#i need this moment burned into my memory
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Harrison Ford and Ke Huy Quan at the 2023 Academy Awards
#no you don't understand#i need this moment burned into my memory#it's honestly adorable#literally squealing#indiana jones#indiana jones and the temple of doom#temple of doom#short round#harrison ford#ke huy quan#everything everywhere all at once#eeaao#waymond wang#oscars#oscars 2023#academy awards 2023#academy awards#steven spielberg#film#acting#harrison tries to give him the oscar#but he's like no the producer#oh my heart#i don't care that they're low quality gifs#this moment means everything to me
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:
She'd rebuild itâwhat she had been.
Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.
Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."
"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.
"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."
"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.
Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.
Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.
At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.
In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.
She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.
Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."
A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.
She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."
Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."
"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."
Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.
"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."
"I do know."
"And?"
"And what do you wish me to say?"
She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. IfâŠ"
"If what?"
"If you wish it wasn't so."
His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"
She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.
It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.
"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."
She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.
"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."
She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."
"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"
"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just âŠ.." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."
"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."
"Then it is her choice, not yours."
Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."
"What did she show you?" A breathless question.
Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have beenâif there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."
She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."
His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"
She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.
Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."
She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.
"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.
"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."
A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requiresâ"
"We'll face it together," he swore again.
"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.
Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."
"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."
She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.
"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."
She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.
She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"
"I thought you might want to be asked first."
"That never stopped you before."
"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.
She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."
He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.
"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."
The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.
"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.
Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.
Together.
#Chapter 41#Kingdom of Ash#Sarah J. Maas#Aelin Galathynius#Rowan Whitethorn#Rowaelin#soulmates#mates#spoilers and notes in tags cause this chapter and also spoilers in post cause this chapter first read react with me read along#Rowaelin chapters scenes moments quotes#they want to make it possible bring that love to light#am I allowed to cry? â Again the word endured â finally the dream â the sand she still sees â heâs magic being steady â them talking time#again if Maeve could convince Rowan Lyria was his mate how bad was it when she convinced Aelin her actual mate was dead⊠this hurts meâŠ#the fact Aelin stopped being useful because it destroyed her beyond belief but the dreams the dreams almost got her because its all she wan#again then both feeling sorry and the other not realizing and then consent and then comfort and love & I just wanted it2be U how could I no#I know you are tired Fireheart (ALL THE TROPES IN ONE LINE⊠UGH I MISSED THIS SHIP)#together. one soul in two bodies. their endgame like literally they are. Iâd choose you too. even the apologies that were needed just heali#what it might have once been â together â not alone â not returning alone â the king and queen of Terrasen â I need u more â 2 whatever end#Aelin watched the boat until it disappeared trying not to stare too long at the clean unstained sand beneath her boots#always north â she didnât care she just wanted far away â who knew â what she knew-the letters she sent-Valg-dark blood that had turned red#If it had been another dreamscape or some fragment that had blended into the very real memory of Connall's death. â always a plab&theory#all these things to deal with later-sheâd rebuild all she had been-her match helper mirror-matched his piercing stare with her own-wait/res#A far cry from a queen's chamber or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin. â how far weâve come-she had ENDURED she can do it#I'm your mate she said needing to voice it. And you are mine. â Lyria. â I do know. and?&what do you wish me to say?-this was perfect#If what? If you wish it wasn't so. His brows narrowed. Why would I ever wish that? â Aelin. she looked at him at the pain in his words#the way it's changed since Mistward... and grown... even in names like Whitethorn Galathynius together â the brain thoughts are back â#The kiss was gentle-light. Letting her decide how to guide it. So she did. â heâd do it all night if that was whatâs he wished#Together we'll find a way their mingling breaths the crashing sea seemed to echo. Together. â mountains and oceans#Mightâve been before-thought snapped-the bond- u r my mate&I am urs-the world might have been burning for all she cared all he cared too#Together they would face this together they would find a way. â claiming him as he claimed her â a scar a marker a tattoo
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Haikaveh and their connection to Nabu Malikata and Deshret
Finally managed to write something down for my beloved Sumeru disasters. Itâs a mess written over the course of 4+ hours, I have no idea if I lost the plot or not. My brain just kept going, and Iâm not sure anymore if Iâm actually putting in more info and explanations, or itâs edited into the text in my mind, but not physically. Iâm deciding that itâs not my problem anymore.
Enjoy this mess of a word salad. Freshly picked and all.
Alhaitham is a character driven to take care of himself first before expanding any energy for someone else, not because he couldnât care less, but because his idealism really is just a more blunt way of establishing boundaries, where to be the most efficient is to take care of his needs first before trying to help others (it does feel like a disconnect between social expectation of âover-politeness = good moral citizenâ, and âstraightforward boundary setting = rude selfishnessâ. Again, different topic for another time). He goes out of his way to help others, even to the possible detriment of himself, because it's the right thing to do, and if anything, Alhaitham very much adheres to deeds that are morally good (he saved Sumeru to keep his peaceful life, sure, but to achieve that everyone needs to have that peace too; he went out of his way to be a bargaining chip in a hostage situation when he really didnât have to do that; he gives books to Paimon and Isak for them to learn from, and even tries to help Collei with giving select reading material for her to have an easier time with choosing a darshan â those arenât the actions of someone who couldnât care less about others or feels contempt at their existence). It is something that he and Kaveh very much have in common, and itâs one of the foundational pieces they mirror â that doesnât mean theyâre opposites / antonyms to each other, but theyâre complimentary approaches from two directions to the same problem that need balance to work.
(And I wanna establish something really quickly here. All the God-Kings had their own idea of what Wisdom was; they had their own ways of conducting it and dealing with knowledge. Even as Nahida says that despite Alhaitham having vast knowledge, pushing others away as lesser for not reaching some ideal of genius is limiting himself and making it harder to reach true Wisdom, I do think this is Nahidaâs type of Wisdom, and Kaveh fits hers specifically. That doesnât necessarily mean he would fit with Nabu Malikata or Deshret, but it is a fun thought to entertain while cleaning dishes, thatâs for sure)
To me for the longest time, Alhaitham has more in common with Nabu Malikata than he had with Deshret. Not in a visual sense (for all we know; the only thing weâre made aware of is that she had horns and was beautiful like all Seelie were), but more in the way he goes about everything.
I think people tend to fall into the preconception that him being calm and deadpan means he doesnât care for anyone or anything. Alhaitham is called lazy and cruel too flippantly by too many people, when in-game him is very much not that (but I suppose that is a different conversation to be had for another time again), which really pushes people away from making any connection between him and NM, because she was revered and perceived as tender and sweet.
The thing with Hoyoâs narrative foil characters in Genshin is that theyâre not meant to be 1:1 perfect copies that deviate because of the Traveler. Itâs not just for plot reasons, but also because itâs an in-game character study and a self-critique of characters and plot development. How much of it is intentional doesnât matter in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes the curtain is blue because the color is neat, other times we can fish out reasons and metaphors; unless weâre directly told what the intention is, we can make all the theories to soothe our love for what the game is giving us.
Nabu Malikata was a being holding immense wisdom, something she carried from her time in the Heavens when she was a Seelie and presumably an envoy. She has a lot of names under her belt, and a benevolent perception for her desire to help and give reprieve to the ones that needed it. Her ability of premonition pushed her to create Simurgh for when the Cataclysm came around (even thought she couldnât see past her own death, so there must have been other ways she knew that would happen, but again, different topic). She tried to bestow wisdom on her companions so they could lead their people safely and not provoke Celestia, but she did very much take a liking to Deshretâs desire to rebel against the Heavens. She did die for more than to just give Deshret a way to gain the knowledge he needed, she also made sure it was a lesson for his ambition and outright recklessness he was willing to undergo for his desires (I do wonder if she knew that it would cause Deshret to lose his mind, maybe she wouldnât have done it this way otherwise; or maybe this had to happen so that someone further down the line, when neither of them lived anymore, would take up where they left off and actually do it right â a necessary sacrifice, so to speak).
What is most likely NMâs quote in Amethyst Crown artifact, this excerpt is fun to think about: âBut âeternityâ is ultimately a lie. Intoxication and love could only grind memories down to broken dreams.â
Alhaitham is a very much in-the-present type of character. Lingering on the past ceaselessly wonât make the future better, and neither is running up ahead make the past less prone for regrets. Him being a rational person doesnât mean he doesnât take into account either past or future, but he knows that chasing either wonât solve anything. He has a very hands-on approach for external problems, and a delicate slower untangling of his inner workings; he tries to better himself from his past mistakes, but he wonât limit himself for a future what-if. NM had a lot of longing for the past, but went head-first into helping Deshret once his ambition started to sound good to her.
If anything, Alhaitham is the narrative foil of the two God-Kings that shows their recklessness, their passion and desires, and human brashness. The game keeps showing us how human the gods are, and Alhaitham is a funny mirror to put up to them, cause heâs the storyline deviation, where he is curious, but knows his limits. He helps when needed, guides people for them to find their own truths, but he wants to be just Some Guy. He probably wonât become the next Deshret or another Nabu Malikata, because his goal is a peaceful life, and unless heâs helping others, he wonât go out of his way to chase shadows of ideas that are nebulous in nature.
Then again, it would be a tragic story (or at least a very angst filled plot point) if Alhaitham became the Nabu Malikata of Kavehâs character arc. Because he does have a penchant for demonstration of his ideas, and he is nowhere above being petty to show his point. He has a soft spot for his loved ones, sure, that doesnât mean he wonât be more direct on showing them wrong when he deems it needed. (Really, Alhaitham is more a narrative foil to Kaveh who is a narrative foil to Deshret and Nabu Malikata. It's kinda funny to me how this works.)
Hmm, the longer Iâm putting this into words, the more obvious it seems to me that he is the narrative opposite of them. He shares similarities of visual motifs (Deshret), and the relatonship dynamic NM and Deshret had (itâs interesting how itâs reflected with him and Kaveh). There is just something about Nabu Malikata that reflects in Alhaitham a lot, be it their more passive approach of situations, or them being big supports (or emotional detriments) to their close companions. Itâs hard for me to directly point between their similarities, because it feels too vague to me; I just know that theyâre reflected, but Iâm not sure how to properly explain it so others can see what I mean.
Now the foil part of Deshret is easier to point out. There are a lot of visual motifs that tie Alhaitham to him; from the unique eyes, his best artifact set being Gilded Dreams, the falcoln/hawk/bird of prey symbolisms tied in the design and constellation. Alhaitham is well versed in many types of knowledge circles outside his primary niche (number 1 nerd of all Sumeru fr), and it wouldnât be a shock if he let his curiosity win and toss him into a lot of trouble (if not directly overstepping a cardinal sin, deliberately or not). He has reflections of Deshret hidden in him, but the longer I think about it, Alhaitham truly is Nabu Malikata coded.
Maybe itâs also because Alhaithamâs first story quest has him dismantle a hivemind, and think itâs stupid to do to begin with, you know, something that Deshret tried to do (and kinda succeeded, but probably not how he intended). It really shows that just because some characters rhyme in the story doesnât mean theyâre one and the same.
Now Kaveh on the other hand is very much Deshret coded, and itâs fascinating to me.
Visually Kaveh fits the Deshret-inspired look. From being a visually similar (Liloupar thought the Traveler physically looked a lot like Deshret, and Kaveh also has similarities to the Traveler, so I give myself this leeway, thanks), his earrings just being a miniature of deshretian architecture motifs and colors.
Kavehâs fiery personality could easily fit in too. He has his calm times, his depth, his guilt and self-destructive tendencies to achieve his ideals, but it also is a contrast to his more boisterous and energetic moments, his compassion and passion. He feels for others and tries to help where he can, regardless if it causes more harm to him than not. He holds steadfast to what he believes and refuses to compromise on it, even if he loses everything else in life.
Deshret had a lot of compassion and tried to make people not need gods, elevate them to become independent of divine judgment and law, and be free. He lost his companions, he lost his mind. But he believed he was chasing a good cause, his ideal where no one had to suffer and be separated ever again. He also wasnât willing to compromise on his ideals.
Both Kaveh and Deshret are connected with the sun â Kaveh being the Light of Kshahrewar, and Deshret literally likened to the sun â and both of them had a hand with mechanisms and architecture (Kaveh created Mehrak â his little light â from an old deshretian core, and his darshan is overall more into mechanisms and technology, not just architecture; and Deshret didnât only create the Primal Constructs, but he did try to build his ideal utopia that wouldnât have any âworry, schemes, or slaveryâ, letting little kingdoms and city-states raise up, so really architecture was also related to him in a way).
With all of this, Kaveh falling down a rabbit hole of trying to help others and get into Trouble wouldnât be weird or out of character down the line. Even if he mellowed out a bit after Parade of Providence, he is a firm follower of his ideals, and no matter how bad of an idea it would be, he most likely would jump headfirst into problems if it meant helping solve another problem entirely.
His connection to Nabu Malikata is also pretty obvious. His best artifact set is Flower of Paradise Lost, and him being connected to art makes it easy to connect him to her in that regard too. Of course then there is his constellation, Paradisaea (who could thematically fit both Nabu and Deshret, but shh), especially his c6: Pairidaezaâs Dreams, which is a direct call back to Nabu Malikata and her Orchard of Pairidaeza. It really shows that even if Kaveh has a lot in common with Deshret, NMâs dreams are more in direct reflection with Kavehâs, who tries to make a lasting memory of himself even when heâs long gone, and to keep beauty in the world (a reoccuring theme with Nabu Malikata is the flourishing and dying of flowers, their endless cycle of life and death and rebirth; in the artifact Wilting Feast that could be linked to Kavehâs vision story: âDreams will always dissolve, their landscapes fated to collapse â this is the true meaning of the blooming flowers. Only by suffering through the destruction of a godâs delusions can humanity learn to rise against divine willâŠâ, it connects the rise and fall of something precious, knowing that there will come a new one after that).
Well, Iâm losing the plot now.
I wanted to dabble into some gods that connect to them from irl (Amun-Ra, Osiris, Thoth, Maâat..) and that became a mess even to conceptualize for this, especially since it made me slip into dissecting Sumeru as a whole, and thatâs a lot. I love myself, Iâm not gonna do that at 4.50am, thanks.
Could Iâve been more detailed and explore it better? Yes. But I struggle with my head lately, and Iâm teetering on the edge of madness, I should stop while it still makes a lick of sense. I might eventually revisit this and expand when I have the mental space, because this is fun and can go more detailed (read: unhinged), the potential is all there.
#haikaveh#alhaitham#kaveh#sumeru god kings#long post#i'm not re-rereading this so if the grammar sucks in places i'm really sorry but i'm not dealing with it anymore#i wanted to go in more detail but i wanna avoid burning myself out like a candle so this is the best it will be at this moment#also reading the artifact sets is so fun (especially gilded dreams and paradise lost) the story told there is so much more comprehensible#at least if i put it up to deepwood memories (granted that is more of a collection of...memories instead of one story. so yeah)#maybe this will make me feel better later and i'll finally write down my mad rambling about seelie#someone needs to take the tags away from me i'll never shut up otherwise
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yeah. Man. I'm just sitting here remembering I've been doing this my entire life. I feel like there was a patch I wasn't, part of the teen years, and that's either I've forgotten because trauma orrrr something else but
No wonder I've never felt anchored on this plane. But it doesn't matter, well, no, it matters a lot, but this life is just constantly isolating in how it works so I will keep the talk of not fitting in here and what being weirdly one got in one foot out has done to talking to myself lmfao but... I remember. I remember being in the garden as a really young child and I'm not a young child. I'm this chimaeric fairy-type thing of swirling and bulging colours like a psychedelic faceted-insect-eye's led trip, four or more wings of different types that are again, so ungrounded, so psychedelic, vivid. Not uncertain. Not half-formed. Fully formed, the starbeing in me just barely contained in the shape of the human-pretending-to-be-a-fae it's pretending to be
I remember so much, actually, and it's. it's just weirdly melancholic....? Maybe not melancholic, but it's so sad and I don't know why. Actually. I mean I've been trying to piece it together for like twenty minutes now but... People get a little irritated at me for being very "you don't understand and no one sees me" but like. I have lived an entire life walkinv streets where no one sees me. It's very complicated, there's. mental health stuff in there because of course I've come across a lot of spirits but I have bad issues seeing people as real but like. Man yeah no I am a snail and one part of me can be physically seen but the other has always been on the other side
#There's a lot to this that I just don't want to get into because it's no ones business irt mental health issues influencing#isolation and then trauma and stuff. It's not a matter of ''I was involved in astral stuff and no one else in the world Ever has been''#lmfao like it's just that. Astral self is still me and man. Idk. Realising these past few years constantly the Trauma(tm)#And it makes so many physical events now make sense where like I felt like I could (do astral stuff) and#Man. It's just. There's so much melancholic distance in these astral memories kept behing the Mask Face expression#it really is like. you ever have to leave someone at a bus stop or airport and you're not sure you'll ever see them again#It's this weird heavy and distinct feeling looking at myself like this astral body is a family dog I've just left in#Ă forest at night and I'm driving away from them and they just know. It's not like Tears Flowing sad it's this. the entire form#just swallows existence. It just is eternally falling away from the world and swallowing it as it goes#It's not a dog left at the roadside its the goddamn ghost of one left years ago. You see it and you aren't sad about leaving your#dog you're like wow. That dogs still here. I don't know what to do. It's image is burned into my retina. It's looking at me#I can see it getting further away in the rear view mirror and no one would ever believe me I'm seeing a ghost so this moment#is etched into my mind now. Except. The memory fades anyway when you look away. It's so like....... It's not even sad#It's just a ghost. I was worried about connecting astral and physical bodies and starting this journey to projection#fully consciously because I knew there'd be a lot of Trauma but this isn't even trauma it's just... My god. I've existed my#entire life as a ghost. like. /ghost/ ghost. Ghost. haunting my own existence. And it's again not just sad it's this weird...#I feel like I've only ever been able to exist off this plane. I exist in this liminal state I exist most freely when unwanted#Not because I need to be unwanted but because what I am freaks people out#Yeah that. vision. that vision of my astral form in this weird obscure unplaceable large animal with a blurred#mask like face in the headlights or tail lights of a car - it's hard to know because it warps reality. I don't know what direction#I'm travelling. I don't know what this thing is. but it's on this forest-flanked road in these lights and it's looking and#there's no one around that can elucdiate the situation and............. Yeah. Man. Yeah.#ramblings //#Astral body //#Astral diary //
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#me personal#somethings wrong#i cant stand the thought of food without wanting to throuw up#but i'm so hungry#so i go to get food#but the moment i see food i need the toilet#i don't underand why#i have so much to do i dont' have time for this#but my body has seriously decdied to be a little bitch these past few weeks#i have way too many things going on#but my body like the french have decided to riot#i'm sick my wisdom teeth are coming in at the worst possible angle#my gums are swollen#i can't slep but im constnatly tired#i want to chew someones head off i want a hug from my mom#im hungry i cant eat i'm freszing on the outside and burning up on the indside#my roommates have no understanding of cleanliness and i want to take a pickaxe to their torsos an dhack thme in half#alsoi think i;m hallucinating and possibly losing chunks of memories#i need mental help probablly but its going to have to wait#sigh
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
I've got the gif-making bug for the first time in like a year and I'm just starting 2 weeks off work so this is the perfect time to jump back into it but idk where to start. I'm deffo doing something 911 cos that's where my entire brain is (yes I have spent most of today in bed reading buddie fic even though I swore I wasn't going to get obsessed this time).
I feel like any idea I have has probably already been done a thousand times, I need to get past that feeling cos like. Yeah bitch that's how fandom works.
#i might just start doing all buddie moments episode by episode to start. i like having a plan & i miss posting regularly.#plus I've burned out a bit on playing WoW so i have more freetime at the moment.#and it will line up well with my S2 rewatch#the muscle memory came straight back when i made the 911 ones the other night. i just need some creativity
0 notes
Text
I still get a little lost in my feelings about you. I still wonder that if you were upset with me why did you bring your hands to my face that day. why did you untuck my hoodie from behind my ears so gently in front of all your friends before I left, smiling saying whatâs this? causing me to remember I left my headphones and almost forgetting them, and you laughing, saying oh thatâs why. I still think about it because itâs the last time I got to see you. Before I utterly destroyed everything. I canât forget the way you looked at me, the way you would smile at me, and the way you touched me. I wish I could fix things but I donât know how anymore. Iâm just sorry we didnât meet when I wasnât such a mess.
#the night we met I felt like afterwards I was floating#i saw you in my dream and thought i heard you call me#i woke up saying your name even though i had just met you the night before#everyone thought it was sudden#but you came right when i needed to find you i think#i still get chills when i remember you tracing my back#and i almost burst into tears when i remember the way we slept that night#so safe so sound so hot both of our bodies burning with desire but still we didnât touch each other perversely#you were so careful not to touch me in the wrong way#it made me cry#i wanted to leave in the middle of the night#I didnât#i got back under the covers and into your arms and you held me so close with your hand hugging my head#in that moment i was so afraid and so in love i tried to move because i thought maybe i should run away#but you stiffened protectively and held me in your sleep like you didnât want to let go of me and it melted everything in me#i think itâs enough to have loved once#i think the memory is finally enough for me#but i miss you and i hope you figure things out even if itâs not with me#because u deserve everything#u deserve more than you think you do#ÙکۧÙۧ۳#saara rambles#personal
0 notes
Text
so true..... the venn diagram of love and grief is a circle
#'cause i know if i'm doing my job correct / nights like these will happen less'#sometimes loving is about realizing it'll end#and then realizing you are witnessing the moments that will be burned into your memory forever#and holding on as tight as you can#on the slippery velvet of time#to no avail#this song KILLS me. i am not a father (not that attached to my own) but damn. damn#joe jonas i need you to marry jon bellion RIGHT FUCKING NOW#Spotify
0 notes
Text
All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]
Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.
Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby
----
You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmateâsomeone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something youâve always dreamed of.Â
But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.
Everyone, except for you.
Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.
And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.
Logan Howlett.
You canât remember a time where you didnât feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.
You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people whoâve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasnât yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.
Jean Grey.
She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you werenât. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be togetherâthe stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart.Â
You remember the day it happened so vividly, itâs almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew youâd lost him.
It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldnât deny they seemed perfect for each otherâjust as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.
Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it.Â
The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory.Â
Logan was never the same after that.
 â
You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. Itâs been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.
As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallwayâa low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you arenât needed. Itâs all so routine now.
Lost in your reverie, you donât notice the figure walking toward you until itâs too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.
âOh, sorryââ you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.
Itâs Logan.
Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him inâthe man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like heâs been through hell and back.Â
You hadnât seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a missionâanything to stay distracted.Â
But now, looking at him, thereâs something different off. Something you canât quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe itâs the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe itâsâoh.
Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below youâno longer a mural of greyâradiates colors you canât name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-
You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but heâs already turned, walking away from you.
âGive me a fuckinâ break.â
----
Brown. Loganâs hair is brown.
After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.
You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Loganâs hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.
Brown.
You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.
Why him? Why me? Why now?
You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You canât stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.
The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. Itâs like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.
Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. Youâre in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansionâs grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.
It doesnât make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You donât want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you canât just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life.Â
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.
Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasnât noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didnât want to talk to you then, and he probably doesnât want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward.Â
The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours.Â
âWhy are you here?â he asks accusingly.
You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that heâs in front of you, you are at a loss of words.
Loganâs eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. âYou shouldnât be here.â
âI needed air,â you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. âI just needed to clear my head.â
âWell, find somewhere else to do it,â he snaps, âI donât want company.â
âLogan, Iââ
âDonât,â he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. âDonât start. I know what youâre gonna say, and I donât want to hear it.â
You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. âWhat are you talking about?â
He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. âYou think I donât know whatâs going on? God, I⊠this is all so fucking stupid.â
Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. âI wasnâtââ
âEnough!â he barks, his voice echoing in the night. âIâm not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, itâs not real. Itâs just some stupid trick of the universe, and Iâm not playing along.â
His words hit you like a physical blow - like youâve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. âI donât understand. I didnât mean for any of thisââ
âYeah, well, neither did I,â he snaps at you, âAnd Iâm not gonna sit here and pretend like thereâs something here,â he gestures between you two, âwhen there isnât. Youâre not mine, and Iâm sure as hell not yours.â
The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, heâs not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over.Â
After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, âOkay,â you whisper. âI understand.â
Loganâs expression doesnât soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.
âGood. Then stay away from me.â
You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much heâs hurt you.
âIâm sorry,â you murmur, barely audible. âI didnât mean to make things worse for you.â
He doesnât respond, doesnât even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.
You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.
â
When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word heâd thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. Itâs causes pain unlike anything youâve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.
If he doesnât want you in his life, youâll accept that. You have to - itâs not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street. Â
You canât force him to feel something he doesnât, canât make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, donât you? You canât even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another?Â
Youâll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you werenâtânoâyouâre still not sure heâll ever be whole again.Â
And youâwhere do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?
â
Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadnât. You knew you werenât on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.
His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when youâre in his vicinity. Heâs leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. Itâs as if youâve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. Thereâs only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: donât tell anyone.Â
Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction.Â
It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you donât care.
But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everythingâdespite the rejection, the coldness, the angerâyou still love him.Â
And thatâs the cruelest twist of all.
So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as youâve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and youâll be able to move on.
â
The only person you tell is Charles.
âWhatâs on your mind, my child?â he asks one day, while youâre sweeping the dust in his office.Â
You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know heâs just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldnât even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you donât yield to his probing.
âNothing, really,â you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesnât reach your eyes. âJust⊠tired, I guess.â
Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade youâre trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does.Â
âIâm here to help, whatever the burden.â
You want to groan. Itâs not like heâs doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like heâs trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered.Â
âI know, Professor. But⊠itâs nothing you need to worry about.â
âYou forget, I worry about all of you,â he replies gently. âItâs in my nature.â
The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. âItâs just⊠complicated.â
âComplicated doesnât mean you have to face it alone.â
You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering youâre in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?
âItâs just⊠I donât know how to make sense of it, Professor,â you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. âEverythingâs so⊠wrong.â
He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. âWrong how?â
Knowing that youâre teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts.Â
âLogan⊠he⊠we⊠Itâs not supposed to be like this, is it?â you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know heâd get the gist.Â
Understanding dawns in Charlesâs eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth youâre struggling to voice. âThe bond you share⊠itâs more than you expected, isnât it?â
You nod, feeling the tears well up again. âBut he doesnât want it. He doesnât want me.â
The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like youâre a lost puppy. âLogan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and itâs not surprising that he would resist this new connection.â
âSo why me?â you ask. âWhy bind me to someone who will never love me?â
Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, âI wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether itâs meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important⊠that remains to be seen.â
âIt feels like a punishment,â you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it. âEvery day, it hurts more. And he wonât even look at me. I donât know how to make it stop.â
âThe heartache youâre feeling is profound, but you must understand that itâs not your fault. Loganâs reaction isnât a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.â
He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.
âTo love, even when itâs not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.â
So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourselfâto try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.
The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. Itâs like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.
Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purposeâthey all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.
The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights.Â
You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. Itâs not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.
Youâre healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your lifeâof your emotions.Â
But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.
One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.
However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights.Â
His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.
âSorry,â you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.
Logan doesnât say anything, barely noddingâif you could even it thatâ before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react.Â
Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. Itâs been so long since youâve been this close to himâso long since youâve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this.Â
Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care?Â
Because you are the only one who does care.
You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but itâs a challenge. Your hands are trembling.
â
It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. Youâre supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambitâs anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didnât take no for an answer.Â
Thatâs how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan.Â
Heâs across from you. Just your luck.
He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while itâs been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you canât help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown.Â
Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, thatâs when you slip up.Â
âI love how you blended the red with the blue!â You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. Youâre too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.
Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. âDarling, I thought you couldnât see colour?â
In any other situation, youâre sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Loganâs eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare youâve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest
âIâŠâ you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.
Rogueâs confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression thatâs impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak.Â
Loganâs gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.
The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you.Â
You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But itâs no use. The emotions youâve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall.Â
âI think I need a moment,â you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.
Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You canât even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.
Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. Youâre heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man whoâs mourning the loss of a soulmate?Â
Itâs not fair.
You donât know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.
âMind if I join you?â he asks gently.
You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench.Â
âIâm sorry,â you croak, âI didnât mean to ruin the night.â
Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. âYou didnât ruin anything. Itâs clear youâve been carrying this burden for a long time. Itâs no wonder it slipped out tonight.â
âSo everyone knows now?â you ask. He nods.
âIt wasnât hard to put two and two together,â he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.
âI just⊠I didnât want anyone to know. I didnât want to be pitied.â
âPity isnât what anyone feels right now,â Scott says softly. âWeâre worried about you. Youâve been hurting, and we didnât see it. Thatâs on us.â
âItâs not your fault,â you bring your hands down from your face. âIâve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but⊠clearly I was wrongâ
With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. âI know what youâre going through, more than you might realize.â
You glance at him, surprised by his words. âYou do?â
He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. âI was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates⊠it tore me apart. I didnât think Iâd ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldnât.â
The mention of Jeanâs name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but thereâs also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. âHow did you⊠how did you get through it?â
He sighs, âIt wasnât easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.â
You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. âIâve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.â
He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. âIf thatâs what you need to do, I understand,â he says, âsometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.â
Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. âI donât know if heâll even listen to me. Heâs made it pretty clear how he feels.â
âHeâs hurting too,â He decides, âHeâs not handling it well, but that doesnât mean he doesnât care. You both need closure, and running away wonât give you that.â
âWhat if it just makes things worse?â
âIt might.â Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. âBut it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.â
You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. âIâll⊠Iâll think about it.â
âTake the time you need,â he says. âWeâre all here for you.â
âThanks, Scott. That means a lot.â You offer him a small, grateful smile.
With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, thereâs also the thought of confronting Loganâof finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.
You really donât want to do it, and youâre pretty sure itâs just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scottâs words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.
Goddamn it.
You huff as you stand up from where youâre seated. You canât keep running from this, canât keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.
Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly youâre sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. Thereâs no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock.Â
Thereâs a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like heâs done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.
The moment he realizes itâs you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, youâre not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.
âCâmon, Logan,â you press. âYou know we need to talk.â
He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesnât look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesnât push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.
Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. Itâs a reluctant invitation, but itâs all you need.
âFine,â he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. âTalk.â
You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if heâs ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. Itâs suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when heâs standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance heâs placed between is right in your face.
âWhy did you come?â Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.
âBecause we canât keep pretending this isnât happening,â you reply, âWe need to talk about whatâs going on between us.â
His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. âThereâs nothing to say,â he says bitterly. âI told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.â
âItâs not enough!â you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. âYou think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesnât exist, and thatâs supposed to solve everything? It doesnât work like that, Logan.â
He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. âWell what do you want me to say?â he demands, his voice rising. âThat Iâm sorry? That I didnât mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didnât. But that doesnât change the fact that I canât be what you want me to be.â
His words hurt.Â
âI know you told me how you feel,â you start, âbut youâve never let me tell you how I feel. Youâve never given me the chance to say that itâs been tearing me apart.â
A flash of guilt. âI didnât think⊠I didnât think you needed to say it. I already knew.â
âThat isnât fair,â you argue.
âYou donât understand,â he counters, âI lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now⊠now Iâm supposed to just⊠move on? With you? Itâs not that simple.â
âI never asked you to love me, Logan,â you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. âI never pushed for anything more than friendshipâitâs not like you gave me the chance! Youâve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like Iâm nothing more than a burden, like I donât even matter!â
You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesnât apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. âIâm trying to protect you,â he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him
âProtect me?â you echo incredulously. âAll youâre doing is make me feel like shit. Like Iâm worthless. I canât even be your friend, to help you through this.â
You pause. âYou expect us all to know how youâre feeling, but you canât even communicate it.â
Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment youâve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.
âI canât be what you want me to be,â he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. âI donât know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like⊠I canât let anyone in.â
Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but thereâs also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection.Â
âYou havenât even tried,â you say softly with a quiet resignation, âYou havenât even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.â
What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But thereâs no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that heâs not going to take that step, too broken to try.
Thatâs when it really hits you.Â
Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start.Â
You give up.
This time, it is you who turns your back on him.Â
âGoodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.â
You donât wait for a response. You donât glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.
âÂ
You decide to go on the mission.
Itâs nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief.Â
The lack of immediate danger doesnât make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.
Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They donât ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, youâre grateful.
âI still think youâre crazy for going solo,â Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. âBut if anyone can handle it, itâs you.â
You manage a small smile in return. âThanks, Rogue. I just need some timeâŠâ
Kitty, whoâs been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze. âWe get it. Just promise youâll keep in touch, okay? And donât hesitate to call if you need backup.â
âI promise,â you assure.
She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small deviceâthe X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out.Â
âHere,â she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. âThis is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you donât need anything, just⊠let us know youâre okay, alright?â
You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kittyâs gaze.Â
âAlright, Iâll check in regularly. I wonât leave you guys in the dark.â
Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. âYouâve got this,â she says, âAnd weâve got your back, even from a distance.â You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express.Â
It almost feels like a walk of shameâleaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you wonât let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport.Â
â
When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athensâthey all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.
The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.
You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know youâre safe and on track. You donât share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.
Then, in a small cafĂ© in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. Heâs a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. Heâs warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.
He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You donât tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, youâre just another traveler, searching for somethingâthough he doesnât pry into what that something is.
As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and itâs nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesnât know about your past, about the things youâre running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You donât talk about the mission, and you certainly donât talk about Logan.
One evening, as youâre both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. âSo, where are you off to next?â
You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. âIâm heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.â
His eyes light up. âFlorence? Iâve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?â
A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance youâve carefully maintained, but another partâthe part thatâs been lonely for so longânods in agreement. âSure, why not?â
â
Back at the mansion, things havenât been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but thereâs a noticeable shiftâa missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if thatâs possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.
His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. Heâs always been rough around the edges, but now, itâs like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, heâs reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if heâs trying to outrun somethingâor someone.Â
In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansionâs gym, trying to work off the restless energy thatâs been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he canât seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.
This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesnât need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other manâs presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesnât slow his punches, doesnât acknowledge Scottâs presence, but he knows why heâs here. Theyâve had this conversation beforeâor something like itâbut nothingâs changed. Nothingâs gotten better.
Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Heâs been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but heâs kept his distance, knowing that heâd only be pushed away. But this canât go onâLogan canât keep doing this, canât keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.
âShe wouldnât want this,â he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Loganâs fists against the bag.
Loganâs movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. âWho?â he growls, not bothering to turn around. âHer or Jean?â
Scott doesnât flinch at the harshness in the other manâs tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, âBoth.â
Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scottâs words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesnât want to hear this, doesnât want to be reminded of what heâs lostâof who heâs lost.Â
Taking a step closer, Scottâs voice is firm. âLook, Iâm not a spiritual person. But I also donât think the universe messed up with this.â
Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesnât want to acknowledge it. Doesnât want to think about what could have been, what heâs been too scared to even consider.
âI know you know how I felt about Jean,â Scott says quietly, knowing heâs breaching a sensitive subject. âLosing her⊠it killed me too. And if I had been given a chanceâa real chance to be with her, to make things rightâI would have taken it. No hesitation.â
Loganâs breath hitches at that. The truth is, heâs been runningârunning from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real.Â
âIâm not saying you should chase after her,â he continues. âBut I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesnât just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.â
The weight of Scottâs words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is rightâdeep down, heâs always known. But that doesnât make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jeanâitâs all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back.Â
Thereâs something else too, something heâs been trying to ignore but canât any longer: the way he feels about you, the way heâs always felt, even if he couldnât admit it to himself. One of the first thoughtâs that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.
Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. âJust think about it,â he says softly. âThink about what you really want. And donât wait until itâs too late to figure it out.â
Logan doesnât respond, but Scott doesnât need him to. Heâs said what he needed to say, and now itâs up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.
The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he canât keep doing thisâcanât keep tearing himself apart over something he canât change, something heâs too afraid to confront.
But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldnât want him to throw away.
With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesnât have all the answersâhell, he barely knows where to startâbut he knows one thing for sure: he's canât run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.
â
Youâve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. Youâve grown to trust him. Heâs never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants.Â
But thereâs always been a small, nagging doubt that youâve pushed asideâa feeling that something isnât quite right. Youâve ignored it, convincing yourself that youâre just being paranoid after everything youâve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.
It isnât until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. Youâre walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.
âI found this place the last time I was here,â Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. âItâs a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. Youâll love it.â
You hesitate, something in his toneâor maybe itâs the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightlyâsets off alarm bells in your mind. Youâve come to trust him though, havenât you? Youâve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldnât lead you into danger.
Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and thatâs when you see itâthe change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.
Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.
Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. âDid you really think I didnât know?â he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. âYouâre a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?â
The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. âWhat⊠why?â you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.
âWhy?â He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. âBecause mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for⊠research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.â
You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. Youâre weak.Â
âYou wonât get away with this,â you say.
âOh, but I already have,â he replies with cruel satisfaction. âNo one knows where you are. And even if they did, itâll be too late by the time they find you.â
With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.
You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold.Â
Location: Florence.Â
Message: Help.
Just as you hit send, Marco notices what youâre doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. âYou littleâ!â he snarls, but itâs too late. The message has already been sent.
His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. âYou think youâre so clever, donât you? But it doesnât matter. Theyâll never get here in time.â
Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. âYou wonât win,â you whisper with the last of your energy.
Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. âWeâll see about that,â he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you.Â
You can only hope theyâthat Loganâwill reach you in time.
â
The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room, and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kittyâs pocket. Itâs the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device.Â
Loganâs head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. Heâs on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. âWhat the hell was that?â he demands, his voice tense with urgency.
Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message thatâs flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. âItâs from her⊠Florence⊠Help.â
Thereâs a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement.Â
Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. âIâm going,â he growls, already heading for the door.
âLogan, wait!â Scott steps forward, blocking Loganâs path with a firm hand on his chest.Â
âGet out of my way, Summers,â He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. âIâm not waiting around while sheâs in danger.â
âWe canât just rush in without a plan,â Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. âWe need to know what weâre dealing with.â
Logan shoves the other mutantâs hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. âShe sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and weâre wasting time standing here talking about it!â
The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Loganâs been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situationâof youâ has pushed him to the brink.Â
âLogan,â Ororo interjects, âWe understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trapââ
âI donât give a damn if itâs a trap!â He snaps, his voice rising. âSheâs part of our team! We canât just leave her there!â
âThatâs not what weâre saying,â Scott tries to reason, but Logan isnât having it.
âThen what the hell are you sayinâ?â He demands, his frustration boiling over. âWhy are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?â
Thereâs a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then itâs Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. âLogan⊠what if⊠what if she doesnât want to see you?â
He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. âWhat the fuck are you talking about?â he growls.
Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. âShe left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two⊠they werenât good. Maybe sheâmaybe she doesnât want you to be the one to save her.â
Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. âFuck that!â he roars with a fierce, protective rage. âSheâs part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I donât care whatâs happened between us, Iâm not leavinâ her there!â
The room falls silent, the weight of Loganâs words settling over everyone. They know Logan is rightâsheâs part of the team, and they canât leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.
Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. âWeâre not saying we shouldnât go after her, Logan. Weâre saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.â
âI donât care,â he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. âIâm going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, Iâm not lettinâ her go through this alone.â
Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. âAlright. But we do this together, as a team.â
Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. âFine. Letâs go.â
â
Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. Youâre in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like itâs filled with cotton, and thereâs a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that youâre restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they donât budge.
And then you see himâMarco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that youâve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game heâs been playing.
âAh, youâre awake,â he says, voice dripping with mock concern. âI was starting to wonder if Iâd given you too much of the sedative. But it seems youâre tougher than I thought.â
You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.
He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. âOh, donât bother trying to speak. We wouldnât want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, Iâm impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.â
He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. âYou know, Iâve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but thereâs something special about you. Something⊠unique.â He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. âToo bad your powers wonât do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.â
Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.
âSuch fire in your eyes,â Marco murmurs, almost to himself. âItâs a shame youâll never see the light of day again. But donât worryâIâll make sure your abilities are put to good use.â
He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. âNow, letâs see what we can do to make you a little more⊠compliant.â
Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.
The X-Men have arrived.
Marcoâs eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. âStop them! Donât let them get near her!â
The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but theyâre no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your earsâRogueâs powerful punches, Scottâs optic blasts, and Stormâs lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but itâs no use.Â
Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. Heâs fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. Heâs coming for you.
But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You canât hear what heâs thinking, but you can see the conflict on his faceâthe way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize heâs unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you donât want him to.
In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesnât waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. âWeâve got you, sugah,â she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. âYouâre safe now.â
You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. Youâre shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but youâre free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.
Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving.Â
And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze.Â
â
Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchangedâstill the safe haven youâve always known.
But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. Youâve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.
Except, thereâs one person you havenât seen. Logan.
His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. Youâve felt his presence in the mansionâheard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboardsâbut heâs kept his distance. He hasnât sought you out, hasnât tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.
Youâve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. Youâve reminded yourself over and over that you donât need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you canât help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.
More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.
Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts youâve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Loganâs hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didnât come for you.
Youâre so lost in your thoughts that you donât notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.
âIâm glad youâre alright.â
The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if heâs not sure how youâll react to his presence. Thereâs a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well.Â
For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. Heâs as rugged and intimidating as ever, but thereâs something different in his eyesâsomething a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question thatâs been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you canât keep it inside any longer.
âWhat happened?â you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. âIn Florence?â
His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesnât answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words.Â
You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but thereâs a part of you thatâs already bracing for disappointment. Youâve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And youâre tired of it. Youâre tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.
Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. âI⊠I hesitated,â he admits huskily, almost in a growl. âI wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then⊠I didnât know if you wanted me to.â
His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotionsâsurprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadnât expected this, hadnât realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.
âWhy wouldnât I want you to?â you ask softly, searching his face for answers.
Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. âBecause of everything thatâs happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought⊠maybe youâd be better off if it wasnât me.â
You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. âLogan, this canât keep being about what you think is best,â you begin. âAnd itâs not about who saves who. Itâs about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.â
He doesnât have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. Itâs like heâs carrying the weight of everything heâs done, everything heâs failed to do, and itâs crushing him.Â
âIâm sorry,â he finally manages to get out. âFor everything.â
You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.
âI know Iâve messed up,â he continues. âI know I havenât been there for you like I shouldâve. But Iâm here now. And if youâll let me⊠I want to try to make things right.â
You know you should be happyâthis is everything youâve wanted to hear from him for so long. But itâs also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it canât just disappear with a snap of your fingers.
âI donât know if Iâm ready for that,â you admit.Â
Thereâs pain on his face. âI get it,â he says, his voice rough but steady. âI know Iâve got a lot to make up for. And I know itâs not going to happen overnight. But Iâm willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.â
âI need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.â
He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. âTake all the time you need,â he says quietly. âIâm not going anywhere.â
âI appreciate that,â With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. âI need time,â you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.
âAnd youâve got it,â Logan replies. âAs much as you need.â
â
Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know itâs necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. Itâs nice.
But Logan⊠Logan doesnât give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesnât push, doesnât pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasnât forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isnât going anywhere.
It starts with the small thingsâthings so subtle that you almost donât notice at first. You probably wouldnât have suspected anything if you hadnât known the kind of person he is. Heâs nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realizeâthe rift he created after Jeanâs death muddling with your memoryâand he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.
In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where youâd be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know itâs him. Itâs in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of itâjust a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, Iâm thinking of you.
Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, youâre tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesnât approach you, doesnât speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just⊠exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.
Itâs in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Loganâone thatâs patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. Heâs just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.
And then there are the little surprises in your roomâsmall, thoughtful gestures that you canât help but notice. A favorite book youâd mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Loganâs hand. Even your plants, the ones youâd worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.
He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what heâs doing. Itâs all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if heâs afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?
At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures donât change anything, that theyâre just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that heâs just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. Youâve built walls around your heart for a reason, and youâre not ready to let them down just because heâs being nice.
But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isnât just going through the motionsâheâs really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isnât just about the snacks or the books or the plantsâitâs about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.
After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. Thereâs no note, no explanationâthere never isâbut you know who left them.
You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. Itâs such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. Youâd forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowersâyouâd mentioned it once, years ago. The way theyâre resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldnât. Itâs as if heâs telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.
And itâs then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isnât just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.
He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jeanâs death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.
So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. Itâs just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.
But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you donât want him to.
He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesnât say anything at first, doesnât ask why youâre here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. Itâs something youâve come to appreciate about him in recent monthsâhis newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than youâre ready to give.
"Iâve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.
"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if heâs afraid of saying the wrong thing.
You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Youâve been⊠different. Doing all these little things⊠I see them, you know."
Loganâs eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That Iâm sorry," he says, with so much emotion. âYou were never a burden to me.â
You swallow hard. "Itâs hard for me, Logan," you admit, "Iâve been hurt before, and Iâm scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, youâll just⊠break me."
He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "Iâd never hurt you again," he says, "Iâd rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."
Thatâs enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That heâs willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.
And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, youâre ready to let him.
You donât say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he canât believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.
The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isnât just a kissâitâs a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "Iâm still scared," you whisper.
"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But Iâm here, and Iâm not going anywhere. Weâll take this slow, darlinâ. Whatever you need."
You nod. "Okay."
Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasnât in years. Itâs a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of loveâa smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much youâre giving him by letting him back into your heart.
â
The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his wordâhe is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadnât expected. The small gestures continueâcoffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.
You can feel the doubts youâve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. Itâs in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. Itâs in the way he looks at youânot with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.
With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because thatâs what he thought he had to do.
With you, he has a choice. He doesnât need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and heâll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.
One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansionâs porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush.Â
âYouâve been quiet today,â he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.
âIâve just been thinking,â you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. Itâs a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far youâve come in trusting him again.
ââBout what?â he asks, his voice gentle.
âAbout us,â you say, your voice steady. âAbout how things have changed. How⊠how good theyâve been.â
Loganâs hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. âYeah?â
âYeah,â you echo, squeezing his hand. âIâm not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.â
He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. âYou sure?â
You nod, smiling softly. âIâm sure. Youâve shown me that this bond means something to you, that youâre not going to hurt me. And⊠I want this. I want us.â
Loganâs face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. âIâm glad, darlinâ. Because I want us too. More than anything.â
â
It isnât long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, itâs subtleâsmall things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when youâre around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.
During a training session in the Danger Room, youâre paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on youâmaking sure youâre safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. Itâs a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.
After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.
âWhat?â you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.
Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. âNothing, just⊠noticing how good you two are together.â
Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. âYeah, itâs⊠different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.â
Logan shrugs, but thereâs no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. âWhatâre you guys talking about?â
âJust that itâs nice to see you happy, Logan,â Ororo says gently. âReally happy.â
Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. âYeah. It is.â
More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Loganâs demeanor has shiftedâless brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.
âI must say,â Charles says, his tone warm and approving, âI havenât seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, itâs working.â
And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isnât just the little gestures anymoreâitâs the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.
â
âI never thought weâd get here,â you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.
Logan looks at you, his expression tender. âNeither did I,â he says, his voice full of sincerity. âBut Iâm damn glad we did.â
You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. âI love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.â
His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. âI love you too, darlinâ. I never thought Iâd feel this way about someone.â
You know what heâs trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. âShow me,â you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.
He doesnât need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if heâs savoring the feel of you.Â
You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown.Â
His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until youâre both breathless.
When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each otherâs, youâre both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.
âYouâre everything to me,â he murmurs. âI never thought Iâd get my happy ending, but here you are⊠and Iâm never lettinâ you go.â
You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where youâre meant to be. âAnd Iâm never leaving,â you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.
This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Loganâs hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.
That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if youâre the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, youâre not just in loveâyouâre in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely.Â
And that makes all the difference.
----
a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual
#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett fic#the wolverine#wolverine#wolverine angst#logan x reader#logan howlett#james logan howlett#logan howlett imagine#angst#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett angst#deadpool 3#wolverine smut#deadpool#wade wilson#x men#x men movies#logan howlett smut#mcu#marvel#mcu imagine
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Quiet Affections
Jake âHangmanâ Seresin x Pilot!reader
Summary: After her friends tease her about Jake having a crush on her, Y/N reflects on certain memories that make her question whether there might be some truth to their playful jabs.
Warnings: Teasing, pining, Jake being a sweetheart, Y/N being oblivious, insults aimed at Y/N, protective Jake, mention and description of injury, anxiety, doubts, fluff.
Notes: Happy Friday, everyone! We made it! đ I just hit 2,500 likes on here and wanted to thank each and every one of you who liked, reblogged, or commented on my works. It means the world to me. Iâm down bad for Jake, and need him badly so I wrote this. Enjoy byeeee
You find yourself deep in the heart of the Hard Deck, the familiar hum of chatter and clinking glasses forming a comforting backdrop. Rooster, Natasha, Javy, Bob, Reuben, and Mickey are clustered around the pool table, laughter spilling freely as they take turns making shots and throwing jabs. Jake had just excused himself to go to the restroom, but not before brushing a lingering hand against your shoulder and whispering something that made you smile. This action set off a chain reaction of teasing directed at you.
"Y/N, you know Hangmanâs got a huge crush on you, right?" Rooster's mustache twitches with a sly smile as he lines up for his shot.
You laugh it off, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh please, Bradley. Jake? No way. He's just... nice."
Rooster and Natasha exchange glances before Natasha cocks an eyebrow at you. "Nice? Hangman is many things, but nice isn't the first word I'd use. Unless heâs talking to you," she remarks, tapping her cue stick against her palm.
Bob, always the quiet observer, chimes in. "He's got a point though, Y/N. I've seen how he looks at you."
You can't help but roll your eyes. "I'm just completely unaware of it," you say, sarcasm dripping from your voice. "You guys are ridiculous."
Mickey grins, his boyish charm lighting up his face. "Maybe, but can you really deny the way he's always got your back?" he asks, leaning casually against the pool table.
Your first instinct is to rebut, but as their words settle in, you start to think about some of the things Jake had done for you. Not just the grand gestures like saving your hide in aerial combat, but the small, everyday things. The way he'd always save you a seat, bring you coffee exactly how you like it, offer subtle words of encouragement when you doubted yourself.
Javy steps forward, his competitive spirit twinkling in his eyes. "You're telling me you haven't noticed how he always goes out of his way to make sure you're okay?"
Reuben, good-natured but always vigilant, nods in agreement. "Hangman's not exactly an altruistic guy, Y/N. But for you? He'd go to lengths he wouldn't for anyone else."
You crack a wry smile, determined to stay firm in your denial. "He's just protective. We're teammates."
Natasha had already joined in, her voice warm yet teasing. âDonât sell yourself short, Y/N. Itâs not just about being teammates. He genuinely cares.â
In the ensuing silence, you can't help but ponder on their words. Jake "Hangman" Seresin is charismatic and assertive, traits forged from his exceptional flying skills and competitive nature. But beneath that cocky exterior, there lies a heart incredibly loving and caring, willing to sacrifice anything for his loved ones. Slowly, you find yourself drifting into a vivid memory, reliving the countless cherished moments and experiences you've shared with Jake.
You recall that evening at the Hard Deck vividly. The bar was buzzing with the usual chatter and laughter, the hum of camaraderie filling the air. You were amidst your friends, enjoying the rare downtime when an unfamiliar voice cut through the noiseâthis stranger making an offhand but cruel remark about you. The comment was subtle, yet it stung deeply, rooting you in place with a mix of shock and mortification. Your cheeks burned under the weight of the ridicule, words lodged in your throat.
Before you could muster a response, you felt Jake's presence beside you, solid and reassuring. He stepped forward, placing himself between you and the offender. His usual easy going demeanor was replaced by a steely resolve, his eyes dark with anger. "Do us all a favor and think before you speak," he said, his voice steady but carrying an unmistakable edge.
The bar fell into an uneasy silence as Jakeâs glare pinned the offender in place. "If you've got a problem with Y/N," he continued, his voice low and unwavering, "youâll be dealing with me."
The tension hung in the air, thick and palpable. The offender, unable to match Jake's intensity, muttered an apology and slunk away, deflated. The moment passed, but the impact lingered. Jake remained there a moment longer, ensuring the threat had fully dissipated before turning back to you.
As he met your gaze, the hardness in his features softened, replaced by a gentle concern. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, his voice filled with a tenderness reserved just for you.
You felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude, the initial embarrassment giving way to a profound sense of relief. Jake had stood up for you without a second thought, his protective instinct leaving no room for compromise. In that moment, you knew you were safe, not just physically but emotionally, knowing Jake had your back. His touch and the concern in his eyes reassured you even more, providing a solace that words alone could not.
. Â Ę Ë àŁȘ . â * .⥠*:ïŸ. Â Ę Ë àŁȘ . â * .⥠*:ïŸ. Â Ę Ë àŁȘ .
Then there was the night when you couldnât sleep, tormented by insecurities that gnawed at the edges of your mind. It was long past midnight, and you found yourself seated on the deck of the aircraft carrier, trying to get some fresh air to clear your head before the mission. The vast expanse of the ocean and the cool night breeze did little to quiet the whirlwind of self-doubt swirling inside you.
The stars dotted the sky like tiny beacons, and the waves below gently lapped against the ship's hull, but none of it brought you peace. You wrapped your arms around yourself, tense and lost in thought, barely noticing the sound of footsteps approaching.
Jake emerged from the shadows, his silhouette becoming clearer in the soft glow of the ship's lights. He paused when he saw you, his brow furrowing with concern. He looked around, ensuring no one else was around, before walking over to you with determined but careful strides.
"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice breaking the solitude with an edge of worry.
You hesitated, feeling foolish for bothering him. "IâŠI just can't stop thinking about everything that's been going wrong. I don't know if I'm cut out for this, Jake."
Jake's eyes softened, and he lowered himself to sit beside you on the cold metal deck. "Tell me more," he said gently, coaxing you to open up. His voice was so steady, so soothing, that you found yourself pouring out all your fears and anxietiesâthe relentless pressure, the fear of failure, the nagging feeling that you weren't good enough. With each word, you felt a weight lifting from your chest.
Jake listened without interrupting, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by an unwavering focus on you. His eyes never left your face, and his expression remained kind and attentive. "You know what I see when I look at you?" he said quietly once you had finished. "I see someone who's brave, who fights every day to be better, who cares deeply about others. You're stronger than you think, Y/N. Don't let those doubts control you."
His words felt like a balm to your soul, soothing the raw edges of your insecurities. When he reached out to brush a stray tear from your cheek, the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his eyes melted away your remaining doubts, leaving you wrapped in a cocoon of reassurance. Sitting there on the deck, under the endless sky, you felt profoundly grateful for Jake's unwavering support and the strength he helped you find within yourself.
. Â Ę Ë àŁȘ . â * .⥠*:ïŸ. Â Ę Ë àŁȘ . â * .⥠*:ïŸ. Â Ę Ë àŁȘ .
You also remember the time when you injured your ankle during a training exercise. You had insisted on limping back to your quarters, trying to maintain your independence. But Jake wouldn't hear of it. He had scooped you up without a second thought, cradling you in his arms as if you weighed nothing. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic gentleness. The entire trek back, he kept you engaged in light-hearted banter, ensuring your mind stayed off the pain.
. Â Ę Ë àŁȘ . â * .⥠*:ïŸ. Â Ę Ë àŁȘ . â * .⥠*:ïŸ. Â Ę Ë àŁȘ .
And how could you forget the morning he had brought you coffee? Not just any coffee, but a complex, personalized concoctionâan oat milk latte with a shot of caramel, a pinch of cinnamon, and a dash of nutmeg, and no foam. You hadnât even mentioned it to him before. "Thought you could use a pick-me-up," he had said nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But you knew the effort he had put into remembering such a detailed order, and it made your heart swell with an unfamiliar warmth.
These memories play in your mind like a cherished montage, each moment a testament to the man beneath the bravado. Jake "Hangman" Seresin wasnât just the cocky pilot everyone else saw. He was a protector, a confidant, a friend who cared deeply for you, even if you had been too blind to see it before.
Returning back to the present moment amidst the lively ambiance of the Hard Deck, surrounded by the warmth of friends and laughter, you notice Jake returning from the restroom. As your eyes meet, his familiar smirk emerges, but this time thereâs a tender softness in his gaze that you hadnât noticed beforeâor perhaps, hadn't allowed yourself to see.
âMiss me?â he jokes, sliding back into the chaos of pool cues and friendly banter.
You chuckle, shaking off the speculative thoughts. âLike a bad habit, Seresin.â
But later, as the night winds down and the camaraderie ebbs into a quieter hum, you catch yourself glancing his way more often. The teasing remarks of your friends arenât so easily dismissed anymore. And as Jake catches your gaze across the room, you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they might be onto something.
Because sometimes, the most significant realizations are the ones that had been right in front of you all along, masked by the comfort of friendship and the chaos of duty.
You smile to yourself, feeling an inexplicable warmth. Maybe it was time to see what was beyond the camaraderie, to delve into the possibilities of what if. The thought lingers, like an unopened letter, waiting for the right moment.
For now, you return to the laughter and games, but with a new awareness, a curiosity that couldnât be easily shaken. One thing was for sureâthings were going to get interesting.
-
Text divider credits: @bunnysrph
#jake seresin#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin fic#jake seresin imagine#jake hangman seresin x reader#hangman x you#hangman fanfiction#hangman x reader#hangman imagine#jake hangman seresin#hangman x y/n#top gun maverick#top gun fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#fanboy garcia#bob floyd#natasha phoenix trace#javy coyote machado#payback fitch#glen powell
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
"Did the love affair maim you too?" | Part ii
Joel Miller xf!reader
part one | next part
chapter summary: After getting back his memories, Joel and you slipped away again.
word count: 15,3k (yes, it's longer than the first chapter)
warnings: angst, perhaps fluff, mentions of death, mentions of blood, and more angst, you will find out why Joel is mean in this chapter. I know I'm a teacher, but I didn't proofread, so I apologize for any mistake. paragraphs in italics indicate flashbacks.
a/n: Hello! The awaited part 2 of this story is here! I want to say thank you for the amount of love the previous part received, it was so nice to see all your reactions to this one! It was also my first fic reaching 1k> in less than a week and was overwhelming (positively). THIS IS NOT THE LAST PART, so stay tuned for the next! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! happy reading and PLEASE tell me what you think. đ
dividers by @/saradika-graphics
For a mere second of time, wanting was enough for you. In a harsh reality where a tender love couldnât be part of the writing pages of a tragedy that had changed the plans destiny had for humanity, even a simple glimpse of a spark was enough to initiate the fire.
Finding a reason to wake up was enough. Joel was enough for you, even when it was a path with not a clear ending.
A lie.
A maim affair engulfed in fire burning your lungs.
A tragedy.
You looked up from your work as you sensed people entering at the place, your eyes meeting Joelâs for the first time. His expression was hard, his eyes narrowed as he sized you up. He didnât say anything at first, just watched you with a guarded look that made you feel like you were being evaluated.
âCan I help you?â you asked, trying to keep your voice steady under his intense gaze.
âShe needs that looked at,â he said, his tone brusque as he gestured to Ellieâs arm.
You nodded, motioning for Ellie to sit down. As you began to clean the wound, you could feel Joelâs eyes on you, watching your every move. It was as if he was waiting for you to make a mistake, to prove that you didnât belong there.
âSo, youâre infamous nurseâ Joel said after a moment, his voice still cool and distant.
You looked up from your work, meeting Joelâs eyes briefly before returning your focus to Ellieâs wound. His words hung in the air, a subtle challenge beneath the surface.
âInfamous?â you repeated, trying to keep your tone neutral. âI didnât know I had a reputation.â
Joel shrugged, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving you. âSmall town. People talk.â
You nodded, understanding that this was as much about sizing you up as it was about Ellieâs injury. Youâd heard about Joelâeveryone in Jackson had. He was a protector, a survivor, and not someone who trusted easily.
âIâm just here to help,â you said, keeping your voice steady as you wrapped Ellieâs arm with a bandage. âThatâs all.â
Ellie, sensing the tension, glanced between the two of you, her eyes wide. âSheâs okay, Joel,â she said, trying to ease the atmosphere. âItâs just a scratch.â
Joel didnât respond to Ellie; his focus remained on you. There was something in his eyesâa guardedness, a wariness that told you he was waiting for you to prove yourself, or perhaps waiting for you to slip up.
âIâve been in Jackson for a few daysâ you continued, finishing up with Ellieâs bandage. âJust trying to do my part.â
âEveryoneâs got a part to play,â Joel said, his tone still clipped. âJust make sure you know yours.â
You felt the sting of his words but didnât let it show. Instead, you nodded, stepping back as Ellie hopped off the table.
âThanks,â Ellie said, giving you a small smile.
âYouâre welcome,â you replied, managing a smile in return.
Joel pushed off the wall, his eyes still on you as he motioned for Ellie to follow him. âLetâs go,â he said, his voice softening slightly when he spoke to her.
As they walked towards the door, Joel paused for a brief moment, his hand resting on the doorknob. He turned back, his eyes meeting yours once more. There was something in his gaze, something more than just suspicion. It was as if he was searching for something in you, trying to read who you really were beneath the surface.
For a second, the hardened lines of his face softened, but just as quickly, the guarded expression returned. Without another word, he turned away and led Ellie out of the infirmary, the door closing behind them with a quiet thud.
You felt like breathing again.
By the moment you had reached your house, the sun had barely risen, casting a pale light over the quiet settlement. A few people were starting their duties as you walked with dried tears on your face, just wanting not to be perceive and being able to take a shower and follow your routine as you always used to die it since your arrival, but the ache was bigger than your wiliness and you ended up lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, the horror on Joelâs face kept replaying in your mind. The heartbreak was raw and overwhelming, making it hard to breathe, let alone face the day.
You didnât even notice you had fallen sleep until a knock came at your door, it took a moment for you to register the sound. You dragged yourself out of bed, wiping at your newly fresh tears from your eyes and trying to compose yourself as best as you could.
Opening the door, you found Maria standing there, her expression concerned. âHey,â she said softly, her eyes scanning your face. âRamirez told me you didnât show up at the infirmary this morning. Thought Iâd check on you.â
You forced a weak smile, stepping aside to let her in. âThanks, Maria. I just... fell asleepâ
Maria nodded, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. She glanced around, taking in the disarray before turning back to you. âYou donât look like youâve slept much.â
âI had a pretty good sleepâ you said, voice breaking at how you so could still picturing Joelâs eyes looking at you with adoration last night âBut morning cameâ you said, voice breaking âJoel got his memory back.â
Maria's eyes widened with concern and understanding. She moved closer, gently placing a hand on your arm. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.â
You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes again. "He doesn't remember loving me, Maria. He thinks I took advantage of him. He hates me."
Maria's expression softened, and she pulled you into a comforting hug. "I can't imagine how painful that must be for you. But you didn't take advantage of him. You both shared something real, even if he doesn't remember it now."
You clung to her, "I don't know what to do. I feel so lost right now."
Maria pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "Take it one step at a time. Give yourself permission to feel what you're feeling. And remember, you have people here who care about you. You don't have to go through this alone."
You nodded, trying to find some comfort in her words. "Thanks, Maria. I just... I don't know how to face him now."
Maria squeezed your hand reassuringly. "You don't have to figure it all out today. Take some time for yourself. Maybe stay away from the infirmary for a today? give yourself a break."
You sighed, feeling lost. "Yeah, maybe that's a good idea."
Maria smiled softly. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You're stronger than you think, and you have a lot of people who care about you."
You managed a small smile. "Thanks.â
She nodded, giving you another comforting squeeze before standing up. "I'll check in on you later, alright? And if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
As she left, you felt a small sense of humiliation, as if what had just happened was just a small piece of gossip to feed a community.
You stare at the wall for a minute, getting your stuff together. If you could get over what happened before arriving to Jackson, you could follow your life. Thatâs what you were making yourself believe.
So, you changed into new clothes, placing Joelâs shirt under your bed to not having sight of it again. And with a deep breath you left your house, walking to de infirmary to get your job done.
A broken heart wasnât really a big issue in an already broken world. Â
As you walked to the infirmary, the weight of the morning's events lingered in your chest. The usual bustle of the settlement seemed distant, like a muted backdrop to your internal turmoil. Every step felt heavy, but you kept moving, determined to focus on your responsibilities and find some semblance of normalcy.
Upon arriving at the infirmary, you were greeted by the familiar soft hum of activity. People glanced at you with curiosity, but no one asked any questions. You were grateful for their unspoken understanding, and you quickly immersed yourself in your tasks, finding solace in the routine.
Hours passed in a blur of tending to some Jackson residents, organizing supplies, and ensuring everything was in order. The work kept your mind occupied, though it couldn't completely drown out the ache in your heart.
As the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you saw Maria standing there, her expression gentle yet firm.
"Hey," she said, her voice soft but steady. "How are you holding up?"
You managed a small, tired smile. "I'm getting by. Staying busy helps."
Maria nodded, understanding in her eyes. "I'm glad you're here. I just wanted to check in and see if you needed anything."
You shook your head. "I donât want to talk. Itâs overâ you said, avoiding her gaze.
She placed a reassuring hand on your arm. "I know you said you don't want to talk, but I'm here if you change your mind," she said softly. "Sometimes it helps to just let it out."
You looked at her, the pain still fresh in your eyes. "Thanks, Maria. Maybe... maybe later. I just need some time now."
She nodded, respecting your need for space. "Take all the time you need. Just remember, we're here for you."
You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, a bit of rage simmered.
âYou all were the ones who told me to go for it. You told me Joel was in love for me and him recovering his memory wouldnât break what was there, but this morning he treated me like a whore and broke my heart.â
Maria's eyes filled with sympathy and regret. "I know, and I'm so sorry for what you're going through. We all believed it would be different. Joel... he's complicated. The things he's been through have left deep scars. But that doesn't excuse how he treated you."
You took a shaky breath, the pain still fresh and raw. "I just don't understand how it could change so quickly. One moment, we were so happy, and the next... he hates me."
Maria reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. "Joel's been through a lot, and sometimes people lash out when they're scared or confused. But that doesn't make it any easier for you. You deserve better than that."
You nodded, tears welling up again. "I just wanted to be happy. I thought we could be happy together."
Maria's grip tightened slightly, a gesture of support. "You will be happy again. It might not feel like it now, but you will. You're strong, and you have people who care about you. We'll get through this together."
Maria gave your arm one last reassuring squeeze before stepping back. You watched her leave, feeling of sorrow. The pain was still there, but you knew it would take time, but you also knew you wouldn't have to face it alone.
Later that evening, the emotional turmoil still roiling within you, you decided to head to the bar. You hoped the familiar atmosphere and a drink might help numb the pain, even if just for a little while. As you pushed open the door, the hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses filled the air, a stark contrast to the quiet despair you felt inside.
You made your way to the bar, trying to avoid looking around too much, but it was impossible not to notice Joel sitting at a table in the corner. His arm was wrapped around Lori, and they were laughing together, looking every bit like a happy couple. The sight hit you like a punch to the gut, the wound from the morningâs confrontation ripping open all over again.
Taking a deep breath, you walked up to the bar and ordered a drink, trying to keep your hands from shaking as you waited, Rick, the bartender, sensing your mood offered a small smile.
âWhatâs wrong with your face, darling?â he asked, concerned on his eyes.
You graced him with a small, tired smile at the question. âJust a rough day,â you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded understandingly, setting your drink in front of you. âWell, hereâs something to help take the edge off. If you need anything, just let me know.â
âThanks,â you said, taking a sip of the drink. The warmth of the alcohol spread through you, momentarily dulling the pain.
As you sat there, trying to lose yourself in the comforting anonymity of the bar, you couldnât help but glance back at Joel and Lori. Their laughter and closeness were a stark contrast to the emptiness you felt. You turned away quickly, not wanting to see any more.
âIs it Joel?â Rick asked gently, his voice cutting through your thoughts.
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down.
He sighed sympathetically, shaking his head. âLove can be a real mess sometimes.â
You chuckled bitterly. âYeah, tell me about it.â
The bartender gave you a knowing look. âItâll get better, you know. It might not seem like it now, but time has a way of healing these things.â
You took another sip of your drink, hoping he was right. âI hope so.â
âIf you need anything, just ask me, okay?â he said, smiling at you before going back to his task.
You took another sip of your drink, hoping he was right. âI hope so.â
You nodded, trying to muster a smile in return. As the Rick moved away, you felt the weight of the day pressing down on you again. Lost in thought, you barely noticed the person sitting next to you until you felt their presence.
Turning slightly, you saw Joel, his expression unreadable. Your heart skipped a beat, a mix of emotions surging through you, all the pain, anger, and a lingering trace of love.
Perhaps he was here to apologize.
Joel cleared his throat, looking almost as uncomfortable as you felt. âHey,â he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.
You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. âHey,â you replied, your voice strained.
Joel shifted in his seat, glancing at the drink in front of you. âI didnât expect to see you here.â
You shrugged, not trusting yourself to say much more. The sight of him so close, the contrast memories of his tender touch last night and the harsh words from the morning still fresh, made it hard to breathe.
He took a deep breath, his eyes finally meeting yours. âLook, about this morningâŠI was asking myself if I should let my door open tonight for you to come in the lure or something?â
The laugh he made after that cracked your already broken heart. The sound was harsh, cruel, and it cut through you like a knife. Your eyes widened in disbelief, and you felt your entire body tense.
âYou think this is funny?â you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with hurt and anger. âYou think what happened between us is something to joke about?â
Joelâs laughter died on his lips as he saw the hurt and anger in your eyes. âI- â
âWhat did you mean? you interrupted, your voice rising despite your efforts to keep it steady. âBecause it sure as hell feels like youâre entertaining yourself by making jokes right now.â
Joel's face twisted into a bitter expression. âWhat do you expect me to say? That I suddenly remember everything and I'm head over heels for you? Life doesn't work that way, princessâ
Your heart sank further, the cruelty of his words stinging more than you wanted âYou donât have to be cruel to be funny, Joel. You could at least try to understand what Iâm going through.â
He leaned back, crossing his arms defensively. âUnderstand what? That youâre upset because you tried to rewrite a history that doesnât exist between us? Iâm sorry, but I canât change how I feelâor donât feel.â
You shook your head, feeling an anger bubbling within you. âYou donât get it.â You said, simply. Taking a seat on the stool, again.
Joelâs expression hardened. âYouâre too busy living in a fantasy to see that whatever you think happened between us is over. I donât remember it, and I donât care to. Move on.â
You looked at him, fighting the tears. âI will move on from you. Youâre not that important.â You looked towards the direction he had come from, not breaking the façade. You immediately spotted Lori who seemed amused at Joels treating you badly. âGo back to your woman, Millerâ
Joelâs jaw tightened at your words, and he leaned in closer, his voice low and laced with anger. âYou know what? I will. At least she knows where we stand. Unlike you, clinging to some fantasy that never existed.â
Your vision blurred with anger and hurt as you stared at him. âYou really think youâre better than me.â
He smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes. âIâm done with your drama.â
The words hit you like a slap, and before you could stop yourself, you balled your hand into a fist and swung at him. The punch landed squarely on his jaw, causing him to stagger back, a look of shock and pain flashing across his face.
The bar fell silent as everyone turned to witness the commotion. Joel touched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you, anger and something elseâsomething more vulnerableâflickering in his gaze.
âDonât you ever talk to me like that againâ you spat, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. âYou are the worst mistake Iâve done here.â
Joel's eyes blazed with a mix of anger and shock, but he didnât say anything. You could see his jaw clenching, and the vulnerability in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened look. The silence in the bar was deafening, every eye on you.
You didnât wait for his response. You turned on your heel and marched towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of your emotions threatened to overwhelm you, but you refused to let Joel see you break down.
As you pushed the door open, the cool night air hit your face, offering a small respite from the intensity of the bar. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. You wiped them away angrily, not wanting to show any more weakness.
As you stormed out into the night, the tears mingling with the cool air, you heard the door swing open behind you. Heavy footsteps quickly followed, and you knew who it was before you even turned around.
"Hey," Tommy called out, his voice filled with concern. "Wait up."
You spun around to face him, your anger and hurt bubbling over. "What do you want, Tommy?" you snapped, your voice trembling with emotion. "Did you come to see the fallout of your brother's words?"
Tommy stopped a few feet away, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "I came to check on you," he said softly. "I saw what happened in there. Are you okay?"
You laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and broken. "Do I look okay to you, Tommy? Your brother just ripped my dignity there?â
Tommy's eyes were filled with sympathy. "I know Joel can be a real asshole sometimes. But he's just confused. This whole memory thing has messed with his head."
You shook your head, the tears streaming down your face. "No, Tommy. This isn't his memory. He doesn't care about me. He never did. He never willâ
Tommy took a step closer, his expression pained. "That's not true. I know my brother, and I know he cared about you. He's just scared. He doesn't know how to handle this."
You scoffed, the anger boiling over. âCare about me?â you laughed. âHe was just dumfounded. What you saw inside is the real him.â
Tommy's face twisted with concern, his eyes pleading for you to understand. âLook, I know it seems like that right now, but Joelâs been through a lot. This memory thing has him all messed up.â
You shook your head, your voice trembling. âNo, Tommy. You didnât hear the things he said. He thinks I took advantage of him. He doesnât remember any of the good times, any of the moments we shared. He just sees me as some... some opportunist.â
Tommy sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. âI donât know what to say. Joelâs always been stubborn, and this whole situation is making it worse. But youâre not alone in this. We all care about you.â
âCaring about me doesn't fix what he did," you said, your voice breaking. "He treated me like I was nothing.â
âI get it. I really do,â Tommy replied, his voice softening. âJust... give it time. Maybe things will get clearer.â
âTime wonât change what he said. It wonât change how he made me feel,â you replied, the bitterness in your voice evident.
Tommy opened his mouth to speak but then closed it, realizing there were no words that could ease your pain. He took a step back, giving you space. âIâm here if you need me. Just remember that.â
âI donât need the baby miller protecting me.â You spoke. âFrom now on, Iâm just the nurse and if you need me patrolling, I donât want Joel near me.â
Tommy's face fell slightly, but he nodded, understanding the gravity of your words. "Alright. I'll make sure to arrange things so you don't have to cross paths with him."
You could see the concern in his eyes, but you didn't have the energy to address it. "Thank you," you said, your voice hollow. "I need to be alone now."
Tommy hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Take care of yourself, alright?" He turned and walked back towards the bar, leaving you standing alone in the quiet night.
As you watched him go, you felt a mixture of relief and sadness. The night air was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort.
Turning away from the bar, you started walking, not sure where you were heading but knowing you needed to move. Each step felt heavy, but you forced yourself to keep going. You would find a way to heal, even if it felt impossible right now.
One step at a time, you told yourself again. One step at a time.
Week one.
You had promised yourself to not having. And Joel had had started to have punctuating headaches.
When he arrived, he noticed another guy standing where you used to be. The unfamiliar face caught him off guard, and a sense of unease settled in his stomach.
"Where's the nurse?" Joel asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
The new guy, a young man with sandy hair and a nervous demeanor, looked up from his preparations. "She asked to be reassigned. Said she didn't want to do patrols anymore."
Joel's heart sank. "Did she say why?"
Before the guy could answer, Tommy walked over, overhearing the conversation. "I'll take it from here," Tommy said, looking at the new guy, who nodded and walked away.
Joel turned to Tommy, his expression a mix of confusion and worry. "What's going on, Tommy? Why'd she ask to be reassigned?"
Tommy sighed, crossing his arms. "She didn't want to be around you, Joel.â
Joel felt a pang of guilt and frustration. "I didn't mean for things to get this bad. I was just... I was trying to deal with everything, I think I handled it wrong."
Tommy nodded. "Yeah, you did. And now sheâs moving on as you asked her to.â
Joel's chest tightened at Tommy's words. "I didn't think she'd actually wasâŠI- I thought sheâd... I donât know, understand.â
"Understand what, Joel?" Tommy asked, his tone sharper than usual. "That you were scared and hurt, so you took it out on her? You made your bed, now youâve gotta lie in it."
Joel ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his mistakes. âOkay whatâs so wrong? Since when she is in love with me?â
âDid you know she was the one who brought you back here when you feel and hit your head so hard you forgot about her? Or about all this past year?â Tommy said exasperated, âShe was there for you every single day and man, she was scared of letting you in because she knew all this was going to happen.â
Joel's mind reeled as Tommy's words sank in. "She brought me back?" he echoed, a wave of guilt washing over him.
"Yeah," Tommy said, his voice heavy with frustration. "She did everything for you. Every single day. And you just pushed her away like she meant nothing."
Joel felt his heart constrict. He had been so consumed by his own confusion and pain that he hadnât stopped to consider what she had gone through. "I didn't know. I didn't remember."
"Thatâs the point, Joel. You didn't remember, and instead of trying to understand, you lashed out at her."
Joel nodded slowly, trying to absorb the pieces of new information.
"You can't just fix this with a few words, Joel.â Tommy added, as if he had just read his brotherâs mine. âShe had gone through much already.â
âWhat do you mean by that?â Joel asked, concern came from nowhere.
Tommy sighed deeply, looking away for a moment before meeting Joel's gaze again. "She went through hell before she even got here, Joel.â
Tommyâs words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken pain. Joel's brow furrowed as he tried to grasp what his brother was saying.
"What do you mean?" Joel asked, his voice low and hesitant, the concern now unmistakable.
Tommy looked at him for a long moment, as if debating whether to reveal something he wasnât sure Joel was ready to hear. Finally, he sighed, his expression softening with a mix of empathy and frustration.
"She was on her own for a long time before she found Jackson," Tommy began, his tone measured. "Lost her family, everyone she ever cared about. Saw things that would break most people. But she survived. She made it here, and despite everything, she decided to stay and help us. She didnât have to, but she did. And when you came back hurt and lost, she put everything into helping you, even though she knew it was a risk."
Joel felt a lump forming in his throat as Tommy spoke. He had been so wrapped up in his own struggles that he hadnât seen the depth of what she had endured.
"And you," Tommy continued, his voice thick with emotion, "you were her last straw, Joel. She let her guard down for you, and you crushed her.
Joelâs heart ached at Tommyâs words. He felt the sting of regret deep in his chest, knowing that he had only added to her pain.
"Tommy, I..." Joel started, but the words failed him. What could he say that would make any of this right?
"You need to understand something, Joel," Tommy said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Sheâs not just some woman whoâs here to patch us up and send us on our way. Sheâs a survivor, just like us. And she deserves a hell of a lot better than what you gave her."
Joel nodded, feeling the full weight of his actions pressing down on him. He realized now just how much he had taken for granted, how much he had failed to see.
That same afternoon, the weight of his guilt and determination pressing heavily on his chest, Joel made his way to the infirmary. He had rehearsed what he would say a hundred times in his head, but the closer he got, the more uncertain he felt. He needed to talk to you, to apologize, to start making things right.
When he arrived, he hesitated at the door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open. The familiar smell of antiseptic and the soft hum of activity greeted him as he stepped inside.
You were at the far end of the room, organizing supplies and preparing to leave for the day. Your back was turned to him, and for a moment, he just stood there, unsure of how to start. But then you sensed his presence and turned around, your eyes meeting his.
For a brief second, something flickered in your gazeârecognition, maybe even surpriseâbut it was quickly replaced by a cold, distant expression.
"Hey," Joel said, his voice sounding more tentative than he intended.
You didnât respond right away. Instead, you continued with what you were doing, organizing a stack of medical supplies. It was clear you were trying to keep busy, to avoid engaging with him.
"Can we talk?" Joel asked, taking a cautious step closer.
You paused, your hands stilling for a moment before you turned to face him fully. Your expression was unreadable, your eyes guarded. "I'm busy, Joel," you said, your tone clipped and distant.
Joel felt a pang in his chest at your coldness, but he knew he deserved it. "I know. I just... I wanted to apologize. For everything. I know I hurt you, and Iâm sorry."
You looked at him for a long moment, your expression hard. "I donât need your apologies," you replied, your voice steady but laced with an edge of bitterness. "Whatâs done is done."
Joel swallowed, feeling the sting of your words. "I understand that, but I still want to make things right. I want to try."
You shook your head, a small, bitter smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "You canât just fix this with a few words, Joel. You made it clear how you felt. I was so pathetic for seeking tender love in a world like this, and I was so pathetic for accepting it from you."
Joel flinched at your words, the harsh truth of them cutting deep. He opened his mouth to respond, to say somethingâanythingâthat might reach you, but you were already moving past him, grabbing your coat and heading for the door.
"Wait," he said, reaching out to stop you, but you brushed past him without a second glance.
"Iâm done with this conversation, Joel," you said over your shoulder, your voice cold and final. "If you have something to say, save it for someone who cares or maybe for when you fuck Lori.â
For a long moment, he didnât move, his heart pounding in his chest as he replayed the conversation in his head. The way you looked at himâso detached, so unlike the sweet person you wereâshattered any remaining hope he had of mending things between you. Joel clenched his fists frustration welling up inside him.
And with that, you were gone, leaving Joel standing in the infirmary, the empty room echoing with the silence of everything left unsaid.
Week two.
The distance between you and Joel grew even wider. You kept yourself busy with your duties at the infirmary, throwing yourself into work to avoid thinking about him. Jackson was large enough that it wasnât hard to avoid each other, especially since you made a point to steer clear of any places where you might run into him.
Joel, on the other hand, wasnât faring as well. The days felt like they were dragging on, each one heavier than the last. The guilt and the lingering regret of how things had ended between you, was starting to take a toll on him. He found it harder to concentrate on anything, his mind constantly wandering back to you, replaying your last conversation over and over again.
Things hadnât started bad between the both of you. There was a time, not too long ago, when things between you and Joel had been differentâbetter. When you first arrived in Jackson. He was wary, of course, just as everyone. People with big walls up for protecting the same from the dangers from the outside.
Initially, he had kept his distance, observing you with a cautious eye. But as days turned into weeks, something shifted. Youâd taken on the role of a nurse with a quiet determination, and your compassion and dedication gradually began to break through the walls Joel had built around himself.
There was one particular evening when you both found yourselves at a small community gathering. It was one of those special moments for people to unwind and reconnect. Joel, usually reserved and gruff, had shown up with Ellie in tow, and you were surprised to find him engaging in casual conversation, a rare sight indeed.
You and Joel had ended up chatting while sitting around a makeshift bonfire. The conversation had started with practical mattersâhow best to handle a certain type of injury or a recommendation for new suppliesâbut soon it evolved into more personal topics. Joel had shared stories from his past life, and you found yourself opening up about your own one.
The old versions of two people trapped in the endless tragedy
The atmosphere was relaxed, and for the first time, you saw a different side of Joel.
Joel was seated across from you, a relaxed look on his face that you rarely saw. His eyes, usually so guarded, were softer tonight. Ellie was nearby, occupied with a makeshift game sheâd crafted from scavenged materials.
âSo, you actually went through all that trouble for a single, mediocre meal?â you asked, chuckling at Joelâs tale of a particularly botched cooking attempt.
Joel grinned, a rare and genuine smile that lit up his face. âYouâd be surprised what we went through to get even a half-decent meal back then. We were pretty desperate.â
You laughed, shaking your head. âI canât imagine. Iâm just grateful for what weâve got now, even if itâs not gourmet.â
Joel nodded in agreement. âYeah, things are better here. A lot better than they were.â
There was a comfortable silence between you, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire. You glanced at Joel, noticing how his eyes softened as he spoke. âIâm glad youâre here. Itâs nice to have someone who understands what itâs like out there.â
Joel met your gaze, his expression sincere. âAnd Iâm glad youâre here too. Youâve done a lot for everyone. For Ellie, especially.â
For Joel, dealing with all of this started to become unbearable the moment migraines hit. They had started as a dull ache, a constant pressure in his head that he could push through if he focused hard enough. But as the days went on, the pain intensified, becoming sharp and unrelenting. The pounding in his skull would come in waves, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. He tried to hide it at first, not wanting anyone to see him weak, but it wasnât long before people began to notice.
Heâd find himself gripping the edges of tables or leaning against walls to steady himself, his vision blurring as the pain surged through him. He hadnât had migraines like this in years, not since the early days when the world had first gone to hell. But these were different, more intense, and he couldnât shake the feeling that they were somehow connected to something else.
Maybe someone, his thoughts screamed.
Tommy noticed too, of course. He had been keeping a close eye on his brother ever since the confrontation in the infirmary, and it didnât take long for him to realize that something was wrong.
Joel had just returned from patrol; his face pale and his movements unsteady. As he walked through the door of the house, he winced, his hand pressing against his temple. The migraine had hit him hard, and he was struggling to keep it together.
Tommy was already in the kitchen, grabbing a drink when he noticed Joelâs distress. He set the cup down, crossing the room quickly. âYou okay, Joel?â he asked, his voice laced with concern.
Joel tried to force a casual shrug, but the pain in his head made it difficult. âYeah, justââ He hesitated, trying to find a plausible excuse. ââjust got a bit of a headache. My new patrol partnerâs been causing me more stress than usual. You know how it is.â
Tommy raised an eyebrow, skeptical. âYour new partner? Weâve only had him for a few days. Doesnât seem like heâd cause this much trouble.â
Joel rubbed his temples more vigorously, trying to stave off the waves of pain. âItâs been rougher than I expected, okay? Just one of those days.â
Tommy didnât look convinced, but he didnât push the issue further. âAlright, if you say so. But if this keeps up, you should get it checked out. Donât let it go too long.â
Joel nodded, grateful for Tommyâs concern but unwilling to admit the full extent of his struggle. âYeah, Iâll be fine. Just need to rest.â
Joel couldnât even convince himself. He just didnât find strength to face you.
That evening, the bar was lively, filled with the hum of conversation and laughter. Joel sat at a corner table with Lori, Tommy, and Maria. He was trying to focus on the conversation, but the throbbing pain in his head made it difficult. Lori, noticing his discomfort, kept a concerned eye on him, occasionally reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly.
As you walked in, the barâs ambient noise seemed to momentarily quieten, and Joelâs gaze instinctively shifted toward you. You moved with purpose, but your demeanor was cold and distant. Tommy and Maria spotted you first and greeted you warmly.
âHey, itâs good to see you,â Tommy said, waving you over.
Maria offered a friendly smile. âYeah, come join us.â
You returned their greetings with a nod, but when your eyes met Joelâs, you turned your attention elsewhere, ignoring him completely. Joel shifted in his seat, trying to hide his discomfort, but the strain was visible in the tense lines of his face.
Lori noticed the awkwardness and frowned. âYou could at least hide you jealously and stop being a mean bitchâ she said to you, loud enough for everyone around to shut.
The barâs noise seemed to drop as Lori's words cut through the air. You felt every eye on you as the tension escalated.
You turned to Lori, your face hardening. âIâm not here to entertain you or play nice.â
Loriâs face flushed with anger. âWell, if you canât be civil, then maybe you shouldnât be here at all.â
Joel, trying to defuse the situation, interjected, âLori, thatâs enough.â His voice was strained, both from the growing migraine and the emotional weight of the confrontation. âWe donât need to make this any worse.â
âNo! Iâm tired of this bitch being a pain to us just because you donât love her backâ she continued, calling you out.
Joelâs face tightened with a mix of frustration and pain. âLori, seriously, stop. This isnât helping anyone.â
You stood tall, your voice icy as you spoke. âI donât need a lecture from you or anyone else. Iâve been nothing but professional, and thisââ you gestured between yourself and Joel, ââis a personal matter. Iâm done being the target of everyoneâs frustration.â
Joelâs gaze wavered, his eyes reflecting the hurt from your words. âYou donât have to be like this.â
âNo,â you snapped, âI donât have to be here at all. If you want to know why Iâm acting this way, itâs because I donât want to be around someone who canât see my worth.â Your voice cracked with emotion. âYou can keep Joel. I donât want a man who canât appreciate me.â
You sighed, taking a deep breath. âIâm so done with all your pity because the man Iâm in love with doesnât remember loving me. But life moves on, and so do I. Iâm done being the center of anyoneâs misplaced sympathy.â You sighed a little, embarrassment creeping up your body âIâm just- I want you all to stop talking about me as if Iâm a broken little girl, please.â
With a final, resolute glance at the group and the rest of people inside, you turned and walked out of the bar. The door swung shut behind you, the muffled noise of the bar fading as you stepped into the night.
Joel froze there, the harsh sting of your words lingering.
The man Iâm in love with.
Why did you even love him?
Joelâs heart pounded in his chest as he processed your words. The sting of your rejection mixed with the searing pain in his head, making it hard to think clearly. He stood frozen for a moment, watching you leave, his mind racing with regret and confusion.
After a few seconds, he shook himself out of his daze. He could feel Loriâs eyes on him, her frustration still palpable. Ignoring her, Joel pushed himself up from the barstool, his movements tense and hurried.
âSorry, I need to go,â he muttered, his voice rough and distant. He didnât wait for a response and headed for the door. As he stepped outside, the cool night air hit him, offering a brief reprieve from the oppressive atmosphere of the bar.
Joel saw you standing just outside the bar, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The cool night air seemed to accentuate the solitude you radiated, and the flickering streetlight cast uneven shadows over your face. Joelâs heart ached as he approached, the intensity of his migraine fading into the background compared to the weight of his regret.
He stopped a few feet away, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Hey," he said, his voice rough but gentle. "I didn't mean to... to make things worse tonight."
You looked up, your eyes meeting his. They were red-rimmed, a sign of the emotional toll the evening had taken. "What do you want, Joel?" Your voice was quiet but edged with defiance.
Joel shifted uncomfortably, the words coming out in a rush. "I know I screwed up. I know I canât undo whatâs been done. But I want you to know that Iâm sorry. I was a damn fool, and I didnât see how much you were hurting."
You shook your head, looking away. "Itâs too late for apologies. You made your choices."
âI know,â Joel admitted, his voice heavy with sorrow.
âGo back inside to your womanâ you said, voice steady yet the truth of the words cut your throat.
Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with an aching with regret and yearning. He could feel the pounding in his head lessen, as if your presence, though tense and fraught with pain, was soothing the storm within him.
He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "I don't want to go back inside. I came out here to talk to you. I need to explainâ"
You cut him off, your voice colder now. "I donât want explanations, Joel. I want you to be honest with yourself and with me."
Joel's expression faltered, his usual resolve wavering under the weight of his migraine and the emotional strain. "I don't know what to say," he admitted quietly. "Every time I try to make things right, I just seem to make it worse."
"Look," Joel said, taking a step closer, though he kept a respectful distance. "I know I canât fix everything right now, and I know Iâve hurt you more than I ever intended. But if there's any chance at all to mend things, I want to try. I need to try."
You glanced at him, feeling the strange mix of emotions. His presence, his apology, even his struggle, created a confusing pull. You nodded, not trusting your voice.
"Just... take things slow," you said finally, your voice softening slightly. "Show me, donât just tell me."
You gave him one last, lingering look before turning away, the night air feeling strangely lighter as you walked back toward your house. Joel watched you go, a fragile sense of relief mingled with the lingering weight of his migraine.
Joel nodded, his heart aching.
Week three
The situation between you and Joel remained tense and unresolved. Despite the brief moment outside the bar, there was still an emotional chasm between you two. Meanwhile, Joel's migraines continued to worsen, each one more debilitating than the last. The pain had become a constant companion, gnawing at him, making it difficult to focus on anything else.
Tommy had been watching his brother closely, his concern growing with each passing day. He had noticed how Joel winced at the slightest noise, how he gripped the edges of tables to steady himself, and how he often retreated to dark corners to try and alleviate the pain. Tommy knew something had to give, and he wasn't sure how much longer Joel could keep this up, especially with patrols still on the agenda.
During the morning, as the patrol assignments were being handed out, Tommy pulled Joel aside. âYou sure youâre up for this?â he asked, his voice laced with concern. âThese migraines⊠theyâre getting worse, Joel.â
Joel nodded, though the movement sent a sharp pain through his temples. âIâll be fine,â he muttered, not wanting to admit how bad things had really gotten. âJust need to keep moving, keep my mind off it.â
Tommy sighed, not entirely convinced. âAlright, but Iâm pairing you up with someone who wonât hesitate to call for backup if things go south.â
Joel raised an eyebrow, wondering who Tommy had in mind. His answer came when you walked into the room, your expression unreadable as you glanced at Tommy, then at Joel.
âYouâre on patrol with Joel today,â Tommy said, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. âConsider it part of the consequences for that little outburst at the bar the other night.â
You opened your mouth to respond, but then closed it, seemingly deciding against saying anything. Instead, you simply nodded, surprising both Tommy and Joel.
Due to your situation with Joel, you would have argued, pushed back, but you didnât. Whether it was out of a sense of duty, or because you had your own reasons for going along with the assignment, neither man could tell.
Joel looked at you, his expression hard to read. He wasnât sure what to expect, but he knew that this patrol was going to be anything but ordinary. The tension between you two was palpable, and the fact that you hadnât fought the assignment left him uneasy.
As the two of you geared up and headed out, the silence between you was thick, neither of you willing to break it first. The path ahead was familiar, but the atmosphere was charged with unresolved emotions and the weight of things left unsaid.
As you and Joel prepared to head out for patrol, Tommy pulled you aside, his expression serious. âListen, I know things are tense between you two, but if Joel starts feeling bad, you come back immediately. No heroics, no pushing through it. Understood?â
You nodded, not meeting Tommyâs eyes. âUnderstood,â you replied, your tone neutral. The truth was, you didnât know how you felt about being on patrol with Joel, but you werenât going to argue with Tommyâs orders.
Tommy looked at you for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but he held back. Instead, he just gave you a small nod before turning back to Joel, who was adjusting his gear a few feet away.
Joel caught Tommyâs eye, and there was a silent exchange between the brothersâTommyâs concern evident, and Joelâs stubborn determination clear.
Once outside the gates, the silence stretched between you and Joel, heavy and uncomfortable. The forest around you was quiet, the only sound was the crunch of your boots on the dirt path. You kept your eyes ahead, focused on the task at hand, but you couldnât help but be aware of Joelâs presence beside you.
As you walked, you noticed something strange. Joel, who had been rubbing his temples and wincing in pain earlier, seemed to be a bit more at ease. The tight lines of pain on his face had softened, and he wasnât clutching his head like he usually did.
You didnât want to think too much about it, but you couldnât help but wonder if your presence had something to do with it.
Joel, too, was aware of the change. He had been bracing himself for another wave of pain, expecting the migraine to hit hard as it had been for days now. But instead, he felt⊠better. The pain was still there, lurking in the background, but it was muted, manageable. And the only thing that had changed was that you were with him.
As you continued walking, the strange shift in the atmosphere didnât go unnoticed. Joel glanced at you every now and then, his brow furrowing slightly, as if he was trying to figure out what had changed. You kept your focus straight ahead, but the weight of the unspoken tension between you two was hard to ignore.
After a while, you slowed down and finally came to a stop, gesturing for Joel to halt as well. Without saying anything, you walked over to your horse and untied a small bouquet of flowers that had been carefully wrapped and secured to the saddle.
Joel watched, puzzled, as you held the bouquet tightly in your hand. "Just... just wait for me here for a bit," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. There was a softness to your tone that caught Joel off guard, and he nodded, sensing that whatever you were about to do was important.
You walked a short distance off the path, through the dense trees and underbrush, until you reached a small clearing. The air was still, and the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze.
Joel stayed where he was, leaning against his horse, but his eyes followed you, curiosity and concern mingling in his expression.
In the clearing, you knelt down beside a small, unmarked grave, the earth slightly raised from where you had buried your boyfriend two years ago.
You placed the bouquet gently on the grave, your fingers lingering for a moment on the petals. Your heart ached with the familiar pang of loss, the pain of carrying love for someone who was no longer here. It was a pain you had learned to carry with you, but it never really went away.
As you knelt there, a few silent tears slipped down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away. This was a private moment, one you hadnât shared with anyone, not even Joel. He had no idea about the depth of your loss, about the man you had loved and lost before arriving in Jackson.
When you finally stood up and turned back toward the path, Joel was still waiting, his expression unreadable. You walked back to him in silence, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.
"You alright?" he asked, his voice soft as his eyes studied your expression.
You didnât answer right away, your fingers brushing lightly against your jacket. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "This is where I buried him. My fiancĂ©."
Joelâs heart sank as he remembered the voice of Tommy telling him some things he didnât even remember about you. And now seeing you here, in this quiet, sacred place, made the weight of your grief all the more real.
"I didnât know," Joel said, his voice laced with regret. He felt a pang of guilt for not being there for you when you had gone through this, for not understanding just how much you had carried with you all this time. "Iâm sorry."
You nodded slowly, still staring at the grave. "Itâs been a long time since Iâve come here. I didnât think Iâd be able to handle it, but⊠I guess I needed to say goodbye again. Properly."
Joel stepped closer, his presence a comforting warmth at your side. He didnât know what to say, but he knew he needed to be there, to offer whatever solace he could.
"He was a good man," you continued, your voice stronger now. "He was kind, patient, everything I could have asked for. But this world⊠it takes everything good and leaves you with nothing but memories."
Joel clenched his jaw, feeling the familiar ache of loss that never truly went away. He knew all too well the pain of losing someone you loved, the emptiness that followed, the way it changed you forever.
"He deserved better," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "He deserved a future, a life. But instead⊠he got this."
Joel rested his hand gently on your shoulder. "Iâm sorry," he repeated, the words feeling inadequate but all he could offer.
But instead of finding solace in his touch, you flinched, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once. The grief, the anger, the overwhelming sense of lossâit all came flooding back, and you couldnât handle it, not right now.
âDonât touch me, okay?â you said, your voice trembling as you pulled away from him, putting a small but significant distance between you. You didnât want to hurt him, but you needed space, needed to breathe without feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of your emotions.
Joel froze, his hand lingering in the air for a moment before he slowly lowered it, the rejection hitting him harder than he expected. He swallowed, trying to push down the rising tide of guilt and pain that your words had stirred up.
âOkay,â he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew better than to push, knew that you needed time to process everything on your own. But it didnât stop the sting of your words from cutting deep, reminding him of all the ways he had failed before, all the ways he had let the people he cared about slip through his fingers.
âPeter was the only man who deserved my love,â you said, your voice laced with a mix of bitterness and sorrow. The truth of it stung, cutting through the air like a blade. You didnât mean to be cruel, but the words slipped out before you could stop them, a reflection of the turmoil swirling inside you.
Joel swallowed hard, the hurt in his eyes evident as he processed what you had just said. He knew you were grieving, that you were speaking from a place of pain, but it didnât make the words any easier to hear. For a moment, he didnât know how to respond, his mind reeling from the sudden shift between you.
âI get it,â he finally said, his voice tight with emotion. âYou loved him. And he was⊠he was a good man. Better than me.â
He looked away, unable to meet your gaze, feeling the weight of his own inadequacies bearing down on him.
 âYes, he wasâ you said without a doubt. âAnd that killed him.â
Joelâs heart clenched at your words, the blunt truth of them landing like a blow. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, the weight of your statement pressing down on him. The silence between you grew thicker, charged with the grief and anger that neither of you could fully express.
âHe and I had a kidâ you confessed, you heart clenched at the memory of that little boy you took care of for five years of your life.
Joelâs head snapped up at your confession, his eyes widening in shock. The weight of what you had just revealed hit him hard, leaving him momentarily speechless.
âHe and I⊠we had a kid,â you repeated, your voice trembling as you forced the words out. Your heart ached at the memory of the little boy you had taken care of, loved, for five years of your life. The pain of losing him, of losing the family you had built, was still fresh, a wound that hadnât even begun to heal.
Joelâs expression softened, the anger and frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface giving way to something deeperâcompassion, understanding, and an overwhelming sense of sorrow for everything you had lost. He could see the pain etched into your features, the way your shoulders slumped under the weight of your grief, and it broke something inside him.
âIâm so sorry,â he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He didnât know what else to say.
Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away, not wanting to break down in front of him. âHis name was Sam,â you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. âHe was just a baby when we found him, abandoned⊠we took him in, raised him as our own. And then, one dayâ you sobbed, âThey killed himâŠThose fucking soldiers killed him.â
âPeter and I had planned on how leaving all behind, he had hear about Jackson from a friend, and then he trusted the wrong people.â
Joelâs breath caught in his throat as he listened to you, the horror and anguish in your voice cutting through him like a knife. He could see the pain etched deeply into your features, the way your body trembled with the force of your grief. The image of what you had enduredâlosing not just your partner but the child you had raised together, taken away in such a cruel and senseless wayâwas almost too much to bear.
âThey killed him,â you repeated, your voice thick with emotion as tears streamed down your face. âThey took everything from me⊠from us. We just wanted to be safe, to give him a life that meant something. But those soldiers⊠they didnât care. They saw us as a threat, as nothing more than collateral damage.â
Joelâs fists clenched at his sides, anger surging through him at the thought of what had been done to you and your family. He knew the kind of world you were living in, where trust was a dangerous thing, and hope could be ripped away in an instant. But knowing it didnât make it any easier to accept.
âIâm so sorry,â Joel murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He wanted to say more, to find the right words to ease your pain, but everything felt inadequate in the face of such a profound loss.
You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as you continued. âPeter and I⊠we had it all planned out. We were going to leave everything behind, start over in Jackson. He had heard about it from a friend, and it seemed like the only chance we had. But⊠he trusted the wrong people.â
Your voice broke again, the sobs coming harder now as you relived the nightmare. âThey promised us safe passage, said theyâd get us out. But it was a trap. They turned us over to the soldiers, and Sam⊠he didnât stand a chance. He was just a little boy. He didnât even know what was happeningâŠâ
Joel felt a lump in his throat, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him as he watched you unravel before him.
Without thinking, Joel stepped closer, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly against him. He didnât say anything, didnât try to offer empty words of consolation. He just held you, letting you cry against his chest, his hand gently stroking your back in an attempt to soothe you.
The world had gone eerily quiet after the gunfire ceased, the only sounds left were your ragged breaths and the distant cries of crows circling overhead. You could still feel the heat from Peterâs body fading beneath your hands, his blood soaking into the earth beneath him. The image of his lifeless eyes, staring blankly up at the sky, was seared into your mind, a horrific reminder that he was gone, that the man you loved, the father of your child, was never coming back.
You had been too stunned to cry, too numb to feel anything beyond the cold realization that you were alone.
Hours seemed to pass in a blur before you finally forced yourself to move. You couldnât stay there, not with Peterâs body cooling beside you, not with the knowledge that those men might come back to finish what they started. So, you rose on shaky legs, your heart pounding in your chest, and stumbled away from the scene of the massacre, your mind numb as you left him behind.
The sun had begun to set by the time you found the old cabin, hidden deep within the woods. It was small, decrepit, with broken windows and a door that hung askew on its hinges, but it was shelter, and that was all that mattered. You pushed open the door and stepped inside, the musty smell of decay filling your nostrils as you surveyed the dark, empty space.
It felt wrong to be alive, to still be breathing when Peter wasnât, when Sam wasnât. But survival was instinctual, and something inside you kept pushing you forward, kept you searching for a way to stay alive, even when all you wanted was to curl up and disappear.
You sank to the floor, your back pressed against the rough wooden wall as the tears finally began to fall. They came slowly at first, like a trickle, but soon they turned into gut-wrenching sobs that echoed through the empty cabin. You clutched your knees to your chest, rocking back and forth as the storm outside began to roll in.
The wind picked up, howling through the trees and rattling the cabinâs fragile walls. Rain began to pour in heavy sheets, drumming against the roof and leaking through the cracks, pooling on the floor around you. Lightning flashed, illuminating the dark interior in brief, blinding bursts, and the thunder that followed was so loud it shook the very foundation of the cabin.
You were alone for the first time in years, truly, devastatingly alone. The weight of that realization crushed you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think of anything other than the emptiness that stretched out before you. The storm outside mirrored the chaos inside you, the violence of it a reflection of the torment that raged in your heart.
Maria and a group of people found you two days later
And you had become terrified of storms ever since. Â
You stiffened in Joelâs arms, the overwhelming flood of emotions too much. You couldnât let yourself be comforted, couldnât let someone else get close, not after everything youâd lost. The fear of opening up, of allowing yourself to be vulnerable again, was suffocating.
âDonât,â you whispered, your voice cracking as you stepped back, pulling away from him. âDonât touch me.â
Joelâs arms fell to his sides, the rejection clear in his eyes as he took a step back, giving you the space you needed. The hurt in his expression was evident, but he didnât push, didnât try to reach out for you again.
âYou just feel pity because you see me as a broken dollâ you said.
Joelâs expression tightened, his brow furrowing as your words cut through the air like a knife. He opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, clearly struggling with how to convey what he was feeling. The accusation hung between you, heavy and bitter, and the silence that followed felt suffocating.
âI donâtââ Joel started, his voice low and rough. He took a breath, trying to gather his thoughts, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. âI donât see you that way.â
âThen why are you here, Joel?â you demanded, your voice rising with the pent-up frustration and pain. âWhy are you trying so hard to be⊠whatever this is? You didnât care before, but now you do because Iâm broken?â
âHow were you so sweet to everyone after what happened?â he finally asked, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and a hint of disbelief. It was as if he couldnât comprehend how you managed to keep going, how you could still find kindness within you after everything youâd endured.
You looked at him, your expression softened by the lingering sadness, but there was a strength behind your eyes, a resilience that had kept you moving forward. âBecause I didnât lose them because of you all,â you said quietly, your voice steady despite the pain that laced your words. âI wasnât going to become angry at the people who gave me another chance.â
The truth of your statement hung in the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. You had chosen to protect the small bit of humanity you had left, to hold onto the kindness that others had shown you when you needed it most. But that didnât mean the anger, the grief, or the pain had disappearedâit was still there, buried deep, threatening to consume you if you let it.
Joel looked down, his shoulders sagging slightly as he absorbed what you said. He understood the weight of guilt, the way it could twist inside you, making you question everything. He had carried his own burden of guilt for years, but hearing you speak those words, seeing the strength it took for you to hold onto the good in the face of so much loss, it humbled him.
âIâm sorry,â he said again, the words barely above a whisper. âI wish I could take it all back, change what happened. What I did to you and how I treated you the morning you woke up in my bedâ he sighed, âSorry for not remember what happened between usâ
You looked at him, your eyes filled with a quiet, resigned sadness. âIt doesnât change anything, Joel. Itâs done. I canât change the past either.â
Joelâs shoulders slumped, the weight of your words settling heavily on him. The finality in your voice, the distance between you, made him feel even more lost, and he turned away, the ache of regret and loss deepening with each step he took.
Joel walked away, his steps heavy and deliberate. The weight of your words hung over him, a constant reminder of the things he couldnât change, the pain he had caused. Each step felt like a step further from any hope of repairing what had been broken.
You watched him go, the solitude of the moment pressing in around you. The quiet was suffocating, filled with the echoes of the past and the weight of unspoken words. You turned back toward the grave, the memories of what you had lost mingling with the present pain.
A simple affair, torturing you.
+
Grieving the death and grieving the living were taking a tool on you.
Week four
A week had passed since that tense confrontation. The days had been a blur of activity and emotional exhaustion, the storm within you a constant companion. The quiet conversations with others and the daily routines in Jackson offered little distraction from the lingering sadness, but they kept you moving forward, one step at a time.
Everyone could say than a simply affair would dissipate with the time, that each week would make you unlove Joel, but you couldnât take a complete distance from your lingering feelings.
And Joel? Joel had kept his distance, following your request for space. His presence was felt in the background, a reminder of the unresolved tension and the feelings that had been left hanging in the air. You had seen him around, in passing, but there was an unspoken agreement that he would not intrude upon your space.
He couldnât bear to face you.
One morning, as you prepared for another day at the infirmary due to Tommyâs request, you found yourself in the familiar surroundings of the clinic. The routine was a small comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions. The soft hum of medical equipment and the scent of antiseptic filled the air, offering a sense of order and control.
As you were organizing supplies and checking on your patients, a familiar voice broke through the calm. âHey.â
You looked up from your tasks to see Joel standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of hesitation and resolve. He seemed slightly out of place in the clinical setting, but there was a determined look in his eyes.
âJoel,â you greeted, your voice steady but tinged with surprise. âWhat are you doing here?â
Joel took a step inside, his gaze scanning the room before settling on you.
âIâve been trying to find the right time to give this to you,â Joel said, his voice a bit rough, as if he was struggling to find the right words.
Curiosity mingled with the apprehension you felt. âWhat is it?â
Joel took a deep breath, stepping closer but still maintaining a respectful distance. âItâs a little something I thought might help. I know it doesnât fix anything, but I wanted to offer it to you anyway.â
You hesitated for a moment before reaching out to take the package from him. It was small and wrapped simply, the gesture surprisingly thoughtful given the circumstances. You carefully unwrapped it, revealing a worn leather-bound journal. The cover was embossed with a delicate pattern, and as you opened it, you found pages filled with blank lines, waiting for your thoughts and feelings.
âYou can write on it,â Joel said softly. âAnd I thought maybe, if you wanted to, this could be a place for you to put everything thatâs been on your mind. Itâs not much, but I thought it might help.â
The gesture was unexpected, and as you looked up at Joel, you could see the genuine care in his eyes. It was a small attempt to bridge the gap between you, to offer something meaningful despite the unresolved pain.
You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness. âThank you,â you said quietly, your voice almost choked with emotion. âItâs⊠thoughtful.â
Joel nodded, a small, almost relieved smile touching his lips. âI hope it helps, even just a little.â
There was a moment of silence between you, the weight of the past week settling in the air. Joelâs eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of the connection that had once been there, while you felt the tug of conflicting emotionsâappreciation for the gesture, but also the lingering pain of his actions.
âHow are your migraines doing?â You asked.
Joel looked slightly taken aback by your question, the personal nature of it a stark contrast to the more distant conversation that had been unfolding. He studied your face for a moment, perhaps surprised by your concern.
âTheyâre getting worse every day,â he admitted, his voice carrying a weight of weariness. âBut today, Iâm feeling a bit better. Itâs been rough, though. The migraines have been relentless.â
You felt a rush of blood to your cheeks, concern and embarrassment at the question. âTommy mentioned it,â you said quickly, wanting to clarify your source of information. âI justâwell, I wanted to know how youâre doing.â
Joel nodded, his eyes softening slightly. âThanks for asking. It means a lot. Itâs been tough, but Iâm managing.â
The vulnerability in his admission made you feel a pang of empathy. It was hard to see him struggling, especially when you had your own unresolved feelings and painful memories.
âWell, Iâm glad youâre having a better moment today,â you said, your voice steadying as you tried to offer some comfort.
Joelâs expression grew more thoughtful, and he gave a small, appreciative smile. âYeah, Iâm holding onto that. Thanks for checking in.â
The silence between you was charged with unspoken emotions. You both stood there, the weight of your recent conversations lingering in the air. Joel looked like he was about to say something else, but instead, he gave a nod and started to walk away.
âTake care,â you called after him, the words carrying a genuine warmth despite the emotional distance that remained between you.
You had settled onto a barstool, a glass of whiskey in hand. The amber liquid was smooth and comforting, its warmth spreading through you as you took a sip. The effects of the alcohol were starting to take hold, making everything feel just a little more relaxed, a little more bearable.
Joel was at the bar, nursing a drink of his own. He hadnât been particularly social that night, just sitting in his usual spot, lost in his thoughts. As the evening wore on and you became tipsier, you found yourself drawn to him, the comfort of familiarity outweighing the shyness that normally kept you at a distance.
You slid off your stool and made your way over to Joel, the room spinning slightly as you approached him. âHey,â you said, your voice a bit louder than intended, carrying the cheerful buzz of someone whoâd had a few too many drinks. âMind if I join you?â
Joel looked up from his glass, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. âSure, have a seat,â he replied, gesturing to the empty stool next to him.
You plopped down beside him, the warmth of his presence surprisingly comforting. âYou know,â you said, leaning in slightly and grinning, âI donât think Iâve ever seen you in here this early before. Youâre usually so⊠serious.â
Joel chuckled softly, the sound of a low rumble that was both soothing and grounding. âYeah, I guess I am. Just needed a drink tonight.â
In the afternoon, the usually calm atmosphere of the infirmary was disrupted by the sound of the door swinging open with a sense of urgency. Joel stumbled inside, his face pale and etched with pain. He moved slowly, his usual steady gait faltering under the weight of his unbearable migraines.
You looked up from your work, your heart sinking at the sight of him. He was clearly in distress, his eyes squeezed shut as if trying to shut out the world. You quickly set aside what you were doing and hurried over to him.
âWhat do you want?â you asked, intending to sound too rude.
âIââ Joel started, but the words were interrupted by a sharp grimace of pain. âI canât take it anymore. The migraines⊠theyâre just too much.â
âFrom one to ten? How much is the pain?â you asked.
âWhatâs that bullshit?â He cried out.
You took a deep breath, trying to keep your own frustration in check. Despite the roughness of Joelâs response, you could see that he was in genuine distress, and you needed to get a handle on his pain level to help him effectively.
âItâs just a way to measure how bad the pain is,â you explained, your voice firm but compassionate. âOn a scale from one to ten, where one is no pain and ten is the worst pain, youâve ever felt, where are you right now?â
Joel clenched his teeth, his face twisted with agony as he tried to focus. âItâs⊠itâs an eight,â he finally managed to say through gritted teeth.
He had saved that ten.
 The ten was the amount of pain he had when he lost Sarah.
A ten was the pain his heart felt when he looked at you from the distance.
You nodded, quickly assessing the situation. âAlright, Iâm going to get you something stronger for the pain. Try to sit down and breathe slowly. Iâll be right back.â
As you hurried to prepare a stronger medication, you felt the weight of the past few weeks pressing heavily on you. The bitterness in your words and his pain seemed to intertwine, creating a tense atmosphere that was hard to ignore. But your focus remained on getting Joel the relief he needed.
You quickly gathered the necessary medication and made your way back to Joel, who had seated himself on one of the examination tables. As you approached, you noticed his breathing was uneven, and his eyes were squeezed shut as if he was trying to block out the pain and your presence.
"Let me check your head," you said softly, your voice gentle despite the tension that hung between you. "I need to make sure there's nothing else going on."
Joel nodded slightly, his face still contorted in discomfort. As you leaned in to examine his head, your proximity made his breath catch in his lungs. The closeness between you seemed to amplify the charged atmosphere, making the air around you feel heavy.
You carefully placed your hands on his temples, your touch light but firm as you assessed his condition. Joel's breath became shallow and uneven, a sign that he was acutely aware of your closeness. He tensed under your touch, the intensity of his pain mixed with the vulnerability of the moment.
"How's that feel?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you moved your fingers over his forehead and the sides of his head.
Joel swallowed hard, his eyes still closed as he tried to focus on your touch rather than the pain. "Feels⊠a bit better," he managed to say, though his voice was strained. "Just⊠donât know if I can handle this much longer."
You gave a reassuring nod, trying to offer comfort despite the lingering tension. "You're doing great. The medication should help soon. Just hang in there a little longer."
You both could feel your breathing mingling together, the agony of the closeness taking everything from you.
Joel closed his eyes for a bit, feeling you scent and your fingertips on his temples. In the haze of his agony, there were fleeting glimpses of a night that felt both distant and achingly familiar. He remembered the warmth of your touch, the softness of your lips against his. The kiss you had shared the night before he got his memory back began to resurface, bringing with it a surge of emotions he had long tried to bury.
The kiss had been tender. Joel could almost feel the echo of that moment now, a soft, lingering taste of intimacy that was both comforting and heartbreaking.
He remembered the way you had looked at him, the way your eyes had softened with unspoken words. The image of your face, so close to his, the way you had smiled before the kiss, replayed in his mind with a clarity that cut through the pain. It was as if your closeness was pulling these memories to the surface, forcing him to confront them once more.
Joelâs breath caught as he recalled the warmth of your lips, the way it had felt to hold you close. It was a vivid contrast to the overwhelming pain he was experiencing now, and it made him realize just how much he had missed and lost. The memory of that kiss, the feeling of being connected to you, made his heart ache with a mix of longing and regret.
He let out a slow, shaky breath, trying to ground himself in the present while the memories swirled around him. As much as the past few weeks had been a struggle, this moment of closeness with you was stirring up feelings he had tried to keep buried. Joelâs eyes opened slightly, looking at you with a vulnerability that he hadnât shown before.
âSunâŠâ he started, his voice barely above a whisper.
The sound of "Sun" coming from his lips felt almost foreign, yet deeply familiar. It was a term of endearment he had used before his memory loss, one that had held a special place between you two.
âSunâŠâ he repeated, the word carrying tenderness and longing.
Your heart skipped a beat, the nickname a bittersweet reminder of the bond you had shared. It was a small yet significant piece of the past surfacing, offering a glimmer of connection despite everything that had happened.
You felt a rush of conflicting emotions, the glimmer of hope mingling with a deep-seated fear of revisiting old wounds. The nickname, the touch, the faint echo of past affectionâit all stirred up feelings you weren't sure you were ready to confront.
Taking a steadying breath, you stepped back, your hand moving quickly to hand him the medication. âHere,â you said, your voice steady as you handed him the small packet of pills. âThis should help with the pain. You should head home and rest.â
Joel looked up at you, a flicker of understanding and disappointment in his eyes. He could sense the shift in your demeanor, the way you were putting distance between you both. âYou sure you donât need any help?â he asked, his voice laced with concern.
You shook your head, forcing a smile that didnât quite reach your eyes. âNo, Iâm fine. Just⊠please, go home. A storm is coming, and you should get back before it hits.â
Joel hesitated for a moment longer, but the look in your eyes told him that you needed space, that pushing further would only cause more pain. With a reluctant nod, he took the medication and turned to leave, his steps heavy with the weight of what was left unsaid.
As he walked out of the infirmary, you watched him go, the storm outside a stark parallel to the storm brewing inside you. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady yourself against the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. The fleeting connection, the memories stirred upâit was all too much to handle right now.
You were a bit tipsy, the effects of the whiskey making your steps a little unsteady. Joel walked beside you, his presence a steady anchor amidst the haze of your inebriation. You were both quiet, the conversation from the bar having dwindled into comfortable silence.
As you approached your house, you turned to him, a small, tipsy smile playing on your lips. The intimacy of the evening and the warmth of his proximity were too comforting to ignore. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. The action was impulsive, driven by a mix of affection and the blurred boundaries of alcohol.
Joel's reaction was immediate. He responded to the kiss, his arms finding their way around you as he deepened the connection. There was a brief moment where the world seemed to hold its breath, the kiss a sweet and tender promise of something more.
When you finally pulled back, your faces were flushed, and you looked at him with a mixture of uncertainty and contentment. Joelâs eyes were filled with a mix of surprise and warmth, the kiss having ignited something within him that he hadnât anticipated.
âGood night, Joel,â you murmured, your voice soft and slightly slurred as you turned to go inside.
Joel watched you enter your house, his thoughts swirling in the wake of the kiss. He felt a strange blend of hope and confusion, uncertain about what the kiss meant for both of you. But the feelings were there, undeniable and strong.
The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow in your bedroom. You woke up with a throbbing headache, the remnants of last night a blurry haze. As you shuffled through your routine, the details of the previous evening remained frustratingly out of reach. The bar, the tipsy laughter, Joel walking you homeâthese were fragments, but the kiss itself was a complete blank.
When you encountered Joel later that day, you greeted him cheerfully, assuming nothing out of the ordinary had happened. âHey, Joel. Howâs it going?â
Joelâs response was curt, his eyes avoiding yours. âHey. Iâm alright.â
You noticed the shift in his demeanor, the coldness in his tone. It was as if he was keeping you at arm's length, his usual warmth replaced with a frigid distance. You tried to brush it off, attributing it to a possible bad mood or personal issue.
Joel had resolved never to bring up the kiss, his feelings of hurt and confusion simmering beneath the surface. Heâd come to see the incident as a miscommunication, a misunderstanding that heâd decided to keep buried rather than confront. The bitterness of feeling forgotten and dismissed had solidified into a quiet, unspoken rift between you.
Joel found himself unable to shake the feeling of the day's events. The migraine had ebbed slightly during the patrol, but as soon as he was back in his house, the pain returned, gnawing at him with a persistent, dull ache.
The house was quiet, save for the steady patter of rain against the windows. The storm outside was fierce, the wind howling and the rain pouring down in relentless sheets. Joelâs mood matched the tempest outsideâstormy, unsettled.
As he was trying to organize his gear and get ready for bed, his eyes fell upon something on a chair near the door. It was the blouse you had lost that morning when he pushed you away from him, a soft, familiar fabric that he recognized immediately. He picked it up, holding it gently, and his mind replayed that morning events.
Joel held the blouse up to his face, breathing in deeply. The scent was faint but unmistakableâa mix of the outdoors, a hint of your perfume, and something more personal, something that reminded him of you. As the scent reached his senses, it hit him with a wave of emotions he hadnât fully processed until now. He felt a rush of regret and longing. The migraine that had been a constant presence in his head now seemed to fade slightly as he held the blouse. The emotional weight of his actions, the pain he had caused you, and the gulf that had grown between you all came rushing back
You sat in the dimly lit living room of your small house, wrapped in a blanket, trying to find some semblance of comfort amidst the chaos outside. The storm had intensified, the wind howling and the rain slashing against the windows with a ferocity that made the walls tremble. Every rumble of thunder and flash of lightning felt like a jolt to your already frayed nerves.
You tried to focus on somethingâanythingâto distract yourself from the fear that had settled deep in your chest. The living room was sparsely decorated, the bare walls and simple furnishings reflecting the practical, no-frills life you had tried to build for yourself. But tonight, it all seemed cold and empty, unable to offer you the comfort you so desperately needed.
You glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight, and sleep was elusive. The noise of the storm outside seemed to drown out any thoughts of rest. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, trying to stave off the chill that had little to do with the temperature and everything to do with the lonely feeling that had enveloped you.
As you huddled on the couch, the flashes of lightning illuminated the room in brief, stark bursts. Each flash cast eerie shadows on the walls, making the storm outside feel even more menacing. You found yourself jumping at every crack of thunder, your heart racing with each one.
Part of you wanted to reach out to someone, but who? The distance between you and Joel felt insurmountable, and you had made it clear that you wanted to be left alone.
The living room was filled with the sound of the storm, punctuated only by your occasional sighs and the rustling of the blanket around you. You tried to focus on breathing deeply, calming yourself in the midst of the chaos. But as the storm raged on, so did the turmoil within you.
It was during a particularly intense flash of lightning that you heard a knock on the door. Your heart leaped into your throat, and you froze. Another knock, louder this time, followed by a faint call. âItâs Joel. Can I come in?â
The voice was muffled by the storm, but it was unmistakable. Your emotions were a whirlwind of confusion and surprise. You hesitated, wondering why he would come here, why he would seek you out now, but the desperation in his voice made you move towards the door.
You opened it cautiously, the cold wind rushing in and mingling with the warmth of the living room. Joel stood there, drenched from the rain, his face lined with worry and a mixture of other emotions that you couldnât quite place.
âJoel,â you said, barely above a whisper. âWhat are you doing here?â
He looked at you with an expression that was a mix of regret, concern, and something softer that you couldnât quite define.
Words werenât need for moments like these. Two hearts beating as the silence felt like freedom of the remised prisoner love victim of the passage of time, the destiny or perhaps the fate of cursing spells.
It was there for you to see it and it was there for him to see it, but blindness was his curse. Not remembering was his curse. Joel wasnât incapable of loving someone, but he was terrified of the pieces of the old him coming to the present where losing people was a daily occurrence.
Joel was terrified of loving and losing the last flame of goodness left in this mad world that had tainted people, but you. There was a pure innocence in your eyes, in your actions and in your kindness and he had come to face his old him through you, the old him that had died with his daughter years ago.
Joelâs gaze lingered on you, his eyes reflecting the soft light from the flickering candles. His voice was a murmur, almost lost in the howling of the storm outside. âYouâre afraid of storms.â, he said quietly, his voice low and gentle. It wasnât a question. He was stating a fact, something you had confessed to him when the love affair between you was burning.Â
You looked at him, the realization dawning on you like the slow break of dawn. âYou remember.â You whispered.
And you could only hear the steady beat of your own heart and the sound of Joelâs breathing.
I tagged everyone interested in part 2 but I couldn't tag everyone because all got mixed () if you don't want to be tagged you can tell me, if you want to be tagged, you can also tell me
đ 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
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction#joel miller series#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller imagine#joel miller angst#tlou fanfiction#joel the last of us#joel x reader#Joel Miller#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#the last of us#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
tattoartist!suguru losing nonchalance when reader flirts with him?
im down bad for him holy hell
Oh, he's falling to pieces, got it bad for the girl he just met 'n he's gonna make a drunk little bet â y'think he's crazy enough to get your name tattooed on him? Or crazy enough to ink his name into your skin?
ă
ۉ
wc; ~3k
ă
ۉ
note; continuation of tattoo artist Suguru Geto!
ă
ۉ
an; aaa!! you got my brain whirring like a laptop... tysm and i hope this makes u blush and kick ur feet as much as i did while writing!! đ°âš
ă
ۉ
tagz; @ohimsummer đ@fairiesthrumđ @heartofjasmina đ @kwonan đ @ghost-buddies đ @madamecorbie đ @mima0127 đ @moggleatlife đ @natasaa13 đ @yemmuishomeforthementallyunwell đ @wakashudou đ @khaothick đ @candy-s72 đ @creamflix đ @starriesworlds
ă
ۉ
warnings; sum alcohol/drunkenness
âSo, was she joking, or am I your type?â Suguru asks, black eyes staring right into your soul.
âMm, wellâŠâ you hum, giving his form a look-over â god, if only you could feel how hard his heartâs beating when you do this. âMaybe.â You reply teasingly.
âAw, just âmaybeâ?â he groans, now leaning his hip against the edge of the display case that housed the studs and gauge earrings.
âYeah, just âmaybeâ â Iâm teasing. No, she wasnât joking; Iâve always had a thing for the black hair, black nails, bad boy lookâŠâ
âThe âbad boyâ lookâŠ?â he questions, recalling what your friend had said earlier about bad boys being just your type.
âYeah, the âbad boyâ look.â You giggle.
His heart beats even harder, muttering a naughty little âWell, lucky me.â
âNah, not so fast â Iâm a smart woman.â You warn.
âOh, are you?â he clicks his tongue in defeat, âDamn, would you believe that my type is smart women? No, no Iâm serious⊠Iâve got a thing for smart women.â
Your cheeks grow hot, the heat spreading to your ears.
âI can assure you that the âbad boyâ look is just an aesthetic; Iâm really an artsy dork making a living off doodling on peopleâs bodies.â He shrugs.
âHm⊠maybe, maybe not.â
You rub your lips together. He briefly licks his bottom lip. You look him up and down. He looks you up and down. Body language open and alive with attraction, the both of you stand in this air of electric tension that Shoko spies from the other end of the room.
She watches as the two of you giggle like little flirts, observing how totally absorbed the two of you are in each otherâs company. When you catch her eye, Shoko gives you a wink and points at her wrist, mouthing âfive moreâ â fair enough, the two of you have promised to get pizza.
Pizza first, boys later, right?
Five minutes more go by â adding to the total of four hours spent at the tattoo & piercing parlor. But despite her discomfort and need for a change of scenery, Shoko decides to linger around just a little longer so that the two of you can indulge in each other just a little more.
But now you're getting nervous â Suguru has you breathless, holding you in a battle of who can flirt harder? which you're starting to lose.
He's captivated by you. This 6â3, tattooed, goth-grunge, slightly dorky man chuckles and smiles like he hasnât had this much fun talking flirting with someone in years.
It's going well, then your smile trips him up. I know, itâs always the smile, huh? If you see enough of it, you slip⊠and thatâs exactly what's happened to Suguru. He quickly grows obsessed with the way your cheeks look when you smile â the image burns into his memory without him even realizing it in the moment.
No, in the moment he doesn't realize the magnitude of your effect on him. He's just thinking about himself, about you, about â
âIâve gotta go,â you say goodbye finally, âI donât want to keep my friend waiting. But youâll probably see my face here again⊠she loves dragging me along for these kinds of things.â
He stutters, âOh! Oh⊠yeah â yes. Of course. Looking forward to it⊠maybe next time, youâll be the one getting ink in your skin.â
âYeah right.â You smile.
Itâs your French exit that makes his heart throb in need.
No, donât leave yet⊠I like you â donât you ever wonder how many acquaintances in your life have thought this when leaving your company? And youâll never even know.
Oh, Suguru was thinking so hard about asking you to exchange numbers or to meet up for coffee, but he didnât want to come off as too forward â no, no⊠he had to maintain his mysteriousness. Or at least, he had to cling to whatever was left of it after revealing his inner dorkiness to you.
*****
After you leave, he wanders in and out of his studio, has small interactions with his co-workers, and doodles ideas for tattoos down.
Throughout all of these things, your face is at the forefront of his mind. Your voice echoes in his head as he recalls every detail of the conversation you two shared. Then he starts smiling softly as he applauds himself for being so gutsily flirty with you⊠a stranger, just someone, who he probably wonât see againâŠ
A girl with no name.
God, why was he so slow? He didnât even ask for your name. Suguru groans.
Yes, he probably wonât see you again⊠not unless your friend brings you along for her next visit. How long does he have to wait? Weeks? Months? Thatâs insane.
Suguru stops doodling, stares at the scrap of paper, and then looks up at the wall displaying his works. He rubs his fingers back and forth across his mouth.
I gotta.
He looks over to his phone. He reaches for it, takes it into his veiny hand, unlocks it, and scrolls through his list of contacts.
And then he dials his clientâs number. Shoko Ieri.
*****
Now, itâs been just under an hour since you and Shoko left the tattoo parlour. Sheâs complained three times about the pain because exactly three times she has leaned back on the seat â squishing the fresh ink wound against her chair. You just cruelly laugh at how her eyes twitch in pain and each time.
The two of you sit eating pizza.
âHe liked you. Why donât we go back and you ask him for his number?â she teases.
âNo way⊠heâll think Iâm too forward.â You shake your head.
Then three minutes later, Shoko's phone goes off. She reaches into her backpack. She looks at the caller ID, then at you, then at the caller ID, then â
â⊠is that him?â
âItâs him.â
âWhatâs he calling for! Me?â
âAbsolutely heâs calling for you â I can bet gold on that.â
It stops ringing. She tells you sheâll text him back but guess what? She doesnât even need to, because he calls again.
âRelentless.â She giggles. âIâm answering.â
âPretend Iâm not here!â
She winks at you and answers, âHey, Suguru, whatâs up?â
The two of you lean in until the your foreheads press together â itâs still hard to make out every word.
âYo.â You hear his smooth voice coming from the other side, âSorry to bother you⊠(muffled)⊠your friend (muffled)⊠so embarrassed, so donât tell her that Iâm calling⊠(muffled)⊠what was her name?â
You clap your hand over your mouth when you hear those snippets.
She gives you a devious look before saying, âOh! Well, sheâs right here with me, actually, so you can ask her yourself.â
Mouth full of pizza, you freak out and X your arms to signal a fat NO WAY SHOKO! and fall to pieces all with the taste of pepperoni on your tongue.
But she just hands the phone over to you anyways, then proceeds to silently laugh as you spit out your pizza before talking.
âHehlooo?â
âH-hey.â
You get right to the point. âMy nameâs YnâŠâ
âOh⊠I like that⊠Iâm Suguru.â
âWhat was that? I couldnât hear you.â
âSuguru. Suguru Geto.â He raises his voice.
Cheek hot against the screen of his phone, Suguru is silently freaking out at the tense silence. He can feel his stomach starting to flip. His mind blanks.
âAnyways! Um, thatâs all.â
No. Thatâs not all. He has a novelâs length worth of things to talk about with you.
At this point, Shoko rolls her eyes at the two of you being so awkward on the phone and decides that she needs to take matters into her own hands.
So she snatches the phone from you.
â â Suguru? Say, you wouldnât be free on Saturday, would ya? Yeah, Iâm going on a date with this guy⊠and Iâd love to make it a double date with you and Yn if youâd like to ââ
You hear him stutter out a yes, absolutely before Shoko can even finish her sentence. She grins.
Suguru can sense that the two of you are smiling and giggling. He can predict that the two of you are probably going to gossip about him being the 'dork from the tattoo parlor that called not once, but twice for the name of a girl he just met' â but he doesnât care. Heâs been presented an opportunity and taken it.
To hell with seeming too eager.
When the call ends, Suguru blows out a breath through his lips. Then he promptly texts his best friend. Dark strands of hair slip out of his sloppy bun as he puts his face over the screen, thumbs swift and eager.
Toru đ€đ lol bravo... but i thought u said she was out of ur league??
Sugu i mean... yes. she's way too pretty and smart for me. but i'm not gonna pass up this opportunity
Toru đ€đ still can't believe u called ur client just to get her friendâs name... lol
Sugu you would understand if you met her ok
Toru đ€đ damn she must be something else
Yes, yes you are something else â Suguru canât even begin to describe why. Translating his thoughts into words isnât his thing; he translates them into art.
****
It's later in the day. You're lazing around Shoko's apartment.
She confirms the time and place of the double date, and cackles on her couch while kicking her feet, teasing you for being so crazy about a guy you just met â her tattoo artist.
You just couldnât stop talking about Geto Suguru.
âShiiit, should I even let you and a bad boy like him be alone in a room together?â
âI can control myself.â you assure her.
She slowly shakes her head at you.
âYeah right⊠but can he? I don't trust neither of you... miss crazy and mister crazy... you might just wake up with his name in your skin.â
You giggle to yourself, biting your thumb. âMaybeâŠâ
âOh girlâŠâ she groans, causing you to giggle into yourself, âYouâre gonna be licking the tail of his dragon tattoo by the end of the date tomorrow.â
âH-h-he has a what? And where?â you stuttered, lashes quivering.
She shakes her head at you. âGod, youâre screwedâŠâ
*****
It's Saturday night. The bar's more alive than ever.
You've learned that Geto Suguru does, in fact, have a dragon tattoo inked up his toned arm â and a tight-fitting black tank top that shows it off along with his martial artistâs physique, too.
Heâs got a glint of the devil in his black eyes. Softly-delivered dirty jokes ready to roll off his pierced tongue. A habit of tilting his head and looking hungrily at your lips and neck.
âMartial arts, huh?â you ask with stars in your eyes.
âMhm, I could teach you a few things.â He purrs in reply.
Your stomach starts squeezing and flipping â thatâs got to be the flirtiest 'mhm' that youâve ever heard in your whole life.
âYou think so?â you purr back.
Now itâs his turn to feel that squeezy, flippy feeling in his stomach.
Fuckfuckfuck is all he could think when he looks into your eyes.
Iâm gonna fall to pieces. Youâre gonna be the death of me.
âUhâŠÂ do you two need some privacy?â Shoko teases.
Oh. Itâs a double date. How could you forget? Shoko is literally sitting beside you at the bar with her date. But for a second there, it really felt like it was just you 'n this deliciously tattooed bad boy.
âMaybe.â Suguru chuckles coyly.
âThereâs a hotel just next doorâŠâ
âShoko!â you scold, playfully shoving her arm.
She giggles into herself, sipping down her cocktail innocently as if she didnât just electrify the air between you and Suguru. His throatâs tensing, footâs tapping up and down on the bar stool â boyâs got long spider-legs, huh?
Now after that, Suguru grins wider â showing off his pretty canines â his posture assuming something self-soothing; he holds his elbows, arms squished against his ribcage, which just makes his biceps more pronounced. Oh why, why did he have to wear a tank top like that? Surely heâs aware of the effect it has on girls. Or maybe heâs obliviousâŠ
Nah. He's not.
*****
âDid it hurt?â you ask, trying to blink out the tipsiness from your love-drunk eyes but youâve got three cosmopolitans surging through your veins.
âNot really⊠Iâve got great pain tolerance.â Suguru replies.
âOh really?â you blink up at him again and his mind goes blank.
âLook at that...â He murmurs softly, not breaking eye contact with you. Whereâs your friend and her date? Who knows. Itâs just you and him now â and thatâs all he wanted.
âHm?â
âNot every day I see eyes like thatâŠâ
You widen your lips into a smile, âYouâre laying it on thick.â
âAm I? Sorry â see, this is what happens after you feed Suguru too much rum. I just canât keep my mouth shut.â
âThatâs terrible⊠need someone to shut ya up?â you flirt.
He tilts his head at you, loose strands of hair shifting across his cheek. His left brow quirks up â heâs so taken aback by your forwardness but he falls right into it.
You just giggle flirtatiously after making that comment and pull the straw of your drink between your lips, sucking the remnants of a cosmopolitan into your mouth as sensually as you dare to in front of a bad boy whoâs got bedroom eyes on you.
âI think I could do with some shutting upâŠâ he admits.
âMm,â you hum, âyâthink by our third date youâre gonna snap and kiss me hard like weâre in a movie?â
Suguru smiles bashfully and looks down into his drink, swirling the melting ice cubes with a straw â slowly, round and round, they clink. Then he draws his gaze back to you, catching you with a sultry side-eye, and now itâs not just the ice cubes that are melting.
âNah-uhâŠâ
âNah-uh?â you question.
â⊠I think itâs you whoâs gonna snap first.â He says.
âWanna bet?â you tease.
âSure. Whatâll be at stake?â he asks.
He keeps his sultry gaze on you as you look off to the side in thought for a moment. Your friendâs joke echoes in your mind.
â⊠you might just wake up with his name in your skin.â
Then you look back to him â his heart throbs but heâs trying to keep it together here, pulling his straw to his lips to get a sip of whatever rum still exists in his glass.
âLoser gets a regrettable tattoo?â you suggest.
He looks at you with a little bit of disbelief at your boldness.
âHow regrettable?â he questions, one eye squinting shut in suspicion. He's wondering just how wild you actually are.
âLike my name on you? Or vice versa.â
He covers his mouth and lets out a chuckle hearing this. âYou want me to tattoo my name on ya skin?â he teases. âSure, Iâll bet on that.â
You canât believe that heâs matching your crazy.
You stutter, replying only after a lingering moment of hot eye contact, â⊠thereâs no way Iâm gonna snap firstâŠâ you say boldly, proceeding to pop the cherry of your drink into your mouth and eating it right in front of the poor boyâs eyes. â âm gonna have you walkinâ around with my name on you.â
Eyes glued on your lips, his breath catches in his throat.
âYeah?â
Ooh, there it was. That feeling. That body singing electric songs feeling⊠that tummy-tightening, blood-rushing, skin-flushing feeling â it hit him all at once. He knows that if he were standing, his knees would have buckled now for sure, or at least he would have felt the tremor of your words under his feet.
Heâs unsteady â smiling uncontrollably, looking dishevelled and softly drunk. Those rouge lips are begging to be kissed.
The bar grows quieter and quieter.
Youâre hardly able to call each other anything more than strangers, and yet youâre leaning into him, closing the distance.
The tips of your noses are just inches apart now. Youâre in each otherâs air. He eyes out your lips, feels your hot, liquor-scented breath tickle his face.
But when you try and close the distance, he raises his hand and presses his thumb against your soft lips, stopping you.
âWhat happened to that bold statement, huh? Keep it together, baby; the betâs on.â He feathers against your face.
*****
Tumbling into Shokoâs apartment after a night out drinking, you smile and giggle into the pillows of her bed.
Sheâs letting her hair down and swapping out her tight dress for jammies when she looks at you in your gleeful state.
âSomeoneâs in love.â She teases, coming over to tickle you.
âIâm not in love!â
âOh, quit the act; I saw how the two of you said goodbye â you could barely hold yourself together. Drunk or not, I ainât seen two adults giggling like that before.â
âSh!â you swat her, âNot! In! Love!â
She takes a look into your eyes and observes your smile, then shakes her head. You're drowsy, so you make a dive into her bed and fall asleep almost instantly.
Shoko pulls a blanket over you, affectionately ruffling your hair.
âMadly in love, at the very least.â
#suguru#suguru geto#suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#geto x reader#x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#geto suguru x you#geto x you#suguru x you
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
hiii lovely! could you do a poly!marauders one where the reader wakes up needy and decides to relieve herself by grinding one of the marauders' thighs, leading to her being slowly and passionately fucked by all of them?
I think maybe I need to work on following instructions, I just took this and went with what turned me on at the time, hope you enjoy anyway đ©· I think I'm not that good at slow and passionate....
Masterlist.
James had his tongue buried in your pussy, your hands tugging at his hair, back arched and hips grinding down against his face. You shuddered as the edge of that one cliff came closer and closer.
Waking up was a disappointment. No James between your thighs (which was always a disappointment). It hadnât all been a dream though, your hips had been grinding against something, only, not Jamesâ tongue. Sirius was laying behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, your hair tickling his cheeks where it lay, pressed into your neck. His thigh was shoved between yours, and you realized you had been using it, in your sleep, to get off against. Sirius had beautiful thighs. Fleshy. They werenât quite as good as Jamesâ face, but not that far off. The memory of your dream fresh in your mind, along with the lovely thoughts of Siriusâ thighs, you decided to keep going, using his thigh to rub your clit against.
It took a few moments to get that really good feeling back, your orgasm having slipped away as you woke up. You tried to replay the dream from your inner eye, focusing your every thought on the feeling of Jamesâ tongue against your clit.
Siriusâ arms wrapped harder around you pulling you closer, thighs flexing from between yours.
âMorning love,â his raspy voice murmured into your neck. âHaving fun?â
âMhm,â you hummed, hips moving in tandem with the flex of his thigh. âAh- so much fun.â
You couldnât help the moans escaping your mouth as his hands moved to your hips, guiding you against him, lips kissing down your shoulder.
âSuch a pretty girl, getting off against my thigh, even in your sleep?â
âY-ah-yes.â
Using his grip on your hips, he stilled your body, stopping your hips from moving, making you whine out in protest.
âDonât worry,â he whispered, lips against your ear, âjust wanna be inside you.â
âNghh,â you groaned, unable to wait a second longer for the feeling of Siriusâ cock inside you. Pushing your hips back against his crotch, you tried expressing your want without words. Thankfully, Sirius was used to your antics and lifted the hem of your shirt, fingers finding your already dampened hole, pushing in softly, spreading slick around, readying you for him. Grinding back once more, your body told him to hurry the eff up.
âIâve got you babe,â he murmured, âjust gotta get you ready.â
Only a few seconds later, he pushed down his own underpants, freeing his cock, giving it a few pumps before pushing your side slightly, moving you to lay partly on your side and partly on your tummy. Taking one strong hold on your hip, and using one hand to line himself up, it wasnât long before he pushed himself inside of you, letting a loud groan out.
âFuck, babe, feel so good,â he said, hips thrusting against your backside. âWhat got you this wet huh? Did you have a nice dream?â
Your cheeks burned; getting off against one of your boyfriends was one thing, telling him about your wet dreams about your other boyfriend was different. But Sirius felt so good inside you, and you knew heâd enjoy it if you told him, so you bit back your embarrassment and told him.
âYe-ah,â your voice came out broken, his thrusts were more passionate than usual, long and languid strokes, taking his time, but you still struggled to speak through it. âI dreamedâ that â oh â Jamie was â going down on me â heâs so â go-od at that.â
The hand on your hip squeezed harder as Siriusâ other came around to squeeze your tit.
âHe really is good at that, maybe he should do it now, huh?â His words made you moan. âJamie? Will you take care of our girl? She needs your mouth, I think.â
You hadnât even realized that James and Remus had woken, but it wasnât surprising; you werenât exactly being quiet. When you met his eye, James looked at you with so much love in his eyes, adoration written all over his face.
âSure thing,â he said, quickly looking over your shoulder to meet Siriusâ (whose hips had slowed down even more) eye. Looking back at you, James leaned in for a quick kiss and a âgood morning, love,â before he dipped down along the bed, settling in between your thighs, hands caressing your milky skin.
As James got to work, tongue lapping with skill at your clit, Sirius kept moving his hips, dragging the head of his cock against your walls, reaching the most lovely places of your center. Just like you had in your dream, you reach your hand down to grab a hold of Jamesâ hair, grinding your hips against his mouth and chin. Unlike your dream, though, you were also grinding back against Sirius, who stopped moving his hips, allowing you to get yourself off using him.
âDamn, babe, youâre so hot, so beautiful for us, so good, getting yourself off huh? Using my cock and Jamiesâ face like the little cockslut that you are? Yeah, doing wonderful my love,â Sirius murmured against your neck, the grip on your hip having gotten softer, allowing you to move at your own accord.
James, whose mouth was slightly occupied, only hummed in agreement, as his tongue swirled around your nub.
Knowing how much his words affected you, Sirius kept talking you through it.
âGood girl, thatâs it, does it feel good? Is Jamie doing well? Dâyou like my cock inside you? Are you gonna let Remmy have a go after youâve milked me? Gotta take care of out moony yâknowâ fuck, look at him, watching you, he thinks youâre so pretty, our pretty girl, doing so well, are you gonna come? Gonna come all over me, and Jamie? Ready and open for Rem?â
He spoke absolute filth into your neck and ear, nipping at the skin, licking and biting at it, it sent shockwaves through your body, and you could feel that edge getting closer again. You did as Sirius said, looked at Remus, who had now sat himself up, leaning against the wall, pants pulled down to his thighs, hand around his cock, pumping slowly, eyes roaming over your body, you face, your tits, where Sirius played with your nipple, down to your core, where Jamesâ head was stuck between your thighs as your hips ground against him.
It was all so hot, and as Sirius kept coaxing you to come, you finally did, hips stuttering and thighs squeezing Jamesâ head. If you werenât in the middle of an orgasm, you might be worried about hurting him, though he didnât seem to mind.
âPretty girl, doing so well,â Sirius said, moving your hair out of your face as your body kept convulsing. âLay down on your tummy for me, babe.â
You did as you were told, and Sirius moved behind you, without ever pulling out completely. Straddling the backs of your thighs, he squeezed your arsecheek hard before he thrust himself inside you. It was almost too much, the cock you had just came around still being shoved inside you, but it also felt good, and you knew Sirius was close and that the feeling of him coming inside you would be worth the overstimulation.
âHurry up Pads,â Remus groaned. His hand was no longer wrapped around himself, but rather around Jamesâ now soft cock. It wasnât the first time heâd come untouched from eating you out; in fact, he often did, but Remus would always enjoy taking one more from him, tugging at his soft and aching member, forcing him to give up just one more orgasm. âMy turn soon.â
Trying to speed up the process, always ready to please Remus, you tried squeezing your walls around Sirius in time with his thrusts, tensing your muscles and using that grip to milk him dry.
You were rather successful. It wasnât many seconds before he grunted as he came inside you, hips stilling and head falling down to kiss the back of yours.
âThank you, love,â he murmured, before pushing himself up and off of you, moving to lay beside you. âGo ahead, moons.â
Remus flipped you over, apparently done with Jamesâ spent cock.
âHi darling,â he said, sitting next to you, face leaned down to kiss you. âSleep well?â
âMorning Remmy, yeah, I did, you?â Your voice was still airy, still affected by your orgasm.
âSlept like a prince, baby, loved waking up to your little moans about Jamieâs mouth,â he teased, leaning away from your face and straddling your chest. âAre you gonna let me fuck your face now, baby? It wonât take long, promise, just need your mouth right now.â
His words felt like a mocking of your dream and your words about James, but it was sexy nonetheless, turning you on again, leaning your head back against the pillow and allowing your mouth to fall open. Instead of answering verbally, your tongue fell out and you relaxed your throat, showing Remus that you were ready for him.
âSuch a good girl,â he said, raising his hips and feeding his cock into your mouth.
Focusing on your breathing and staying still and laxed for him, you allowed his cock into your mouth, his hips already stuttering from the feeling. His one hand was around his base and the other laid against your cheek, sometimes moving his cock to push against your cheek, feeling it with his hand.
Normally, you wouldnât allow Remus to fuck your face like this, his cock was too big and it always bruised the back of your throat, but he did say he would be quick â and he was. The hand against your cheek wiping away the first set of tears running down your face, and it was as if the contact of thumb and tear pulled him apart because he was spilling inside your throat, cock slightly vibrating, and spurting come, filling your entire mouth.âNow thatâs a good morning,â he murmured as he moved to lay beside you, kissing your entire face, licking into your mouth and tasting himself on your tongue. âLetâs get cleaned up, Iâll eat you out in the shower.â He added as a response to your groaning, not ready for the day to start.
#amathelia writes#mywriting#fanfic#marauders era#james potter#remus lupin#sirius black#smut#marauders#james potter smut#james potter x reader#Sirius black smut#Sirius Black x reader#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reder#poly!marauders smut#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin smut#absolute filth
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
to you, my greatest passion (soft yandere! batfam x traumatized! reader oneshot)
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
tw: allusions to stockholm syndrome, flawed relationship (they have no concept of boundaries) and mild descriptions of injuries and torture (not by the batfam). read until the end for an author's note. happy 4k followers to me :)) uh leave comments if u like this type of analysis and want to see more. i had no direction for writing this. please don't let this flop huhu i might delete this since i don't like it
as much as i love my angst, we all need something soft at times, and moments with yan!batfam with a reader who is absolutely fucking broken from their past that the mere implication that someone could love them is enough to let them melt into whoever's chest they lay upon that night.
just, hurt/comfort. one that heals the soul in its overly possessive embrace. the same way chapped lips peck softly on your cheeks, muscled arms caress your fragile, shivering body, and legs tangle upon yours in a cacophony of warm, cozy blankets.
where as the longer time passes in the manor, the more you learn to love. to let go of the painful memories your tormenters left you. to allow past scars to heal into a mere visage of what once was streaks coated in blood. your family acts as your new abductors, yes, but how could you hold your freedom against them when it is them that comfort you from drowning through the deepest depths of your nightmares?
nightmares of the past, of the knives that break through your already gashed skin, or the ropes that burn through bruises and lacerationâ every time you wake up crying, with tears running down your cheeks and a pained cry; a recollection of the torture you were subject to, it is them that come running to your room not a moment after.
it's bruce's tall, domineering form that crumbles into soft, snug pillows for you. your father arms that punches criminals into prison become the shoulder you lean on. calloused fingers rub your cheeks, wiping away your tears, holding your face in his palms like you're the most fragile thing on earthâ and you are. every time he looks at your dampened eyes and sniffling nose, he gets reminded of how lonely he was as a child, who lost his parent too young to the cruelty of the world, of gotham and her unyielding coldness. and when he reminisces, he begins to cage you in his arms a tad bit tighter, begins to comfort you longer and softer than he has ever done with anyone else, as if he is reassuring himself. it is with you that his vulnerability, that fear of loss becomes all too stronger. and every time you cry a bit longer, your hold on his sleeves becoming unyielding, does bruce become crueler in his pursuit of fighting crime, a lesson to himself that the people he punishes are those with hands capable enough to harm you, his precious, his pearl that glints throughout the moonlight.
whenever your father is unavailable, it's dick who runs to you, with all the intention to provide you comfort. it's him who calls you his baby bird, as he reassures you that you're no burden in his eyes every time you scream in terror as your sleep. it's him who loves to drown you in his affection, always near, always close, never far and never too much. physically, he's the most doting to a fault. tender, yet tight were his hugs. his kisses to your cheeks and your forehead always linger, as if hesitant to release itself from its rightful place. it's a testiment to how much he loves you, how he's incapable of separating himself from you. god, he loves you so much he wishes he'd just melt right into your skin, so that you actually finally realize how you're the most important thing in the world to him. you, his baby bird. if he had met you sooner, quite earlier, right after his parent's have died, then maybe he could've managed his anger better, could've learned to cope with you through the battles you both fought. it's with you that dick feel unbearably euphoric, ready to spill his love to the point where tears consume his eyes and his head laid on your chest refuses to detach itself.
jason isn't familiar with what warmth feels like, not anymore. but when he sees your hapless state, he sees a reflection of himself in that abandoned warehouse. broken, defiled, hurt. with nothing to comfort you from the cold other than the ropes that burn through your skin and the adrenaline that runs through your veins. he forgots what solace feels like, what it means, but through your shared trauma does jason learn. he learns to talk to you, with you, learns to pinpoint each and every emotion he felt at the time, what you felt inside that putrid basement. he learns to manage his grief because he doesn't want to anger himself looking at you, at just how much justice can only serve so many. the longer you talk to jason, the more he becomes softer, yet hungrier. he learns how to hold you in a way a brother learns to hold his baby sibling for the first time when conceived. he relearns the warmth he felt, like when he was finally able to be good enough to be the successor to the title of robin, when he felt you drool on his chest when you trusted him enough to sleep in his room. yet this time that feeling was accompanied with that ominous, distracting essence. one that makes jason's knuckles crack and have him prepare his guns, as he discovers that you can never truly erase the past. and even though it might take years for him to be your ideal brother, he could at least be your sole protector.
then there's tim, who never truly had the opportunity to develop that deeper sense of love he wanted to feel until he was officially adopted into the wayne family right after his parents' death. don't get him wrong, he loves his mom and dad, and so does he loves his current familyâ but it's obsession that drives him nonetheless. the need to prove himself, to gather information about everyone to know who they truly are; beyond that there's nothing more than shallowness, a neverending hole he can't satisfy. but with you? oh god, you. to tim, you're his everything. you devour his being whole. with you, there's always something new. the need to track every single thing about you leads him into this cycle of want and need that coagulates into desire, into drive. every time you smile, or laugh, or frown, he gains newer intel about you, one he loops into the deepest crevices of his brain at a constant, you are his constant. but staying right behind you can only do so much. and as he sits right beside you in bed, awkwardly comforting you through the ways he mirrored off from his brothers: a sloppy kiss to your knuckles, a joke cracked here and there, and wiping your eyes and nose with his sleeves; tim learns that stalking can only do so much. he learns what it feels like to be needed for emotional connection and nothing else and that only further motivates him to be perfect for you, and to be with you, his sibling, more often than to simply live right under your nose.
and damian, your baby brother, who's unsurprisingly the one who sleeps in your room, or has you sleep in his room, the most. damian tells himself he's incapable of love, of showing it or reciprocating it. but for you, he tries, and like jason, he learns. he discovers just how depraved both of you are when it comes to love. it enlightens you both and it makes damian feel a deeper sense of connection with you than anyone else. with you, he feels like a child: vulnerable, yet uncaring and free, like the true meaning of being a robin, one the soars through the skies with no grandfather or mother or league to watch your every step as their successor. all the times you cry, he silently sobs with you, holding your cheeks down to his level with scarred palms. silent, yet comforting, he'd allow his smaller form to simply become your teddy bear whilst he whispers consolations. about how strong his older sibling is, how precious you are for being comfortable with him to speak of your problems, how you're everything to damian just as he wishes to be the world for you. it makes you think you're more immature that him, it makes him grateful that he has you. even though he doesn't say it, he shows through actions just how truly important you are whenever he draws a sword towards his enemies, thinking about you and his unsaid promises.
nights where you're reminded of that solitary confinement, of the darkness that creeps into your vision and the voices that pierce through your ears. nights where you feel you've exhausted yourself of hope, where what was once warmth that hugs your heart is now that frigid, yet burning spikes that penetrates into the confidence that you'll somehow, someday, run away from that hellholeâ those were nights you thought you'd never live with proper sleep. but as one or two of them holds you in their embrace whenever your nightmares consume your being, you're slowly allowing your established walls to fall apart, all for the mere implication of their love.
who would save you, if not for them? their hushed whispers of consolation, hands that wrap around your figure, and fingers that knead your cheeks provide you that deep sated comfort you always wanted. the sleeves they use to wipe away both saltine liquid and snot, to slowly silence your blubbering rambles, your inconsolable crying; it's warmer than the basement you used to be locked in as a child, with dripping faucets the only source of your waterâ they saved you once before, who's to say they won't save you a thousand times more?
every time you feel like crying, every time that familiar faulty tap in your eyes begins to dampen against ashen skin, it's them that asks you if you're alright. even if you grit your teeth, even if you seeth or bite or beat or punch or kick, to punish yourself, to cope through the trauma, to not feel nothing.
every time pain begins to sear through your skin, it's your grandfather, father, brothers and sisters that huddle around you and tell you 'you're safe here, in the manor, with us'.
every time they spend hours, ditching patrol nights, cooking your comfort food, reading your favorite books, watching movies for hours, ignoring your assigned sleep schedule, kissing your scarred hands gently, reverently, cuddling your form against their strong ones as a silent promise that with them, there's nothing to harm you no moreâ you'd feel lighter every time, a tad happier, even. slowly, but surely, melting against the confines of your adorned cage and the embrace of your loving captors.
every time they help you heal, it makes you forgive, and it makes you forget their prior kidnapping in return of building new memories with them, in a safer haven, with nobody to hurt you any longer, with nobody to bash your head against concrete walls, to punish you. you who is underserving of the circumstances bought upon you back then.
safe, a word you thought you'll never feel, a word you didn't even know existed in the crevices of your heart. but it is with them that you slowly start to associate safe with family.
the family that you've come to love and cherish in your own imperfect ways, the same way a stray dog becomes too loyal to a passerby when given bones for leftovers every day.
but you're not an animal, and you're not a pavlovian dog meant to be conditioned. no, you're their baby, their love, their treasure and their only one. the love they feed you exceeds beyond leftovers. only you can devour them wholly, the same way they cloak your world in the love that fills that neverending pit in your heart.
you're not biologically related to any of them in any way, too. yet it was all a matter of coincidence that they stumbled upon you.
but really, past is past.
then is then.
now it's just you and them.
it's you, with them.
just your family. overbearing, overprotective, overpowering.
but nothing is always over to you. their love isn't too much. how could you tell yourself it's too much? not when you were never given a basis of what is too much. how is one too much when you were never even given enough?
trust is built upon a foundation of connecting with others who can relate with you one way or another, who can see past through your flaws and mistakesâ it's a bond that precedes mere acquaintanceship.
you might've met them later than everyone else, but it's you that completes them.
you're the puzzle that completes the family photographs, the goal for bruce to continue his legacy as batman and to ward off all evil, the inspiration for dick to be that aspiring hero everyone sees him to be, the reason jason begins to reform himself for your sake, the purpose for tim's endless pursuit of knowledge, the muse for damian's painting, the subject for his love he thought was no more, the ambition for steph's prolongation despite her countless of failures, the motivation for barbara to seek out all the criminals who have harmed you, the influence for cass to be stronger to protect you, the catalyst for duke to use his metahuman abilities for good, to take out those who walk in broad daylight, as if they weren't involved in your past tortures.
you're everything that they are.
their sunshine and moonlight, their companionship and loneliness, their pain and pleasure, their yin and yan.
their greatest passion.
a/n: hii guys erm. this is so sudden and also counts as a rant but yk... i feel like quitting this blog but at the same time not. it's just, i feel like writing has been more of an obligation than anything else. it doesn't help the fact that i've only been getting interaction if i were to actually produce something good. beyond that, it feels like people are expecting more of me. i get it, updates are sporadic, they appear in the blink of an eye when you least expect it, but at the same time it's just hard juggling what i want to write and what i feel like i need to write. this blog was primarily to post about my thoughts and to talk to people but lately, every time i open this app to write, i feel these plethora of thoughts and expectations telling me that if i don't do well enough then people would merely ignore whatever i post or it's just bad by standards. and yes i'm grateful for all the people supporting my writing, but at the same time i'm lead to a cycle of me losing my motivation to continue writing. ugh idk what im doing anymore help :((
tl;dr: will i stop writing? no, but at the same time i don't know. someday, i may deactivate this account out of impulse if i feel too much, or not. it depends hehe.
#đ·... yael's works#đ§... yael's misc.#yandere batfam#yandere batman#yandere bruce wayne#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere damian wayne#yandere barbara gordon#yandere stephanie brown#yandere cassandra cain#yandere duke thomas#platonic yandere#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x gn reader#yandere x male reader#yandere x female reader#soft yandere#yandere dc#male yandere#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#yandere x darling
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
One day, we were growing and maturing, dreaming and aspiring. We lived moments of joy and endured pain. We chased our desires and ventured into the fields of work. But now⊠our dreams have stopped, our aspirations have faded. Our world, once vast and open, has shrunk to a small, narrow space. From boundless skies to an unknown realm⊠This is what happened to my family after the devastating war uprooted their dreams, buried their ambitions, and obliterated their memories.
Today, my family endures the harsh experience of displacement, living in a tent for months on end. My younger sister describes the struggles of life in the tent: how it burns like an oven under the sun, suffocating and airless, with no means of cooling. The tent feels like a greenhouse during the day, leaving its residents to suffer from the extreme heat of summer without protection, and offering no shelter from the bitter cold of winter.
She mentions that our familyâs tent is set up on a small plot of farmland, forcing us to live amid reptiles, rodents, insects, and venomous snakes, with no basic standards of cleanliness. She adds that life in the tent is especially harsh for women. Itâs a place where even in the sweltering heat, they must stay fully dressed in outdoor clothes, with no freedom of movement. Everything happens inside the tent: lighting fires, cooking food, washing dishes, storing large containers of drinking water, and keeping water for bathing and daily cleaning. In essence, the tent means the loss of privacyâspeaking in whispers inside your tent, only to hear a response from your neighbor in the next one.
She goes on to say, âEvery time I moved with my family, I lost a thread of the privacy I hold dear as a woman. Displacement and homelessness became defining features of my life.â
I am Mahmoud Saleh, a young man appealing to you to look upon my torn and displaced family with mercy. Please grant them the chance to rebuild their lives in peace. I stand before your compassionate hearts, full of hope that you can help what remains of my family to secure a better life and to live in safety and security.
559 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'll Do Anything(JJK virginity loss headcanons)
warnings: virginity loss, unprotected sex, use of condoms(Nanami), mentions of cunnilingus/fem!oral sex, dub con(Sukuna), forced sex(Sukuna), dark themes(Sukuna) word count: 1.7k pairings: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader, Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader, Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader, Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader a/n: I'm so close to finishing up season one of JJK, so I just had to write more content! I hope you all enjoy!! Smut under the cut!
âPretty baby,â he coos softly as he slots himself between your thighs. âYou sure youâre ready? Iâm really big.â
You can barely make out what heâs saying. Heâs been between your thighs for what seemed like hours. You knew it was to make you more comfortable with losing your virginity to him, but part of you wonders if he takes pleasure in lapping at your cunt.
âSweetie, I need your consent.â Gojo reminds you, and you lick your lips. You look up at him, and those gorgeous eyes of his just pull you into a trance.
âReady for you, Gojo. âPromise âm ready for you,â
He smiles, âThatâs my good girl.â
Slowly, he lets his cockhead prod your tight hole. Youâre just dripping all over his swollen, red cockhead. It excites him to no end that youâre going to let him be your first. In his mind, thereâs no bigger stroke to his ego to have you cumming on his cock and knowing pleasure simply from him taking your virginity.
As he pushes more of himself into you, you swear you can feel your muscles beginning to give out. Itâs all too much for you. Your eyes screw shut as the thick cock slides into you inch by inch. Youâre panting as it reaches further into you. You didnât know it would be this good.Â
âOh, baby,â Gojo says, his tone teasing. âYou really are taking my cock so well.â
The words, you swear you hear them, but your brain is already so mush from all this lust that you arenât sure heâs speaking the same language as you. It doesnât take much for him to push the rest of his cock into you, and the moment it brushes against your cervix, you shudder.
âGojo, Iââ you whine. Your walls are contracting around him, making him grunt.Â
Your whole body shudders and shakes as you feel all this pleasure come over you. Youâve never experienced an orgasm quite like this. Itâs so much better than touching yourself or trying to make yourself cum with a vibrator. White hot pleasure is just coursing through you, making you whine and whimper.
Once youâve come down from your high, you look up at him. He blinks; those beautiful orbs so full of wonder but you can see mischief in this look as well.
âHuh,â Gojo ponders aloud. âYou just came, didnât you?â
Your cheeks burn, âGojoâŠâ
He leans in to kiss you, âNo need to be embarrassed. Thereâs more to come, sweetheart.â
He thinks you look so beautiful like this, all sprawled out on the bed. But thereâs this part of him that just wants to tease you for being so fucked out already. He hasnât even entered you, and youâre moaning just like a bitch in heat. Itâs honestly one of the most flattering things to him, and yet heâs trying not to let it get to his head too much.
âSuch a naughty baby,â He murmurs as he presses sloppy kisses up your body.
His lips capture yours as he slots himself between your thighs. You donât even have much time to react before heâs pushing his thick cock into you. Tears sting your eyes at the sensation of being stretched out like this. You push on his stomach, pleading for him to take it a little slower than he is.
âCome on,â he goads. âYou can take it,â
Youâre panting now, and the pleasure mixes in with the pain of being stretched out like this. You want to look down to make sure heâs not actually splitting you in half with his cock. But his forefinger and thumb capture your chin to make you look into his eyes. If he could have this moment ingrained in his memory forever, he would choose to do so. You look so precious to be losing your virginity just like this. Itâs exactly how Geto wanted it.
âYou can take it all, baby. I know you can.â
You whimper as he pushes even deeper into you. Your eyes cross as the pleasure keeps building inside of you. Your walls are clamping down against his cock, making him grunt at the sensation of your virgin pussy trying to milk him for all heâs got. He knows he wants this to last, but he wasnât counting on it feeling this good.Â
âLook at you,â Geto chuckles darkly. âYouâre a natural slut,â
You whine, âPlease,â
He laughs again, loving the effect this has on you. Who would've thought all he needed to tame your brattiness was just some cock? You were clearly so pent up, and now all he had to do was fuck you until youâre brattiness just disappeared.Â
âPlease what?â He asks, his tone mocking.
âMore, please.â
And with those words, Geto positions himself on his knees for a little more stability. With his hands on your hips, he begins pounding you into the mattress.
He canât help but feel enamored by the sweet sight of you on his bed like this. He canât remember the last time he felt this aroused. When you asked him to be your first, he was touched. Nanami knew he had to make this a moment that youâll never forget.
And he prepared for the night too. He took you out on a romantic date, bought some condoms and lube, and he made his bed extra comfortable for the two of you. By the time he has you back to his apartment, youâre already feeling pretty affectionate for the man. He was just so special to you, and you knew heâd treat you right.
You look up at him, smiling that sweet smile of yours. Everything that you do in this moment, it goes straight to his cock. Nanami reaches down to adjust himself in his underwear, then he turns his attention back to you.
âAre you ready, sweetheart?â He asks, reaching over to the bedside table for the box of condoms. You smile sweetly again. âYeah, Iâm ready,âÂ
He leans in to kiss you, and your tongues rub together sensually. Youâve never been more sure of something in your life than this. Youâve been in love with Nanami for so long, so when you were ready to lose your virginity, you knew it would have to be him youâd want to lose it to.
He undresses himself completely, and he spreads your thighs. As much as he wants to go in raw, he knows itâs not responsible. So he takes one of the foil packets from the box and tears it open. His eyes inspect the condom, and once he deems it acceptable, he begins rolling it onto his leaking cock.
You canât tear your eyes away from this scene. He looks so good doing something as simple as putting a condom on his cock. Itâs just the idea that the lewd act is coming. He grabs the bottle of lubricant from the bedside table and he smears a little of it onto the already lubed up condom. The rest of the lube goes onto your vulva, and he spreads it all over your tight hole and your swollen clit.
âTell me if you need me to stop,â Nanami says before pressing the tip of his cock to your hole.
A gasp falls from your lips as he begins pushing into you. It feels so good to be full like this. His eyes are scanning your features for any signs of pain, but you look so full of love right now. It really warms his heart.
âPlease, donât stop.â You whine, which earns you a sweet chuckle from Nanami. âI wasnât planning on it,â
As soon as his cock is inside of you fully, Nanami knows that he can start thrusting slowly. He sees the love in your eyes, and he knows he made the right choice in being your first.
Sukuna absolutely loves being able to fuck virgins. But there is something extremely special about you. Heâs not even sure what it is, but youâre just so adorable and sweet. He usually thinks himself better than to fall into this kind of affection, but the way you keep clinging to him makes him a little dizzy with lust.
âOh, you are just asking for it,â Sukuna comments, and his fingers go down to your pussy once more.
Youâve been sitting on his lap for what feels like forever now, and heâs been so eager to just let you have all this pleasure. Whether it be with mouths or with his fingers, heâs happily had you cumming for hours now. Youâve made such a stain on his pants, and the smell of you is just permeating the air. Youâre barely coherent now, but you want to hang on. You want more than just cumming on his fingers or on his tongues.
âYou want my cock now, donât you?â He asks, though he knows you donât have much choice in the matter. Youâll be taking his cock whether you like it or not.
But you nod so obediently, âYes yes yes, please!â
A delirious laughter rumbles through him. You remind him of the reason he loves virgins so much. They become so caught up in all the pleasure that they forget that they have to give away a part of themselves to him.
âThatâs a good girl,â his voice is thick with a mocking tone. âI knew youâd want it.â
With one of his hands, he holds you up. The other hand begins undoing his pants quickly. He wants to be buried deep inside of you as soon as he can. His cock slaps against his abdomen as soon as heâs got it freed from the confines of his pants. You barely have time to react as he sinks you down onto the immense girth.
You scream his name as the sensations of his cock splitting you in two hit you. Itâs all so intense at once. Sukuna smirks as he watches you squirm and wiggle, almost trying to get off of his cock. But he keeps his hands on your hips, practically locking you onto him. Before you know it, heâs bouncing you up and down on his thick girth.
âGanbare, ganbare,â Sukuna teases. His thumb wipes a stray tear from your cheek. âYouâre doing so good for me, hehehehehehâŠâ
He throws his head back as the pleasure of your virgin cunt overwhelms him. Heâll gladly keep you right on his cock for eternity if he chooses to do so.
#bacon.writes#jjk fanfiction#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x fem!reader#geto x you#geto x reader#geto x fem!reader#nanami x you#nanami x reader#nanami x fem!reader#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x fem!reader#jjk smut#gojo smut#geto smut#nanami smut#sukuna smut
14K notes
·
View notes