lord’s work, one drink at a time.”

daryl shook his head, but you saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. he didn’t need to say anything more. just being there, sitting with you in the fading light, was enough.

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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

Text

non ho l’eta — nanami kento.

“I’m okay, sensei.” you managed to say, though your voice wavered with the effort of holding back. “It’s just... a lot to adjust to, I guess.” He nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a question left unasked, and you wondered if he knew—if he could see the turmoil in your heart. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know.” he said after a moment, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Whatever it is you’re going through... you can talk to me.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Modern AU!;

WARNING/s: Angst, Fluff, Safe For Work (SFW), Age Difference (Reader is in early 20s, Nanami is in late 30s), Unrequited Romance, Falling In Love, First Love, Emotional Hurt, Comfort, Confession, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Loss, Letting Go, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Loneliness, Depiction of Grief, Depiction of Age Gap;

WORDS: 11k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i told myself this was going to be only five thousand words but it ends up being so long. i'm really sorry. you've been dealing with how long this is. but i love this a lot. i wrote it listening to the song with the same title as this fic and just as much, i think about that manga i read years ago, after the rain. its a good story and the ending, where the ml lets the fl lead go because he cares about her youth - it was great. i hope you like it anyway. thank you for reading!!! i love you all <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

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A NEW BEGINNING MUST ALWAYS COME YOU THINK. As you settle into the quiet, unfamiliar countryside, the weight of the loss still clings to you. The days are filled with the sounds of nature—birds chirping, the rustle of leaves—but they feel muted compared to the life you left behind. The house is smaller, the town quieter, and everything around you seems to move at a slower pace. But inside, the grief swirls like a storm, refusing to be tamed by the peaceful surroundings.

Your beloved brother Yuuji, always so full of energy, has been quieter since the move. He’s trying to be strong, to put on a brave face for you, but you can see the sadness in his eyes. It was obvious, with how his smile never reaching his eyes like it usually does.

And it felt odd, it felt weird. You weren’t used to your brother being in this. And it hurts you. But you know that you didn’t know what to do to comfort him. You don’t want to drive him away by speaking to him about it. And you don’t want to hurt him by making him feel like you were overbearing either.

Your new house was still quiet. And you weren’t used to that either. Grandpa Wasuke’s voice would be ringing out through the house today, telling you both to go and start washing up so you could eat dinner. Or sometimes when you guys got home late because of sports practice, he would be too loud to scold you because you both forget to tell him that you were going home late and making him worried.

You miss your grandfather. And you were sure of Yuuji’s feelings being the same too. The silence was too loud, even between you and your brother. You wished it wasn’t. Because you were all you had now. One evening, as you both sit on the porch, the sky painted in the soft hues of sunset, Yuji breaks the silence.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he begins, his voice softer than usual. “Being here, without him."

"Yeah." You mumble under your breath. "It...it is."

Your brother lets out a soft sigh. "I thought moving away would help, but...”

He trails off, staring at the horizon, his usual spark dimmed by the weight of unimaginable grief. You nod, understanding exactly what he means. The move was supposed to be a new beginning, but it feels more like an escape that didn’t quite work. And yet, you were stuck. And so was he too.

“I miss him so much, you know?” you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. “I thought...maybe if we came here, it wouldn’t hurt as much. But everything just reminds me of him. Even...even the silence......"

Yuuji looks at you, his lipspursed in a line. "I....I know."

"Grandpa’s voice is not here anymore and not hearing it anymore is just….” You feel the tears threatening to fall.

Yuuji turns to you, his expression a mix of sadness and determination. “We’ve still got each other. At least there’s that, sis.” he says, his hand reaching out to rest on yours. “And we’ll get through this. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but...we will.”

His words are simple, but they carry a weight of hope that you cling to. The grief might not vanish with a change of scenery, but at least you have Yuji by your side. And that, somehow, makes the pain a little more bearable.

The new town was picturesque—a small, idyllic place with rolling fields, charming cottages, and a slower pace of life that starkly contrasted with the frenetic energy of the city you had left behind. The local college, with its ivy-covered walls and quaint architecture, offered a promise of new beginnings and opportunities. Yet, beneath the serene surface, both you and Yuuji felt an underlying emptiness that was impossible to ignore.

As you and Yuuji navigated your first weeks at college, you found yourselves struggling to adapt to the quieter, more insular environment. The once-familiar hum of city life, with its constant activity and vibrant energy, was replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds. The silence of the countryside, while initially soothing, soon became a reminder of the profound solitude you both felt.

The college itself was a small, close-knit community, where everyone seemed to know each other. The interactions were friendly and the atmosphere warm, but the sense of being an outsider in this new world was palpable. The academic workload was manageable, but your focus was often fragmented by the persistent ache of grief. Classes that once might have been engaging felt distant and abstract, overshadowed by the weight of your personal loss.

Every corner of the town seemed to hold echoes of the life you had left behind. The quaint coffee shop that you frequented, with its rustic charm and homemade pastries, became a bittersweet reminder of the comfort you once had. The local park, with its winding paths and serene pond, offered moments of reflection but also highlighted the contrast between the peaceful surroundings and the turmoil within.

The routine of daily life was a constant struggle between embracing the new and mourning the past. Each day, you and Yuuji tried to immerse yourselves in your studies and social activities, hoping to find distraction and connection. Yet, despite your best efforts, the shadows of grief seemed to follow you, making it difficult to engage fully with the present.

Yuuji’s energy began to return with the arrival of new friends. He introduced you to them one day—Kugisaki Nobara, a fiery and confident girl with a sharp tongue, and Fushiguro Megumi, a quiet and serious boy who seemed to understand more than he let on. You watched as your brother slowly began to resemble his old self, the grief loosening its grip on him with each laugh he shared with them, each story he told.

There was a joy in his voice that you hadn’t heard in months, a tenderness in the way he spoke about his new friends, and it warmed your heart to see him healing. You felt truly happy for him—how could you not? He deserved this chance to move forward, to find light in the darkness.

And yet, a small, stubborn pain lodged itself in your chest, growing a little each day. You couldn’t help but notice the way you were falling behind. No matter how much you tried, the sorrow still clung to you, as if you were trapped in a place where time stood still, unable to reach the same place of healing that Yuji had found.

You tried to join in, to share in his happiness, but it felt like you were on the outside looking in, a spectator in your own life. The laughter that once came so easily to you now felt forced, and every smile was tinged with a sadness you couldn’t shake.

Yuuji didn’t notice—or maybe he did, but he didn’t know how to help. He was so caught up in his new friendships, in the joy of finally finding some semblance of normalcy, that your struggles seemed to fade into the background. You didn’t blame him for it; you were glad he had found something to hold onto. But the loneliness was there, a constant reminder that while he was moving forward, you were still stuck in the past, unable to move on.

A lot of this was on you—that much you were painfully aware of. Yuuji had nothing to do with your unhappiness; he had been nothing but supportive, trying his best to bring some light back into your life. No, it was you who clung to the sorrow, who let it seep into every corner of your being until it became a part of you. You were the one at fault, wallowing in the pain because it felt like the only way to hold on to the past.

Maybe, in some twisted way, you were punishing yourself. The guilt gnawed at you, whispering that you hadn’t been a good enough granddaughter, that you had failed him in some way. And the thought of moving on, of letting go of the grief, felt like a betrayal. Because if you forgot, if you let the pain fade, what would be left of your grandfather? Wouldn’t that mean he didn’t exist anymore?

You couldn’t bear the thought. He was all you and Yuuji had, the one who had raised you, who had been your anchor in a world that often felt too chaotic to navigate alone. Clinging to him, to the pain, to the loneliness he had left behind—it felt like the only way to keep him close, to make sure he wasn’t forgotten.

You knew it wasn’t healthy, that it was holding you back while Yuuji was moving forward. But you couldn’t let go. Not yet. Not when it felt like losing him all over again. So you held on, hoping that by keeping the pain alive, you could keep a part of him with you, even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness in the process.

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YOU REALIZED THAT YOU WERE A NIGHT OWL. Because the night felt like a relief. Even if it was too loud, the night was kinder than the day. It was two sides of the coin, a mercy and a pain still, you think. The silence of the countryside was both a comfort and a torment.

The absence of city noise left space for your thoughts to swirl, allowing the grief to settle in more deeply. The memories of your grandfather, so vivid and cherished, felt both near and painfully out of reach, teasing you with their closeness yet reminding you of the distance that now separated you.

The quiet of the countryside, which had once promised peace, now seemed to amplify the emptiness left by his passing. During the day, you could distract yourself with the mundane tasks of settling into a new home, but when night fell, the stillness felt oppressive, as if the world had stopped moving just to remind you of what you’d lost.

It was a strange paradox—the night brought a certain relief, a break from the pretense of normalcy that the day demanded, but it also intensified the ache within you. The darkness was both a sanctuary and a prison, offering solace in its quiet yet refusing to let you escape the sorrow that lay just beneath the surface. In the night, you could almost feel him there, his presence lingering in the shadows, but it was a comfort tinged with the sharp pain of knowing he was gone.

The countryside, with its vast, empty spaces and endless quiet, had a way of magnifying your loneliness. What was supposed to be a balm for your grief had instead become a mirror, reflecting the void his absence had created in your life. And so, as you lay in bed, staring into the darkness, you couldn’t help but feel that the night, though kinder in some ways, also held a cruelty of its own—one that forced you to confront the depth of your loss in the silence that surrounded you.

During the day, you tried to lose yourself in the routine of university life, hoping that the distraction would somehow ease the ache. But even the familiar rhythm of lectures and assignments couldn’t drown out the emptiness that had settled within you. It was in one of these moments, as you sat quietly in the college library, as he approached you after the lecture, his usual composed expression softened by concern.

“May I ask you something?” he said, his voice low and measured. There was no judgment in his tone, only a gentle curiosity that made you nod in response.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, his gaze steady on yours. “Why are you still in university?”

The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t something you had given much thought to—not really. You had simply kept going, attending classes, completing assignments, because that’s what you were supposed to do. But now, confronted by professor Nanami Kento’s calm and earnest inquiry, you find yourself struggling to answer.

You hesitated, searching for words that didn’t come easily. “I don’t know, sensei.” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess... It's what I’ve always done. For relief….But I just….I don’t….”

Nanami nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “But is it what you want? To be here?” he asked, his tone gentle but insistent. “Or are you here because it’s easier to keep going than to stop and face what you’re really feeling?”

The honesty in his words cut through the numbness that had settled over you. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze as the truth of his question sank in. Why were you still here? Was it because you truly wanted to be, or because it was easier to bury yourself in routine than to confront the grief that was still so raw and overwhelming?

“I don’t know, sensei.” you repeated, your voice trembling now. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

Nanami didn’t push you for more. Instead, he simply stood there, offering his presence as a quiet support. “It’s okay not to know anything.” he said after a moment. “It’s okay to take time to figure it out. But don’t be afraid to ask yourself these questions. Don’t be afraid to face what’s really going on inside.”

His words lingered with you long after he had left, echoing in the silence of your room that night. For the first time, you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it was okay to pause, to question, to not have all the answers right away. Maybe it was okay to admit that you were still hurting, still lost, and that you didn’t have to have it all figured out just yet.

From what you remember, the first person to truly notice your pain was your professor in Philosophy—Nanami Kento. He was always composed, with a stern exterior that didn’t betray much emotion, but there was a kindness in his eyes that softened whenever he looked at you and Yuuji. Perhaps it was because he understood, on some level, what it was like to carry the burden of loss.

Nanami–sensei never pried, never asked questions that would force you to confront what you weren’t ready to face. But there was something in the way he looked at you, a quiet understanding that made you feel seen, even in your darkest moments. He didn’t offer empty words of comfort or try to tell you that things would get better with time. Instead, he acknowledged your pain with a simple nod or a gentle word, as if to say that it was okay to feel what you were feeling.

You often caught him watching you during lectures, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary, as if he was trying to assess how you were holding up. He’d ask you how you were doing in a way that suggested he wasn’t just asking about your academic performance but about you as a person, as someone who was grieving. His presence was steady, a quiet anchor in the storm of emotions you were struggling to navigate.

In those moments, you felt a strange sense of comfort. Nanami didn’t try to fix you, didn’t push you to move on before you were ready. He simply let you exist in your pain, offering a silent understanding that you weren’t alone in it. And though it didn’t make the nights any easier or the grief any less suffocating, it was a small comfort to know that someone else understood, that someone else had been there too.

Somehow, it was easy to see in his eyes that he had gone through something similar, and that pained him in some way. And he hated that someone were to be in a position akin to yours, in a similar conundrum so young as you were. He took it upon himself to make sure you were both doing okay, often checking in on you, offering guidance, and making sure that neither of you felt alone.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the office window, illuminating the neat rows of books and papers that lined Nanami’s desk. The quiet hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room as you sat across from him, feeling the weight of your emotions as you tried to make sense of your new life.

“Nanami–sensei.” you began, your voice soft but determined, “I’ve noticed you’ve been going out of your way to check in on me. I appreciate it, really, but I can’t help but feel like there’s more to it. You seem to understand what we’re going through in a way that’s more than just professional.”

Nanami looked up from his papers, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of sadness. He leaned back in his chair, taking a moment before responding. “It’s not easy to see young people struggling with grief and loss. It brings back memories of my own experiences, of times when I had to navigate similar challenges.”

You frowned slightly, sensing the depth of his feelings. “You’ve been through something like this yourself?”

Nanami nodded, his expression reflecting the weight of past pain. “Yes. I’ve had my share of losses, and while each experience is unique, it is normal. Seeing you in such heavy burdens….I must help in that. It is my duty.”

A moment of silence passed between you, the gravity of his words settling over the room. You could see the empathy in his warm brown eyes, a deep well of understanding that went beyond mere sympathy.

“I didn’t realize you had experienced something like this, sensei.” you said quietly. “It’s comforting to know that you understand, but it’s also hard to see how much it affects you. I’m so sorry about what happened to you, sensei.”

Nanami’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “Please don’t worry. I don’t mind. And I try to keep my personal experiences separate from my role as a teacher, but sometimes it’s inevitable. I can’t help but empathize deeply with students who are struggling. If it helps you, then maybe it would make it easier on you.”

You nodded, appreciating the honesty and vulnerability he was showing. “It’s been hard for us to adjust, with everything that’s happened. I understand, sensei. But….. Your support has made a difference, even if we haven’t always known how to express it.”

Nanami offered a small, reassuring smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I want to make sure you and Yuuji know that you’re not alone in this. Sometimes, just knowing that someone cares and is willing to listen can make a difference.”

There was a sense of mutual understanding in the room, a connection forged through shared experiences and empathy. The conversation had brought a sense of clarity, revealing the depth of Nanami’s compassion and the personal struggles he had faced.

“You’ve been a source of support and I want to thank you for that.” you said, feeling a sense of gratitude. “It’s good to know that...we have someone. It's...good. That I...I have someone, sensei.”

Nanami’s expression was one of gentle encouragement. “You’re welcome. If you ever need someone to talk to or guidance as you navigate this transition, don’t hesitate to reach out. My door is always open.”

At first, it was just a relief to have someone looking out for you, someone who cared enough to notice the cracks in your armor. But as time went on, you found yourself longing for more of his attention, craving the comfort he provided. His presence was steady, reassuring, a shining new light that gave you warmth in the cold uncertainty of your new life.

Every glance, every word of encouragement, every moment spent with him, stirred something deep within you. You began to realize that it wasn’t just gratitude or respect that you felt for him. It was something more, something that made your heart race and your thoughts linger on him long after he had gone. You were falling in love with Nanami Kento, and as frightening as it was to acknowledge, it was also something you could no longer deny.

The realization that you were in love with Nanami Kento crept up on you slowly, like the dawn breaking over the quiet countryside. At first, you tried to brush it off, convincing yourself that it was just a fleeting infatuation born out of your need for comfort in a difficult time. But the more you tried to suppress those feelings, the stronger they became.

It started with the way your heart would skip a beat when he entered the room, the way your eyes would search for him in a crowd, hoping for just a brief moment of connection. You found yourself hanging onto his every word, cherishing the conversations you shared, no matter how brief. His calm demeanor, his quiet strength, the way he seemed to understand you without needing to ask too many questions—it all drew you in, making you feel safe in a world that had felt so unstable for so long.

The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself yearning for his presence, even when he wasn’t around. You would replay your interactions in your mind, searching for hidden meanings in his words, wondering if he felt even a fraction of what you were feeling. The thought of being in love with him was both exhilarating and terrifying, a delicate balance between hope and fear.

You knew it was risky, that opening your heart to someone else meant making yourself vulnerable again, something you weren’t sure you were ready for. But the warmth you felt in Nanami’s presence, the way he made you feel like you weren’t alone in your pain, was something you couldn’t ignore. And so, despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, you allowed yourself to embrace the feelings growing inside you, no longer able to deny the truth: you were in love with Nanami Kento.

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IT FELT WRONG TO FEEL GENUINE FEELINGS FOR HIM. But you just can't help yourself. You had found something warm in your life for the first time in a long time. And you wanted to hold onto theat feeling, even just for a little while.

You found yourself looking forward to Nanami's lectures with a new sense of anticipation, one that went beyond the academic content. It wasn't just about the subject matter or the intellectual challenge; it was the way his presence seemed to anchor you in a world that often felt tumultuous.

His voice, calm and measured, had a soothing quality that cut through the noise of your internal struggles, providing a sense of stability that was both comforting and invigorating. It felt like the sun in the morning sky, greeting you with all the warmth it could offer.

Every lecture became a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the outside world faded away and all that remained was the rhythmic cadence of his speech and the depth of his insights. His voice had a way of wrapping around you like a soft blanket, offering warmth and clarity in moments of confusion. It was as if he spoke directly to your soul, providing the reassurance you craved without even realizing it.

You began to pay closer attention to the little details of his presence, each one becoming a part of the mosaic of your growing affection. You noticed how he always carried a thermos of coffee, a small but meaningful ritual that seemed to add a personal touch to his professional demeanor. It was a simple thing, but it spoke to a side of him that was both grounded and familiar, like a quiet reflection of his everyday life.

The way he adjusted his glasses when he was deep in thought fascinated you. It was a small, habitual gesture that seemed to signal his immersion in the subject, his focus and dedication to his work. In those moments, when he was lost in contemplation, you saw a different side of him—one that was entirely absorbed in the pursuit of knowledge and understanding. It was a reminder of his depth, his passion for what he did, and it drew you in further.

And then there were the rare but genuine smiles that occasionally graced his lips. These smiles were not frequent, but when they appeared, they were like fleeting glimpses of sunlight breaking through the clouds. They were unguarded and sincere, revealing a side of him that was warm and approachable. These moments were precious to you, a sign that beneath his composed exterior, there was a person who experienced joy and kindness in the midst of his professional life.

Each detail, each nuance of his behavior, seemed to create a rich tapestry that captivated you. The combination of his voice, his habits, and his rare smiles painted a portrait of someone who was both steadfast and deeply human. As you became more attuned to these subtleties, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn't anticipated. The more you observed, the more you appreciated the intricate layers of his character, each one adding depth to your feelings and making it even harder to keep your emotions in check.

In the quiet moments between lectures, when you would reflect on these details, you felt a growing sense of connection to him. It was as if the little things he did were speaking directly to your heart, creating a bond that was both profound and fragile. And with each passing day, the realization that you were falling for him became more undeniable, a truth that both comforted and challenged you as you navigated the complexities of your emotions.

Each day with the distance, your heart kept making a way towards Nanami–sensei, slowly weaving themselves into the fabric of your life in ways you couldn’t have anticipated. You found yourself looking forward to his classes with an eagerness that surprised you, your thoughts consumed by the anticipation of seeing him, hearing his voice, and perhaps catching one of those brief, meaningful glances that seemed to hold a world of unspoken understanding.

Your interactions with him took on a new significance. Every exchange, no matter how small, became a moment to savor. You began to notice the little things about him—the way he would adjust his tie with meticulous precision, the way his eyes softened when he spoke to you, the subtle way his lips would curve into a faint smile when you managed to make him laugh. These details became precious to you, feeding the growing affection in your heart.

But with that growing affection came a gnawing anxiety. You were all too aware of the delicate nature of your feelings, and the fear of rejection loomed large in your mind. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if your admiration was one-sided, a product of your own need for comfort and connection? The thought of losing the quiet understanding and support he offered terrified you, and so you kept your feelings hidden, tucked away in the quiet corners of your heart.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried to keep your emotions in check, they found ways to surface. You noticed that you began to linger after class, hoping for a few extra moments with him. You found yourself volunteering for tasks you knew would require his guidance, just to have an excuse to be near him. And when he asked you how you were doing, his concern evident in his voice, you felt a pang of longing so intense it nearly took your breath away.

And then, one afternoon, as you were gathering your things after class, Nanami Kento and you bumped into each other. You blinked as you stopped. When you realized who he was, you gasped and bowed. You started to apologize to him. There was a hesitation in his movements, an uncharacteristic uncertainty that made your heart race.

“I’m so sorry, Nanami-sensei. I didn’t mean it—” you stammered, your voice trembling with the weight of unsaid words. The apology slipped out before you could fully process it, driven by a fear that you had somehow crossed a line, exposing too much of yourself.

Nanami’s expression remained calm, his eyes studying you with an unreadable intensity. For a moment, you feared that you had made things awkward, that the fragile connection between you might shatter under the pressure of your emotions.

But then, with a gentleness that both surprised and reassured you, he spoke. “May I walk you to your next class?” His voice was low and steady, grounding you in the moment. But there was something else in his tone, a subtle shift that hinted at a deeper concern, a connection that went beyond the formal boundaries of teacher and student.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. The offer was simple, yet the way he framed it made it feel like more—a gesture of care, a quiet acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that had been building between you.

Unable to trust your voice, you nodded, grateful for the reprieve. Together, you fell into step, the silence between you heavy with unsaid thoughts, yet comforting in its familiarity.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but wonder if Nanami sensed the turmoil within you, if he understood the depth of what you had tried to keep hidden. And as the campus buzzed quietly around you, the world outside seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in a moment suspended in time.

Finally, he spoke, his voice breaking the silence with a gentleness that caught you off guard. “You seem... different lately.” he said, his words careful, as if he was treading on fragile ground. “Is everything alright?”

The concern in his voice was genuine, and it took everything in you to hold back the flood of emotions that his words triggered. You wanted to tell him everything, to pour out your heart and confess the feelings that had been building inside you for so long. But the fear held you back, kept your words locked away.

“I’m okay, sensei.” you managed to say, though your voice wavered with the effort of holding back. “It’s just... a lot to adjust to, I guess.”

He nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a question left unasked, and you wondered if he knew—if he could see the turmoil in your heart.

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know.” he said after a moment, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Whatever it is you’re going through... you can talk to me.”

His words were a lifeline, and for a moment, you were tempted to grab hold, to let yourself be vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be since your grandfather’s passing. But the fear of what might happen if you did—if you let him see how deeply you had fallen for him—kept you silent.

Instead, you offered him a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Nanami-sensei. That means a lot.”

He nodded, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer before he looked away, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. But even as the silence returned, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed between you.

Yuuji, ever the perceptive brother, began to pick up on the changes in you with his usual blend of curiosity and teasing. He’d comment on your newfound enthusiasm for school, his tone lighthearted and playful.

“Wow, someone’s really getting into their classes these days.” he’d say, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Are you trying to impress a certain someone?”

But behind his teasing, there was always a hint of concern in his eyes. He knew you well enough to sense when something was amiss, even if you were trying your best to mask it. The bond between you and Yuuji has always been strong, built on shared experiences and mutual support. Now, with only the two of you facing the world, his worry for you was palpable.

You were acutely aware of his concern, but discussing your feelings for Nanami–sensei felt like navigating a minefield. It was a topic too delicate, too intricate to lay bare. The emotions you were grappling with were still forming, shifting and evolving in ways you couldn’t fully articulate. The fear of misunderstanding, the potential for things to become awkward or strained, made it almost impossible to open up to Yuuji about it.

So you chose to keep your feelings close, wrapped in the quiet spaces of your heart. Whenever Yuuji’s concern for you surfaced, you would offer a reassuring smile and change the subject, deflecting his probing questions with practiced ease.

“Just trying to find my footing, bro.” you’d say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “You know how it is, trying to make the most of a new start.”

“You sure?” He asks you, a warm concern in his eyes.

You smiled at him. “I do. I’m fine. Really.”

Yuuji would accept your evasions with a nod, his worry temporarily set aside as he shifted his focus to lighter matters. But you could see the question in his eyes, the unspoken concern that lingered even as he attempted to mask it with humor.

In your heart, you appreciated his concern more than you could express. But the feelings you had for Nanami remained a private struggle, something you needed to work through on your own before you could even begin to share it with anyone, even Yuuji. For now, you hold onto the fragile hope that, in time, you would find a way to navigate your emotions, to understand them and perhaps, one day, to share them without fear.

As you continued to go through your days, the quiet moments with Nanami remained a solace and a source of intense longing. His presence in your life was a beacon, guiding you through the uncertainty of your new surroundings. And though you struggled with the weight of your feelings, you found a measure of comfort in knowing that he was there, a constant, reassuring presence in the midst of the turmoil.

Your interactions with Nanami–sensei became the highlights of your day. You’d catch his gaze during class, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away. There were times when he’d linger after class, asking if you and Yuuji were settling in okay, if you needed anything. His concern felt genuine, and every time he spoke to you, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest.

But with that warmth came uncertainty. Nanami was your sensei, a mentor figure, someone who had taken on the role of a protector for you and your brother. The lines between student and teacher, between gratitude and affection, were blurring in ways that scared you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he could ever see you as anything more than just a student or a young person in need of guidance.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself drawn to him more and more, despite your best efforts to keep your emotions in check. There were moments when you thought you caught something in his eyes, a softness that made you wonder if he might feel something too. But those moments were fleeting, gone before you could fully grasp them.

Still, the longing grew, becoming an ache that you couldn’t ignore. You yearned for more than just his care and concern; you wanted to be closer to him, to know him beyond the walls of the classroom. But the fear of rejection, of ruining the fragile bond you had with him, kept you silent.

The conflict within you was a constant companion, as you tried to navigate your feelings while maintaining the façade of normalcy. You knew that falling in love with Nanami was risky, that it could lead to heartache, but your heart seemed to have a mind of its own, pushing you toward him despite the potential consequences.

You lingered in the classroom long after the other students had left, your movements slow and deliberate as you packed your bag. The quiet of the room was comforting, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. Yuuji had already gone off to his club activities, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and with Nanami.

As you reached for your bag, you felt a pair of eyes on you, an almost tangible weight that drew your gaze. Glancing up, you saw Nanami watching you from his desk, his expression thoughtful, a subtle crease forming between his brows.

His eyes, usually so composed and distant, now held a depth that seemed to reflect his internal contemplation. The warmth of his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the world around you felt like it had narrowed to just the two of you.

You could feel the pull of his attention, the way it lingered on you with a quiet intensity. It was as if he was searching for something, trying to understand a part of you that you hadn’t yet revealed. The weight of his gaze was both comforting and unnerving, a silent conversation that spoke volumes.

Trying to steady yourself, you offered him a tentative smile, hoping it would convey the reassurance you struggled to articulate. But his eyes remained fixed on you, and you wondered what thoughts were running through his mind.

“You’re still here this late.” he said, his voice gentle in the stillness. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to put your feelings into words. “Yeah, I just… needed a moment to myself.”

Nanami nodded, rising from his chair and walking over to you. He stopped a few feet away, leaning casually against the desk beside you, his arms crossed. Despite his composed demeanor, there was something warm in his gaze, something that made your heart flutter.

“It’s been a lot to adjust to, hasn’t it?” he said, his voice low and steady. “A new town, new school, after everything that’s happened.”

You looked down, your fingers nervously playing with the strap of your bag. “Yeah, it has. But… having you here has helped. More than you know, sensei.”

There was a pause, and when you dared to look up, you saw that his expression had softened even more. The usual sternness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a gentleness that made your breath catch.

“I’m glad I could help you.” Nanami replied quietly. He uncrossed his arms, his hand almost reaching out to you before he stopped himself, letting it fall to his side. “You have been through a lot. It’s only natural to need support.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. The way he spoke, the concern in his voice—it was all too much, and yet not enough. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much his presence meant to you, how much you looked forward to these moments alone with him. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Nanami Kento seemed to sense your inner turmoil. He stepped a little closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “If there’s anything you need, anything at all, you know you can come to me, right?”

The sincerity in his voice, the closeness of his presence—it made something inside you ache. You wanted so badly to close the distance between you, to feel his arms around you, to find comfort in his embrace. But you knew you couldn’t. Not yet.

“I know, sensei.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Thank you… for everything.”

He smiled then, a small, rare smile that sent warmth flooding through you. “You don’t have to thank me. Just… take care of yourself. And your brother Yuuji, too. He seems like a good young man too.”

You nodded again, but as you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time. He was still watching you, that same gentle look in his eyes, and you knew then that your feelings were undeniable.

As you walked out of the classroom, your heart felt heavier with the weight of your unspoken emotions, but there was also a small, flickering hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that Nanami could feel the same way.

But even then, you were acutely aware of your limitations and the vast knowledge gap that existed between you and Nanami. He was older, more experienced, a man who had seen and done so much more than you could even imagine. It wasn’t just his age or his wisdom that set him apart—it was the way he carried himself, with a quiet confidence and a sense of purpose that you found both admirable and intimidating.

As much as you were drawn to him, a part of you couldn’t help but doubt whether your feelings could ever be returned. You were still so young, barely stepping into adulthood, while Nanami had long since found his place in the world. What could someone like him possibly see in you? The thought lingered in the back of your mind, a constant reminder of the distance between you.

And then there was the fear—the fear that he might not like you in the way you hoped. He was kind to you, yes, and he looked out for you and Yuuji with a care that went beyond mere duty. But did that kindness stem from affection, or was it simply his nature to protect those who needed it? You didn’t know, and the uncertainty gnawed at you.

The truth was, you couldn’t see how he would ever reciprocate your feelings. He was your professor, a mentor figure, someone who had taken on the role of a guardian in your life. To him, you were just a student, someone who needed guidance and support, not a romantic partner. And yet, despite all your doubts and fears, you couldn’t stop the way your heart leapt whenever you were near him.

The rational part of you tried to suppress those feelings, to remind yourself of the unlikelihood of anything ever happening between you. But the heart has a way of ignoring logic, and yours had latched onto Nanami in a way that was becoming impossible to ignore. You were in love with him, even if you couldn’t say it aloud, even if you didn’t think he could ever feel the same way.

So, you kept those feelings locked away, hidden behind polite smiles and carefully chosen words. It was safer that way, less painful than risking rejection. But even as you tried to push your emotions aside, you knew that they were there, just beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest opportunity to break free.

After a particularly long day of classes, you and Yuuji walked home together under the fading light of the setting sun. His friends were going to be busy tonight, so you were able to go home together. He insisted to help you with your school bag, but you kept insisting that it was fine. Yet, he was your older brother (by four minutes) and had pulled that card and carried your bag for you anyway.

The countryside was quiet, the only sounds being the crunch of gravel beneath your shoes and the distant chirping of crickets. Yuuji had been unusually quiet, and you could feel his eyes on you every now and then, as if he was trying to gauge something. Finally, as you neared your home, he spoke up.

"Hey, you’ve been acting kinda different lately." Yuuji said, his tone light but tinged with concern. "Is everything okay?"

You glanced at him, caught off guard by his sudden observation. "Different? What do you mean?"

Yuuji shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I don’t know. You just seem… I don’t know, distracted? Like your mind’s somewhere else. I noticed you’ve been staying late at school a lot too."

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks and quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice. "It’s nothing, really. Just trying to keep up with everything, I guess."

But Yuuji wasn’t so easily convinced. He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. "It’s more than that, isn’t it? You know you can talk to me, right? We’re in this together."

There was no escaping it now. You sighed, knowing that Yuuji wasn’t going to let this go. "It’s just… there’s a lot on my mind. And yeah, I’ve been thinking about someone."

Yuuji raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Someone? Like who?"

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. Finally, you admitted, "It’s Nanami-sensei."

Yuuji blinked, processing this information. "Nanami-sensei? Our professor Nanami? Who’s like… way older than you?"

You winced at the bluntness of his words. "Yeah, I know. It’s not exactly… ideal."

Yuuji softened, realizing that this was something you were struggling with. "Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I just… didn’t expect it, that’s all. I mean, he’s a good guy, but… you really like him, don’t you?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety at finally saying it out loud. "I do. But it’s complicated, Yuuji. He’s older....and I don’t even know if he’d ever see me that way....I doubt it. I feel like I’m just setting myself up for disappointment. And it’s not…It’s not right. There’s so much wrong with it. I know.”

Yuuji frowned, deep in thought. "That’s a tough spot to be in. But you know, Nanami-sensei seems to care about you a lot. He’s always checking in on you, making sure you’re okay. Maybe there’s more there than you think."

You shook your head, the doubts creeping back in. "Or maybe he’s just being kind because he knows we’ve been through a lot. It’s not like he’d ever look at me the way I look at him. It’s….It’s wrong.”

Yuuji placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, it doesn’t mean you’re not worth it. You deserve to feel some happiness. Even if you never say it to him. Even if you don’t act on it, it’s how you feel. Wrong or right, it’s still human feelings, isn’t it?”

“I just… What should I do? It’s going to be bad, Yuuji. I don’t want to do things that would be bad for me and especially for Nanami-sensei. Over my childish feelings.”

Yuuji’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of empathy and determination. “Listen, it’s not about being childish. Feelings are complicated and real, and they don’t just go away because we want them to. What matters is how you handle them.”

He paused, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe the best thing you can do right now is to take things one step at a time. Figure out what’s best without rushing or putting yourself in a difficult position."

You listened, trying to absorb his words. They offered a sense of perspective, a reminder that navigating your feelings didn’t have to be an all-or-nothing endeavor. Yuuji’s encouragement made you feel less isolated in your struggle, less like you were facing this alone.

“Thanks, bro.” you said quietly, your voice carrying the weight of both gratitude and the lingering uncertainty. “I guess I just need to give myself a bit more grace, and maybe, take a step back to really understand what’s best.”

Yuuji nodded, a reassuring smile on his face. “Exactly. Give yourself the space to figure things out, and don’t be too hard on yourself. Emotions are messy, and that’s okay, hm?”

You looked at him, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thanks, Yuuji. I really needed to hear that."

He grinned, giving you a playful nudge. "What are brothers for? Besides, I kinda want to see how this turns out."

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly. For now, the future was still uncertain, but at least you knew you had Yuuji by your side, no matter what happened next. And maybe, he was all you needed. Because at the end of the day, you know how it will all work out. How it will all end. But you let yourself dream anyway.

You were idealistic, often finding yourself lost in daydreams where you would gather the courage to approach Nanami. In those fantasies, you imagined asking him for patience, telling him that one day, when the time was right, you would be ready to offer your love completely. You pictured yourself standing before him, your heart in your hands, promising that with time, you could bridge the gap between your worlds.

But deep down, you knew this was nothing more than romantic idealism—a longing to experience a love that felt as profound as the feelings you harbored for him. The desire to be seen, to be cherished by someone as steadfast and admirable as Nanami Kento, was powerful, but it was also grounded in a reality you couldn’t ignore.

As much as you wanted to believe that your love could transcend the differences between you, there was a part of you that understood the truth. You were too young, too inexperienced, and no matter how much you grew, there would always be a gap that time alone couldn’t close. Nanami–sensei wasn’t just older—he was wiser, more grounded, and had already lived through phases of life that you had yet to experience.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that he likely wouldn’t want to love someone younger, someone who was still finding their place in the world. His kindness toward you, his care and concern, came from a place of responsibility, not from the kind of romantic interest you wished for. You knew that he saw you as a student, maybe even as someone who needed guidance, but not as an equal partner in love.

This understanding brought with it a quiet, bittersweet resignation. You loved Nanami, perhaps more than you ever thought you could love anyone, but you knew that he wasn’t the one for you. The future you imagined, where you and Nanami could be together, was a beautiful dream, but it was just that—a dream.

As much as it hurt to admit, you knew you had to let go of that dream, to accept that some things, no matter how deeply you wished for them, weren’t meant to be.

The days that followed were a mix of emotions—moments where you felt determined to move on, followed by others where your heart clung stubbornly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. But as time passed, reality became harder to ignore, and you found yourself slowly coming to terms with the truth.

You still admired Nanami–sensei, still cared for him deeply, but you began to see him in a different light. Instead of focusing on the impossible, you tried to appreciate what you did have—a mentor who genuinely cared for your well-being, someone who had guided you through a difficult period of your life. It wasn’t the romantic love you had dreamed of, but it was something valuable, something that had shaped you in ways you hadn’t fully understood before.

In your quieter moments, when you were alone with your thoughts, you allowed yourself to grieve the loss of that dream. It was painful to let go, but you knew it was necessary. Holding on to something that could never be would only cause more heartache in the long run.

═════╰☆╮═════

HE KNOWS THAT HE’S NOT A GOOD MAN. Because what good man can feel like this? Nanami Kento had always prided himself on his ability to maintain control, to keep a clear head no matter the situation. It was a skill honed through years of experience, of facing the harsh realities of life and coming out on the other side with a firm grip on his emotions. But lately, that control had begun to slip, and it all started with you.

At first, he dismissed the subtle changes in his behavior as nothing more than his natural inclination to look after those who needed guidance. You and Yuuji had been through a lot, and it was only right that he, as your teacher, offered support where he could. But as the days turned into weeks, he couldn’t ignore the way his thoughts kept drifting back to you—your quiet resilience, your gentle smiles, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about something you were passionate about.

It wasn’t long before he realized the truth: he was growing attached to you in ways that went far beyond the boundaries of a student-teacher relationship. It was a realization that troubled him deeply, shaking the foundations of the discipline he had built his life upon.

Nanami noticed the way your eyes lingered on him, the subtle shifts in your demeanor whenever you were around him. He wasn’t blind to the affection you tried so hard to keep hidden, the way you seemed to seek out his presence, even if only for a few moments of conversation. There were times when he almost allowed himself to reciprocate, to let his guard down and acknowledge the feelings that were steadily growing in his chest.

But each time, he pulled back, reminding himself of the stark reality of your situation. You were young, with your whole life ahead of you, full of potential and promise. You deserve someone who could match your energy, someone who could grow with you, not someone like him—someone who had already been worn down by the world, who had seen and done things he wished he could forget.

It wasn’t fair to you, he thought, to burden you with the affections of a man who had lost his youth, who had seen too much to ever be truly carefree again. You deserved more than what he could offer, and the thought of tainting your bright future with the shadows of his past was unbearable.

So, Nanami Kento buried his feelings deep inside, locking them away where they couldn’t hurt you—or him. He told himself that it was the right thing to do, that maintaining a professional distance was the only way to protect you both. But no matter how hard he tried, those feelings remained, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to break free at the slightest provocation.

There were moments when he questioned his resolve, when the weight of his own emotions threatened to overwhelm him. But each time, he steeled himself, knowing that this was a line he couldn’t cross. He cared too much about you to allow himself to be selfish, to act on feelings that could only lead to pain and regret.

In the end, Nanami chose to distance himself, subtly at first, hoping you wouldn’t notice. He still checked in on you, still offered his guidance when you needed it, but he made sure to keep a barrier between you, a wall that kept his emotions firmly in check. It was agonizing, knowing that he was pushing away something that could have been beautiful, but he knew it was the only way to ensure that you remained unscathed by the harsh realities of his world.

You were too precious, too full of life, to be drawn into the darkness that he carried with him. And so, Nanami resolved to watch over you from afar, to be the steady presence you could rely on, but never more than that. It was his duty, his responsibility, to protect you—not just from the dangers of the world, but from himself as well.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how strong his feelings for you became, Nanami knew he had to bury them deep, where they would never see the light of day. It was the only way to ensure that you remained untouched by the shadows of his past, free to find a love that was worthy of you, even if that love could never be his.

Nanami Kento had been wrestling with his emotions in solitude, believing that burying his feelings was the only way to protect you from the shadows of his past. It was a decision made with the utmost care, a sacrifice he felt necessary to ensure your happiness. But his internal struggle did not go unnoticed by his colleagues, Gojo Satoru and Shoko Ieiri, who were perceptive enough to sense that something was troubling their friend.

One evening, after a particularly challenging day, Gojo and Shoko decided to check in on Nanami. They found him in the teachers’ lounge, sitting alone with a cup of tea, his expression distant. Gojo, ever the perceptive one, noted the pensive look on Nanami’s face and exchanged a glance with Shoko before approaching him.

“Hey, Nanami!” Gojo greeted, his tone casual but with an underlying concern. “You’ve been a bit off lately. Everything okay?”

Nanami looked up, masking his emotions with a practiced smile. “Just a lot on my mind. Nothing to worry about.”

Shoko, who had been quietly observing, took a seat beside him. “It’s clear something’s bothering you. You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

Nanami’s smile faltered, and he sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his hidden feelings press heavily on him. “I appreciate your concern. It’s just… some feelings are better left buried.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Feelings, huh? Sounds like there’s more to it than just a heavy workload.”

Nanami hesitated before speaking, his voice low. “I’ve been trying to protect someone from my own shortcomings. It’s not fair for them to be burdened with my past, my complexities.”

Shoko’s eyes softened with understanding. “It sounds like you’re talking about… someone important. Someone who means a lot to you.”

Nanami nodded, his gaze fixed on his tea. “Yes, someone who deserves better than what I can offer. It’s better this way.”

Gojo, always one to push boundaries, leaned forward, his expression serious. “Nanami, it’s okay to feel like love is unattainable. It’s okay to have feelings and to struggle with them. But don’t forget that you’re human too. You deserve happiness, even if it’s complicated. And even if you don’t act on it. Feeling it is not wrong.”

Shoko nodded in agreement, her voice gentle but firm. “You’ve been carrying this burden alone, trying to shield someone else from your own pain. But it’s important to acknowledge your own feelings, to give yourself permission to be vulnerable. Especially for this person.”

Nanami looked between them, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. “But what if my feelings could only cause more harm? What if being honest means jeopardizing their well-being? I know it will.”

Gojo shook his head, a small smile forming. “Sometimes, it’s not about whether your feelings will cause harm. It’s about being true to yourself and giving yourself the chance to experience what you deserve. Love isn’t always straightforward, and it’s not always fair. But it’s part of the human experience. Acted on or not, it’s what it is, isn’t it?”

Shoko reached out, placing a comforting hand on Nanami’s shoulder. “You’ve done so much for others. It’s time to think about yourself too. It’s okay to be vulnerable, to let yourself feel and to hope for something more, even if it feels unattainable.”

Nanami’s gaze softened, and he looked down at his hands, the weight of their words sinking in. “I’ve been so focused on protecting them, on making sure they don’t suffer because of me. I didn’t realize how much I’ve neglected my own needs.”

Gojo smiled, his tone light but encouraging. “We all have our struggles. It’s part of being human. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. You have friends who care about you, who want you to be happy.”

Shoko gave him a reassuring nod. “And it’s okay to take steps towards finding your own happiness, even if it means confronting difficult feelings. Even if you don’t think it will be reality. You deserve a chance to experience love, just as much as anyone else.”

Nanami took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. “Thank you. It’s good to hear that. I’ve been so focused on the right thing to do that I forgot about what I need.”

Nanami had been immersed in his work that day, focusing on grading papers and preparing for upcoming lectures. He had anticipated a quiet day, free from the usual flurry of students and administrative tasks. It was your day off from school—a rare break for you to focus on your thesis, and he had expected you to be busy with your academic responsibilities.

Yet, as the hours ticked by, Nanami couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He had noticed a subtle change in your demeanor over the past week, an undercurrent of sadness that was difficult to ignore. He had hoped you’d find solace in your time away from school, but now, the thought of you potentially seeking him out was unsettling.

When he heard the knock on his office door, he glanced up with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He wasn’t expecting you to be here today, not when you had so much on your plate. The sound of the knock was soft but persistent, and it made him pause, his thoughts drifting from his work to the possibility of seeing you.

You stood outside his office, your heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. The past week had been particularly rough—filled with long nights and overwhelming emotions. The weight of your feelings for Nanami, combined with the challenge of coming to terms with them, had left you feeling both vulnerable and resolute. You had been wrestling with your emotions, trying to find a way to move forward, but it was proving more difficult than you had anticipated.

The hallway was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound that accompanied your thoughts. You had wrestled with the decision to come here, weighing the need for closure against the fear of complicating things further. Yet, the idea of not expressing your feelings and finding some resolution gnawed at you, making it hard to focus on anything else.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to face the uncertainty head-on. You lifted your hand and knocked again, this time with more resolve. The sound echoed through the hallway, signaling your intent to have a conversation that had been on your mind for days.

Inside the office, Nanami’s thoughts were interrupted by the knock. He stood up, smoothing his jacket, and approached the door. When he opened it, he was met with the sight of you standing there, looking both determined and apprehensive.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm despite the surprise and concern he felt.

You looked up at him, a mix of anxiety and resolve in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I know it’s my day off, but… I needed to talk to you.”

Nanami stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter. “Of course. Come in.”

You entered his office, feeling the comforting, yet intimidating, presence of the space that had been a backdrop to many of your interactions. The room was orderly, with neatly arranged papers and a sense of calm that contrasted with the storm of emotions you were feeling.

As you settled into a chair, Nanami took his place behind his desk, his gaze steady and attentive. “What’s on your mind?”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing against your resolve. “I’ve been struggling with my feelings for you. It’s been difficult to process, and I realized that I need some closure. I thought it might help if I talked to you about it.”

Nanami listened, his expression a mix of empathy and sadness. He had been preparing for this conversation, though not in the way he had hoped. The feelings he had tried so hard to suppress now seemed to rise to the surface, as he saw the vulnerability in your eyes.

“It’s not easy to hear.” Nanami said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And it’s even harder to find the right words. I’ve been trying to navigate this situation carefully, but I realize now that you deserve more than just silence.”

You looked up at him, finding his smile to be tinged with a deep sadness that made your heart ache. Nanami crossed his arms, his gaze meeting yours with a weight of unspoken emotions.

“Most of all, my little one….” he continued, his voice steady but filled with a profound melancholy. “You deserve better than an old, unpassionate man like me.”

The words hung in the air between you, a painful truth that cut through the space. His admission, though gentle, was laced with a somber acknowledgment of the reality that had become so clear. It was as if he was trying to shield you from the hurt of unfulfilled expectations while grappling with his own feelings of inadequacy.

You could see the strain in his eyes, the conflict of wanting to comfort you while also maintaining the boundaries he felt were necessary. It was a moment of raw honesty, one that left you with a deep sense of both empathy and sorrow.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Nanami's words settled between you. His gaze remained steady, but there was an undeniable vulnerability in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that had become apparent.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his confession pressing heavily on you. “I didn’t come here expecting an easy answer, or my feelings to be returned, sensei.” you said softly, trying to steady your voice. “I just needed to express what I’ve been feeling and to understand where we stand.”

Nanami nodded, his expression a mixture of relief and sadness. “I appreciate your courage in coming forward. It’s not easy to confront these feelings, especially when the outcome is uncertain.”

There was a pause as you both took a moment to absorb the gravity of the conversation. Nanami leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the desk as if trying to ground himself in the face of his emotions.

“I want you to know that my feelings for you are genuine. Even if they're not what should be. But I also understand that the situation we’re in is far from ideal. It’s not just about what I want but what’s best for you. What you need matters more than what I want.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the tears you had been holding back threatening to spill. “I understand. I really do. It’s just… hard to accept that something so strong and real can’t find a way to work out.”

Nanami’s gaze softened, and he reached out, resting his hand gently on top of yours. The contact was brief but comforting, a silent gesture of support and understanding.

“It’s difficult, and it’s painful. But sometimes, love means making choices that are hard and painful for the sake of someone else’s well–being. Love is letting go, too. And I believe that’s what I need to do now. Because if my love for you is true, then I would let you go. And let you live a life that you deserve, hm?”

You nodded, feeling the sting of his words but also the clarity they brought. “Thank you for being honest with me. I guess I needed to hear this, to understand where we really stand. To…to have closure.”

Nanami offered a sad smile, one that seemed to carry the weight of his own regrets and hopes for you. “I hope you find someone who can truly cherish you for who you are. You deserve someone who can give you the kind of love and support that I might not be able to offer.”

The finality of his words hung in the air, and you could sense the depth of his feelings—both for you and the situation you found yourselves in. As you stood up to leave, you felt a sense of bittersweet closure, a recognition of the reality that had to be faced.

“Take care of yourself, little one.” Nanami said softly as you made your way to the door. ”I hope you'll always be happy."

You offered him a small, grateful smile, a mixture of sadness and appreciation in your eyes. “Thank you, Nanami–sensei. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you stepped out of his office, the weight of the conversation settled heavily on your shoulders. But along with the heaviness, there was also a sense of resolution. You had faced your feelings head-on, and though the outcome wasn’t what you had hoped for, you felt a renewed sense of clarity and a readiness to move forward.

Nanami Kento watched you go, his heart heavy but his mind clear. He hoped, more than anything, that you would find the happiness and love that you deserved, even if it was not with him. He'd have to leave soon. He thinks that it would be better, if he keeps his distance from now on. You do not need him anymore. And that's for the best.

And as the door closed behind you, he allowed himself a moment of reflection, grappling with the bittersweet nature of his own emotions and the hope that, in time, both of you would find a path that led to fulfillment and peace.

187 notes · View notes

imtryingbuck · 10 months ago

Text

Eighteen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 5,786

Warnings: fluff, angst, heavy use of pet names. eating humans (doesn’t happen obviously and it’s only said as a joke) mentions of cheating, mentions of past suicide attempt

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It had been three years since she was last at home, three years at private school and it was amazing for her.

She made friends with two of the girls there Natasha and Wanda, they had introduced themselves to her first and Wanda shyly had asked if Y/n would like to be their friend, she hesitated at first but eventually said yes which brought a huge smile to Wanda’s face and a shy smile to Nat’s.

They accepted her with open arms and Nat even enjoyed playing in the mud and climbing trees with Y/n. When that fateful day came where they saw her scars she panicked and knew that they wouldn’t want to be her friends anymore but instead of judgemental or looks of horror Wanda burst out crying and pulled her in to a bone crushing hug whilst Nat stood there cursing in Russian. For the first time since James she opened up to what had happened to her.

Not even Steve knew the whole story, especially not Sam. Sam had heard things but chose not to listen; he chose to wait until she had said something herself.

Once she had finished telling them everything she was comforting the two red heads reminding them that she was okay now.

It had felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and for the first time she felt like she could breathe.

If you saw one of the girls the other two was close behind.

Throughout the three years that had passed she had heard about Bucky, Sam and Steve from her parents. The boys had showed up a few days after she had left so James could apologise and when they found out she had gone James started to cry, Steve and Sam too. When she heard about that she wanted to go back home to make up with her boys fighting with herself on whether or not she should but ultimately she decided that she wasn’t going anywhere. James had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t her friend and that he never wanted to be in the first place.

It was a hard decision for her to make but luckily she had Nat and Wanda by her side supporting her.

Now that school was over she was heading back home, she had decided she didn’t want to go to college and after a bit of back and forth with her parents - especially her mom - they agreed to let her do what she wanted to do.

“We’ll see each other in a month Wands don’t cry” she says hugging Wanda who was in fact balling her eyes out.

“A month is so long away an-and what will I do if I’ve forgotten your face or-or your voice?” Ever so dramatically Wanda cried.

“Really? Really Wands it’s four weeks you’re not going to forget anything about me and if you do I’ll have to punch you in the arm”

“Please don’t, but you’re right. I’ll just have to go on living without you my friend, go go leave and don’t look back, I don’t think my heart could take it” Wanda says bringing one hand across her face and the other clutching her chest.

Y/n looks at Nat who stands there with one eyebrow raised “this…this is our best friend”

“I know. Wand why do you have to be so dramatic all the time?”

“Hey I’m not dramatic I’m traumatised!”

Nat and Y/n burst out laughing, shaking their heads at the red head. “Traumatised? Wanda I love you but you my friend are so dramatic”

“I’m trying to be…emotional and romantic well not romantic because even though I love you Y/n I have to admit baby girl you’re not my type”

“Don’t say that-“ Nat says quickly but gets cut off.

“I-I’m not y-your type? H-how dare you!”

“Great just great, look everyone these two weirdo’s are my best friends!” Nat shouts pointing at her friends.

“I have to be honest with myself Y/n/n okay, I can’t keep lying to you it-it’s not fair, I’m sorry” Wanda says in a wobbly voice.

“No, no I understand. I’m just not good enough for you and that’s the truth! Don’t keep lying to yourself Wanda!”

“Guys please stop…” Nat butts in.

“Great you’ve upset our daughter!” Wanda shouts throwing her hands in the air.

“Me? Me? Well guess Wanda she might not even be yours! That’s right I cheated on you with your father!”

“W-what? H-how could you? I loved you”

“But you don’t love me anymore now the truth can be out there!”

“To be fair Wanda could possibly be my dad because we both have red hair…”

“She gets her attitude from you Y/n, how could you do this to us?”

“Us? You’re the one that literally just said I wasn’t your type!”

“Guys please, I don’t want to come from a broken home”

“Oh Natty come here sweetie me and your maybe father was just playing” Y/n says opening her arms for Nat to shuffle into. Wanda then wraps her arms around the pair.

“Well ladies that was a very moving performance if I do say so myself but it’s time for you to break it up and leave” Mr Walters says from the steps leading up to the school.

“Right, sorry sir. Emotional day” Y/n speaks first.

“A lot of truth came out sir, we needed it” Wanda then says.

“Wanda might not be my father sir, I’m so depressed” Nat shrugs.

“I’m…I’m actually traumatised because of you three. Thanks for that.”

“Rude. Well goodbye sir, thanks for being the best teacher ever!” Y/n waves.

“Bye ladies, good luck with everything” he says walking back in to the school, he had to admit that he was going to miss seeing the trio and miss their antics.

“You’re such a teacher’s pet” Nat laughed.

“It’s called respect madam, something you clearly don’t have for your mother!”

“Y/n, baby it’s time to go” Maria interrupts whatever Nat was going to say.

“Coming. Well ladies I guess this is it, it’s been a pleasure knowing you but this is where the curtains close, I bid you adieu.” Y/n bows.

“And I’m called dramatic” rolling her eyes Wanda bows too.

“Alright guess I’ve got to do the same” Nat follows along.

“But no in all seriousness I’m so glad I met you and I’m forever grateful to the pair of you”

“Always Y/n you know this, we’ll always be friends no matter what and we’ll see each other next month” Nat said as she pulls Y/n into a hug.

“I love you both” Wanda says wrapping her arms around her friends.

Pulling away they all smile at each other.

“Last one to their parents cars are a rotten egg in 3…2…1”

They take off running to their parents; Y/n first, Nat second and Wanda third.

“No fair! You guys know I’m terrible at running!” Wanda shouts from her parents’ car.

The drive home was filled with conversations, laughter and catching up. It had been six months since they had seen her in that six months she looked more grown up, more sure of herself, happier.

Maria couldn’t help but smile as her daughter rambled on about what her and her friends had been getting up to. Amazed by how she looked so much like her mama, Maria made it her sole mission to make sure Y/n got a few photographs of her and her mama from the hell hole of a house she grew up in. Maria had kept one for herself it was a photo of Y/n who was roughly three or four years old with her arms wrapped around her mamas neck who had a baby Y/n in her arms as they stood outside a cabin, both smiling widely as the camera captured a beautiful moment between mother and daughter.

It was only after seeing that photograph that Maria understood where Y/n had gotten her crazy unruly hair from, Maria knew that Y/n was blessed to have taken her looks and traits from such a beautiful woman.

Y/n didn’t know that her momma would go to her mamas grave and put fresh flowers down every weekend or how she would sit on the hard ground and speak to the woman she never met before and talk for hours telling her how their daughter was growing, how she was cheeky and caring, how smart she was. Or how just before she would leave the grave where her birth mom laid Maria would place a kiss to her fingers and place them on the headstone and say “thank you my friend” because yes even though she had never met the woman and that she was no longer alive she had become Maria’s friend, and every time she thanked the woman it was for giving her a wonderful gift, Y/n.

“-mom? Momma are you even listening?” Y/n says.

“Oh, sorry darling yes I’m listening”

“No you weren’t but it’s okay I was just saying that Nat had found a rat in her bag and she screamed so loudly it nearly burst my eardrums”

“To be truthful I would have done the same thing” Maria chuckles.

“I know! I had to calm it down because it had gotten scared, I mean well so would I if I had Nat screaming and trying to hit me with a bag” Y/n giggles.

Shaking her head she was so happy that Y/n had Nat and Wanda as friends, they treat her good and were really amazing friends to her daughter. When she met the two red heads she was taken back by watching their dynamic and how well Y/n fit in so perfectly.

“Natasha’s reaction was perfectly justifiable” she points out.

“That’s true but she could have calmed down, I was there and we all know I’m great at talking to animals and calming them down” she smirks.

“Very true angel, listen…please don’t be mad-“

“No…dad you both promised!”

“It wasn’t our idea angel but George’s and Winnie’s, darling they’ve missed you-“

“A party dad? I suck at those things”

“It’s not a party but more like a get together-“

“So a party. Uncle George and Aunt Winnie don’t do “get togethers” dad and you know that”

“Well it’s happening and you’re going to enjoy it, you’re going to smile and have a good time and you’ll thank George and Winnie afterwards” Howard speaks.

“Yes Master”

“Good boy”

“Treat?”

“Not yet”

“Do you want me to give you my paw?”

“Mar our dog talks way too much, I told you we should have gone with a German shepherd and not a Chihuahua”

“Oi I’m not a Chihuahua! If I had to be a dog I probably would be basset hound…”

“Why?”

“They’re so cute and lazy and small”

Howard lets out a booming laugh as he nods, Y/n joins in whilst Maria looks at the driver who’s trying not to laugh “would you be a dear and crash the car for me please?”

“No don’t, I can’t get a treat if I’m dead” Y/n laughs out causing Howard to laugh even louder.

“‘A get together’ yeah alright dad! It’s like the whole world is here” she scoffs.

“Don’t be so dramatic, come on and don’t forget to smile”

Half of the people who had showed up she didn’t even know and the ones she did were either nice to her or people who helped to torment her but doing as her father said she smiled at everyone, saying her thanks when people congratulated her for graduating school.

“My sweetie!” Winnie’s loud voice came from across the garden, Y/n watched at the woman who she’s missed dearly nearly runs over to her.

“Miss Winnie, I’ve missed you!” She wraps her arms around her third mother figure.

“I’ve missed you too my sweet baby, oh look at you! All so grown up and so bloody beautiful, where’s that’s little girl who broke my heart all them years ago gone?”

“I killed her and buried her in the backyard but don’t tell my momma or dada that” she giggled.

“I won’t don’t worry your secrets safe with me” Winnie winked.

“Is-is that…no I don’t believe my eyes. It’s my darling girl!” George shouts ignoring all the looks that get thrown his way as he makes his way over to Y/n and Winnie.

“Hi Mr George”

“Oh my, you’re as beautiful as ever!” He picks her up and spins her around just as he did when she was little “oof and your heavier”

“George!” Winnie scolds.

“What have they been feeding you at that school hey missy?” He asks completely ignoring his wife.

“Humans from all over the world” she winks with a shoulder shrug.

“Are they nice? I’ve been thinking of getting into eating humans”

“Honestly? I recommend that you should, tasty” she laughs, George and Winnie joining in.

“On a serious note though, I’ve missed you darling and I’m so proud of you. And please remember I love you, you’ve always been our daughter too. Oh God I’m so fucking proud of you” George says with tears in his eyes as he remembers the first day he met her, how small and scruffy she was, how scared she look. After what that monster did to her he was scared that she wasn’t going to survive. It’s true though, he and Winnie saw her as their daughter before Howard and Maria adopted her.

“I love you both too and I will forever be indebted to you both”

“Nonsense silly girl” Winnie says.

“Are you trying to steal my daughter away?” Howard laughs as he walks over.

“Obviously, the plan is to knock you and Maria out and I’m going to kidnap this one” George says.

Howard laughs which has George turning to Y/n “he thinks I’m joking, but I’m not”

“Don’t wind him up” she laughs.

She’s oblivious to the conversation that’s happening on the other side of the garden as she laughs with her parents and surrogate parents.

“My sweetie!” He hears his mother call out and he knows instantly that Y/n has arrived as he looks in the direction his mother is making her way over to his breath gets caught in his throat.

His Bunny.

His Bunny all grown up.

His Bunny all grown up and looking just as beautiful as she looked the last time he saw her.

There hasn’t been a single day that’s gone by where he hadn’t regretted this shit that spewed out of his mouth that day. When he found out that she had left it felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and stomped on a million times.

Of course he was never friends with her out of pity, she was easy to talk to, she made him laugh, she was his best friend, his person.

His soulmate as Winnie would say.

But every day he reminded himself that he only had himself to blame.

“I-is that…” Steve questioned with his eyes trained on his best friend who he hasn’t seen in three years.

“Bunny” Bucky nods.

“Holy shit she’s gorgeous” Sam says.

“Yeah she is” Bucky agrees.

“When are you going to talk to her?” Steve asks.

“I’m not. She’s not going to want to talk to me, not after what I said the last time we saw each other”

“That was three years ago Buck, it’s Y/n she’s no doubt forgiven you”

“I doubt it. Steve you have no idea how sad she looked man”

“Bro just go and talk to her” Sam says taking a sip of his beer.

“I-I can’t, are you two going to talk to her?”

“Yeah…well I was going to wait for her reaction with you first before making my way over to her” Steve admits.

“Same if she hits you then I’m staying away but if she doesn’t then yeah of course I’ll talk to her”

“Cheers” Bucky grumbles his eyes refusing to move away from her.

They all watch as she laughs with her parents and Bucky’s, they don’t stop the smile from forming onto their lips as they watch their best friend.

They all carried their own guilt from three years ago and all silently hope that she forgives them for what happened.

“Buck go and talk to her” Steve tries to encourage his friend mainly so he could then talk to her.

“Yeah…yeah I’m going to do it” he puts his drink down on the table before straightening his shirt out.

Just as he was about to take that first step closer to his Bunny he stutters when he sees a tall bulky guy with blonde hair walk up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, watching as she squeals turning around in the guys hold.

He watches as she places her hands on either side of his face and places her lips to his.

He’s pretty certain that he hears his heart breaking.

“Buck…”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“A-are you alright?”

“I’m fine, so she’s got a boyfriend that’s cool” he turns to pick his drink back up and downs it in one gulp. “Do-do you think she’s happy?”

Steve and Sam share a look before answering. “We’re not sure pal”

“I hope she is, t-that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.”

They continue to watch as Y/n introduces the guy to Bucky’s parents and they can tell instantly that Winnie’s smile is fake, she’s always been the one rooting for Y/n and James to get together. The smile on Y/n’s face is as big as it ever was as she stares up at the guy.

“How do you think they met?” Bucky asks.

“God knows, but as long as he treats her right that’s all that matters really.” Sam says eyeing Bucky cautiously.

“I hope so”

As the party winds down the boys not barely moving apart from Sam as he raids the table with all the food on it. They watch as the blonde guy leaves, not without having a make out session with Y/n.

As the guests start leaving Bucky’s quick to notice that Y/n is no longer around and when George stumbles over to the boys he finds out that Y/n’s disappeared and wonders if they had seen her, they all shake their heads.

“I think I might know where she is, hold on”

He makes his way down to the bottom of the garden and climbs over the fence, really hoping he was right.

“Bunny” he whispers when he sees her sitting on the ground in the spot they claimed as theirs, the same spot he first laid eyes on her when he was just seven years old.

“Hi James” she whispers back keeping her back to him.

“C-can I sit next to you?”

“Sure”

For the first time since the two have known each other they sit side by side in uncomfortable silence. It pains the both of them that this is how it’s come down to this.

But unfortunately it had.

“So-um-how are you?” Bucky asked as he stumbled over his words.

“I’m good, what about you?”

“Good, that’s good. I-I’ve missed you Bunny” he admits, his heart squeezing when he sees her flinching.

“Oh”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know why you would have missed me when you didn’t want me to be your friend anymore or ever”

“I didn’t mean it Bun I swear. I was angry an-and I took it out on you, I’ve regretted it ever since”

“Why was you angry? I’m the one that had my back exposed to the whole school and the three people who were my only friends, the only people I trusted more than anything didn’t try and stop it or-or even try and help me. You had no right in being angry James” he hates how she doesn’t raise her voice and hates that she calls him James.

“I know and I’m sorry Y/n I really am”

“It’s okay I guess.”

“No it’s not! None of the shit I said or didn’t do was okay, you’re my best friend Bun and I should have stuck up for you. I shouldn’t have said I chose Dot over you because you always came first no matter what”

“It’s okay because it doesn’t matter anymore, I got over it”

“Over it or over me?”

“Honestly? Both”

Bucky released a choking sob at her admission, she had gotten over him and he didn’t know what to do. “Bun-“

“You shouldn’t call me that James, don’t want to upset your girlfriend”

“I-I don’t have a girlfriend”

“What happened with Dot?”

“She-I walked in on her having sex with Brock”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she said it was a one time thing but he said they’d been at it for months so…”

“I’m sorry, I never liked her”

“Did you even know her?”

“No…what kind of name is Dot anyway?”

“It’s short for Dolores” he laughed.

“Stupid name for a stupid girl. How long were you two dating for?”

“A year, actually walked in on them the day after our one year anniversary”

“That’s cold”

“Yeah. What about you? Lover boy back there” he watches as her cheeks start to turn red and a shy smile on her lips, his heart pounds loudly in his chest at the sight.

“His names Pietro, w-we’ve been dating for five months now”

“How did you two meet?”

“He’s actually my best friends twin brother, we met when her family came up to see Wanda and she introduced us and yeah, he asked me out on a date and then another and another then he asked me out”

“Does he make you happy?”

“He does, well when he’s not talking with his mouth full” she giggled, and for the first time in over three years she looks up at him. Breath gets caught in her throat as he’s looking just as beautiful as he looked the last time she saw him.

“I’m glad, not about the food in mouth when he talks thing but I’m glad he makes you happy”

Not knowing how to reply they fell back into silence but this time it was comfortable.

Y/n was the first one to break the silence “do you know if anyone lives in my old house?”

“No one wanted to move in after…you know”

“Oh. Have you ever been there?”

“Once, I didn’t go in or anything I just stood outside”

“When?”

“A few months after you left. I’m not sure why I did it but” Y/n stood up and held her hand out for James to take and helped him stand, pulling her hand away from his once he was stood up she started to walk in the direction of her old home.

“Come on slow pokes” she called over her shoulder.

“Y/n are you sure about this?”

“My therapist said that it might help me to be able to finally move on”

“You’re in therapy?”

“Yeah, mom said it might help after what I did”

“W-what do you mean?”

“I tried to kill myself” she shrugged.

As she carried on walking she hadn’t realised that Bucky had stopped. She had tried to end her life and no one told him. Bucky had lost her as his friend and nearly lost her in this world completely and no one told him.

“Ducky?”

His heart stopped at that name.

“Duck? Come on we’re not that far now”

“Y-you called me Ducky”

“Well yeah that’s your name isn’t it?” She smirked.

“Bunny please don’t joke about this. You called me Ducky even though we’re not friends anymore”

“You’ll always be Ducky to me James. And who said we’re not friends anymore?”

“We-we aren’t?”

“Nope, we said we’d be friends forever and forever hasn’t ended yet so therefore our friendship is still intact, come”

“B-but what I said”

“It’s in the past”

“Can we go back to being Bunny and Ducky again?”

“Well of course, that’s if you actually did want to be my friend and not just doing it out of pit-“

A loud squeal echoed through the woods as Bucky charged at her picking her up as if she weighed nothing and spun her around. “I never meant what I said Bun never not for one second, please forgive me and I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you”

“Buy me an ice cream and all is forgiven”

Laughing he puts her down slowly and nods “I can do that. Bun”

“Yeah”

“Yo-you tried to kill yourself?”

“Yeah, it was about a year ago”

“Why did you try and do it? Why wasn’t I told?”

“I was in a dark place Duck, remember my special place?-“ she taps the side of her head and watches as he nods “-well it wasn’t special anymore and-well I don’t want to get in to it but it got bad so I wanted to end it”

Rolling her sleeves up she showed Bucky the two angry long scars on her arms, he slowly reached out and gently glided a finger down the scars. “Nat found me in the bathroom and screamed out for Wanda who went and got a teacher, Mr Walters came running and picked me up rushed me to the schools nurse and I was taken to the hospital when an ambulance arrived. My parents were called and I begged them not to tell anyone that included your parents Ducky, they don’t know.”

“Bunny…”

“I’m okay now though, yeah I have bad days still but it’s not as bad as it had been and Dr Cho is incredible, she’s so sweet and she’s never once judged me about anything and she makes me laugh, oh and she always has sweets!”

“I should have been with you Bun, I’m so sorry I let you down”

“Hey none of that! It’s not your fault at all, mental health is a bitch-shit-fuck-please don’t tell momma I swore!”

“You still don’t swear?” Bucky laughs.

“No momma says it’s unladylike”

“You? A lady?” He has to stop walking and bends over with laughter.

“Oh shut up! I could be a lady”

“Never!”

Y/n knows it’s true herself but that was beside the point.

“Shut up. Come on I need your support to get this over and done with”

“I’m coming Bun, are you sure you want me here with you?”

“Always”

The rest of the walk was done in silence and before she realises she’s standing in front on the wired fence surrounding her old home. Looking at Bucky she musters a smile that he knows is fake and presses down on the fence and climbs over.

Waiting for Bucky to do the same she stares at the slowly decaying building that’s haunted her nightmares since she was seven years old. The ivy wraps itself around the house, windows are smashed from either Mother Nature, kids playing in the woods or animals. For some reason the building looks just like it’s supposed to - a building. She feels quite silly for letting it terrorise her dreams now that she’s standing in front of it, it doesn’t seem so scary now.

“Bun, we don’t have to go in if you don’t want to” Bucky’s gentle voice came from next to her.

“No I’ve got to, I’ve got to put the monster to bed once and for all. It’s-it-can we just wait out here for a few minutes, please?”

“Of course Bun. I’m right here”

A few minutes go by and she finally puts one foot out in front of the other, taking slow steps towards the place she once called home a very long time ago now. Her chest starts to feel tighter as she got closer to her nightmare.

Pushing the door open Bucky stepped up first knocking the cobwebs out of the way before moving back to where he was before.

“Thanks” she whispered.

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. She chanted softly to herself as she forced her feet to move forward.

It was weird. As she walked further into the cabin she saw the small dinning table laying on its side, the two chairs broken and the small dingy couch still in the same spot as they were that night her father nearly killed her.

The floorboards creaked under their feet as they moved around the place.

“Th-this is where it happened” she whispers to Bucky as they stand in the middle of the room.

“Bun-“

“That’s my blood Duck” she points to the faded blood stains on the floor.

“Bun-“

“It’s creepy isn’t it? I laid right there and was on my way to play with angels before the cops showed up and now my blood is stained into the wood”

“Bun look at me, come on Bun look at me. Good, it’s okay. It’s all okay”

“I-I know it’s just creepy isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah it is”

“Can I show you my room?”

“Okay”

Walking down the hallway she comes to a stop in front of the first door on the right and she starts to push the wooden door open, both wincing as the hinges squeak.

“Nothings changed in here ah” Y/n moves over to the tiny desk her mama had gotten her she smiles “look…”

“It’s a stick Bun”

“Ah nope it’s not any old stick Ducky, it’s the stick you picked up the second time we met”

“What? Really, you kept it?”

“Of course aha. Hey can you help me move this?”

“Sure”

They move the desk - well Bucky did whilst Y/n stands there and watches - Y/n thanks him before kneeling down on the floor and started to lift up the floorboard smiling in victory when she sees the metal tin her mama had put there when she was five.

“What is it?”

“This, this has my toys that my mama hid so that he wouldn’t break them” she sits with her legs crossed and smiles up at Bucky as he sits across from her.

“Toys?”

“Yeah, but not any old toys Duck, no these are animal toys-look” she groans as she pulls the lid open “this is a giraffe, this is a sheep? no a goat, and an elephant-“ she lists off all the animals in the box as she blindly hands them over to Bucky who’s sitting there with his eyes fixed on her, the way her smile lights up makes his heart tingle, the way she sounds so happy brings a smile to his face. It had been so long since her saw her shine so brightly.

“And here’s a photo of me and mama”

Taking the photo his eyes bounce from the photo to her, it was the first time since he was either eight or nine that he’d seen a photo of his Bunnies mom “you look just like her”

“No, she’s beautiful”

“Exactly.” He smiles when her cheeks start to go red. “Hey do you have anything of your mamas?”

“Just photos” she shrugs.

“Come” he helps her put all the toy animals back in the tin and stands, helping her raise too he takes her hand and asks “is this her room?”

“Yeah why?”

“Let’s see if there’s anything of hers still here so you can have them”

“Duck…”

“It’s okay Bunny” he opens the door instantly shutting it before placing his body in front of the door.

“James?”

“I-I-we can’t go in there Bun”

“I know. Is there still blood?”

“You know?”

“Yeah, that’s the reason why he nearly killed me that night. I tried to find my mama and went into her room and well, yeah”

“Oh Bun”

“It’s okay, I want to go in it might help me feel closer to my mama if I have something of hers”

“Just don’t look at the bed okay baby”

Baby. Her heart shouldn’t stutter the way it did.

“Okay”

Bucky opens the door making his way over to the bed to flip the quilt over so she doesn’t have to see the stains, again.

“She always wore this jumper, I put it on once and tripped over when I tried to walk” she giggles.

“Take it, what about this?” Bucky hold up a long skirt that had patterns on it.

“In the summer she would pull up over her chest so it was like a dress and look it has pockets!”

“Take?”

“Absolutely”

Over the course of twenty minutes Bucky had found a small suitcase and they filled it with all the clothes she wanted to take.

“Bun is this box your mamas?”

“Yeah it’s where her jewels lived.” Laughing when Bucky cocks his eyebrow up “I couldn’t say jewellery so mama said jewels and told me that the box was their home”

“Fair enough, would you like to take it?”

“Okay”

By the time they had finished it was close to being pitch black in the cabin. “Come on Duck its getting too dark to see anything now”

“Okay” as they moved their way through the cabin laughing at each other when the other had bumped into something, getting to the door Bucky stopped “wait a second Bun”

“Duck-“

“Gimme a second Bun”

He goes back inside and she giggles when she hears him say “ow” a few minutes he comes back out smiling whilst holding up the metal tin that housed her toy animals.

“Couldn’t forget this now could we?”

“Y/n? Where the hell have you been?”

“My old house…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah Ducky helped me get things that was my mamas”

“Ducky?” Both sets of parents say in unison.

“Yeah, we’re friends again”

Their dads, Bucky and Y/n all flinch when Maria and Winnie start screaming in joy, hugging each other whilst they jump around in a circle.

“Don’t even think about it George” Howard warns his longest friend as George slinks over to him.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Howie”

“Don’t call me that!”

Bucky takes Y/n’s hand in his and slowly backs up whilst their dads argue.

“That was embarrassing” he laughs.

“It’s cute. Maybe we’ll be like that with our kids one day”

“W-what?” Bucky splutters, cheeks going bright red.

“N-no I mean me and my husband and you with your wife…you know?”

Before Bucky could reply they heard Sam’s voice from the doorway.

“Y/n…”

“Hi Sammy, hi Stevie”

Bucky watches as his three best friends reunite with each other, he has to admit that her comment about kids made his stomach flutter then drop when she mentions about her imaginary husband and his imaginary wife.

For the first time in three years Bucky felt whole once again.

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