#let's not rush into things! waiting for the story to unfold is part of what does a character justice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bangtanficsforyou · 16 days ago

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The One (JJK)- 01

Pairing: Jungkook x OC (reader)

Genre: angst, fluff, maybe smut?

Au: soulmate au.

Rating: 18+

Summary: Jungkook is your next-door neighbour, friend, batchmate and well…..soulmate. You never told him that though. Why? Because he despises the idea of soulmates.

Word Count: 10.1K

A/N: i had to split part one one of this into two parts on my patreon because there was a glitch. Just keeping that in respect, I'm splitting it here as well into two parts. Rest assured, I'll upload the remaining of part one in a couple of days.

Masterlist | Patreon

You never told him.

You never told Jungkook that you and him share the same mark—his on the collarbone while yours, on your hip bone. You never told him that everytime he casually touches his soulmate mark—it sends shivers down your spine. You never told him that you are his soulmate.

How could you? Jungkook had made it clear—more times than you could count—that he despised the very idea of soulmates. And he never said it with any particular bitterness, never with the weight of some tragic backstory. No, he mentioned it the way someone would complain about rainy weather—offhanded, careless, like it was simply a matter of fact. A personal opinion, that perhaps had no changing in the near foreseeable future.

��People act like a matching mark is some grand love story,” he had scoffed once, stretching lazily in his seat. “Like it actually means something. It’s just a mark. Nothing more.”

You had laughed along with your friends then, masking the way your stomach twisted, the way your fingers curled into your sleeves.

Because it did mean something.

At least, it had—before you saw that familiar mark inked across Jungkook’s collarbone, before you realized what the universe had decided for you. Before you understood that he would never accept it.

And that left you with one choice: pretend.

Pretend that the mark on your hip didn’t exist. Pretend that your heart didn’t clench every time your eyes landed on his mark, exposed so casually like some cruel joke. Pretend that it wasn’t eating you alive.

At first, you thought you might tell him.

You remembered the way your parents spoke about their soulmarks—how your mother had traced the pattern on her wrist with soft, reverent fingers, how your father had smiled at her like she was the greatest thing he had ever known.

You had dreamed of that. You had waited for the moment your own mark would appear, for the rush of excitement when you found the person who carried its twin.

But now? Now it was a secret you had to bury.

Because Jungkook wasn’t just some stranger. He was a friend—a common friend at that. If you told him, it wouldn’t just ruin whatever fragile bond existed between you two. It would make things awkward for everyone. And when he inevitably rejected the very idea of you, you would have to face the pitiful gazes of the people you loved, the whispered sympathies, the unbearable weight of being that person.

The one who got their heart broken by fate itself.

So, you said nothing.

For the first few months, you pretended to be normal.

You hung out with your group of friends—Jungkook included—and acted like nothing had changed. Like you weren’t constantly aware of the mark hidden beneath your clothes. Like you didn’t know what you knew.

You thought that if you could just control this, if you could play your role well enough, then maybe—maybe—it wouldn’t hurt. You wouldn’t let yourself get too vulnerable, wouldn’t let yourself get too attached, wouldn’t let yourself end up heartbroken.

You had no clue how things would unfold, but you knew one thing and that was—-you needed to protect yourself. You knew how much you had dreamt of the day that you would find your soulmate and given the current circumstances, you knew how much potential it held to absolutely break you.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

At the start of the new semester, when the professor began calling out lab pairings, you were only half-listening. The assignment was random—just names pulled from a list. You weren’t expecting anything, weren’t particularly concerned.

And then—

“Jeon Jungkook and Y/N.”

Your stomach dropped.

Your friends nudged you playfully, completely oblivious to the way your entire body had locked up.

“Oh, lucky! Jungkook’s actually good at this stuff,” someone teased, thinking nothing of it.

You forced a smile, nodding as if your heart wasn’t suddenly hammering against your ribs.

Because what the hell?

This was the exact situation you had been trying to avoid—being alone with him, being forced into close proximity. What if it changed things? What if the moment you were next to him, something happened? Some unbearable, all-consuming longing? Some weird soulmate-induced butterflies?

You barely had time to gather yourself before Jungkook strolled over to where you sat, dropping into the seat beside you with the easy confidence, he seemed to carry around all the time.

“Guess we’re stuck together,” he said, grinning, blissfully oblivious.

Your body went rigid, scared to even take a breath.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

You blinked, realizing you had been staring. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He nodded, already flipping through the lab manual, completely unaware of the storm in your head.

Meanwhile, you sat frozen, fingers brushing absentmindedly over your hip.

Because you weren’t sure what had just happened. You weren’t sure what it meant.

Maybe fate had betrayed you.

Or maybe—maybe—it had plans you still couldn’t understand.

And where that would ultimately lead you, you had no idea.

You get to the lab early.

Not because you're eager, but because you need time to prepare yourself—to get used to the idea that, for the rest of the semester, you're going to be spending a lot of time working side by side with Jungkook.

Your soulmate.

The title feels ridiculous in your head, especially since it's one-sided. And you’ve spent the past few months pretending it doesn’t exist, doing a pretty damn good job of keeping things normal. But this…..this might be pushing your luck.

How do you pretend that everything is fine and dandy and normal and chill, when your fucking soulmate is your lab partner? The same soulmate who does not like the idea of soulmates?

You tap your pen restlessly against the blank page of your notebook, telling yourself you’re overthinking. It’s just lab. Chemistry lab, at that! The only thing brewing would be those stupid smelling solutions. There is nothing, nothing to be nervous about.

—and this is just Jungkook. The same Jungkook you have known since ages. There is nothing that could go wrong. You both were friends before, you are friends now and you would walk out of this lab at the end of semester as friends.

Well except for the fact that now you know that he is your soulmate.

The very unnecessary reminder makes you groan internally and you wonder why on earth did things have to be like this? Geez, why couldn’t someone like you be your soulmate? Why did it have to be Jungkook?

The friendship between you and Jungkook was simple, for a lack of a better word. You weren't best friends, but you weren't strangers either. You are the kind of friends who have shared a lot of common space due to the people in your lives.

Never too close, though, just the right amount that you two could fall under the category of “friends”.

Now though, on one hand you risk having a heartbreak and being the object of everyone’s pity and on the other, you risk messing up with the group’s dynamic as a whole. You feel like you are stuck between a rock and a hard place.

You are lost in your thoughts when Jungkook walks in—late.

Not late enough to be dramatic, but late enough that you’re already sighing and shaking your head before he even reaches the desk.

“Wow.” You glance at the clock, trying to behave as normal as you possibly can. “First day, and you’re already slacking?”

Jungkook smirks as he sets his notebook down next to yours. “Relax. I made it before the professor. That still counts.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue because, well, he had a point.

He looks effortless as always—hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows, a silver chain around his neck catching the light, the faintest hint of a dimple appearing as he grins at you like being late is a charming personality trait. You ignore the way your eyes briefly flicker to his collarbone before snapping back up. To his face. Look at his face.

“You should still try to be on time,” you mutter, flipping through your notes. “It’s just the first week. Imagine when we have actual work to do.”

Jungkook chuckles, dropping into the seat beside you. “So serious already. You’re making me nervous.”

“Good. You should be nervous,” you deadpan, but your lips twitch slightly when he laughs under his breath.

For a moment, things feel normal.

And then the actual lab work begins.

You quickly realize that working with Jungkook is nothing like you expected.

For one, he’s annoyingly good at this.

You knew he was smart, sure, but you didn’t expect him to be so methodical about everything. The way he sets up the materials, how precise his measurements are—like he isn’t just coasting through the assignment but actually taking his time with it.

Meanwhile, you’re struggling.

It’s not like you’re bad at chemistry practicals, but compared to him? It’s like watching someone fluent in another language while you fumble with the vowels. You’re re-reading the instructions for the third time when Jungkook leans closer, glancing at your side of the table.

“You’re overthinking.”

“I am not overthinking,” you say immediately, an instant result of the defensiveness you came prepared with.

He lifts a brow, unconvinced. “Yeah? Then why are you second-guessing every step?”

“I’m just being careful,” you huff, but you can feel the frustration creeping in.

Jungkook, apparently, has no patience for this.

Before you can react, he reaches over and adjusts the beurette—turning the stopcock just a little, and your body freezes.

Not because of the proximity. Not because of anything romantic or soulmate-related. But because your hands brush.

It’s brief—barely a second—but it sends a weird jolt up your spine. And your reaction is embarrassingly fast: you snatch your hand away like he just zapped you with electricity.

Jungkook pauses. Looks up. And then blinks at you.

“Dude,” he says, brow furrowing slightly. “Chill. I’m not gonna bite.”

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to relax and trying to play it cool—although you think it might be a little late for that. “I know that.”

“Do you?” His lips quirk into an amused smirk. “’Cause you look like I just told you I’m about to murder you in cold blood.”

“I do not look like that.” You are sure you do.

He tilts his head. “You kinda do.”

You scowl, but he just laughs, shaking his head as he goes back to what he was doing.

“Relax. I got you.”

The words shouldn’t make your stomach flip. They shouldn’t.

But for some reason, they do.

So you force yourself to focus.

For the next few minutes, you both work in silence, the sounds of other students filling the room—the clinking of glassware, the scratch of pens against paper, the occasional murmured conversations. Jungkook doesn’t say much, but you can hear the faint, absentminded hum under his breath. It’s something he does when he’s focused. You’ve heard it before.

But for some reason, sitting this close, it makes you notice him more. Perhaps, it's also plain curiosity.

Only, you never thought you'd have to steal glances of your soulmate, like a thief.

You take notice of the way he chews on the tip of his pen when he’s thinking. The way his brows knit together slightly when he writes something down. The way his sleeves keep slipping down his arms, and he shoves them back up in a way that seems unconscious, routine.

You hate that you notice.

So you keep your head down, determined to push through the rest of the lab without another incident. And for a while, it works. You don’t overreact when he hands you a test tube. You don’t freeze up when he leans over to check your notes. You don’t even flinch when he nudges your foot under the table to get your attention.

It’s fine. Everything is fine.

Until you make a mistake.

It’s minor, really—just a miscalculation in the measurements. But you notice it too late, and when you do, you let out a frustrated sigh, dropping your head against the desk with a dull thud.

Jungkook, of course, immediately notices.

“Hey.” You feel the tip of his pen poke your arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I messed up,” you mumble against the desk.

Jungkook laughs, taking a note of the solution in your test tube that looks like an entirely different shade than the colour it should actually look like. “Yeah, I figured. But it’s not a big deal. We can fix it.”

You groan dramatically. “I hate this.”

“No, you just hate being wrong,” he corrects, smirking.

You lift your head just enough to glare at him. “That’s not true.”

“Hmm.” He doesn’t look convinced. “Alright. If you say so.”

You narrow your eyes. “I don’t like that tone.”

He grins. “What tone?”

You sigh, straightening up. “You are so annoying.”

“And yet, you’re stuck with me.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. Probably, in more ways than he realizes.

So you swallow down your frustration, focus on fixing your mistake, and ignore the warmth still lingering on your skin from where his hand had brushed yours earlier.

And most importantly, you try to push down the strangest realization of all—

That even though you’ve spent months pretending that the soulmark does not exist, being wary of Jungkook and pretending that you can control this—

Being his lab partner is starting to make you wonder if fate is laughing at you.

Because this is supposed to be hard. Overwhelming. But instead, being with him feels… natural. Safe.

It does not feel anything out of the ordinary. Jungkook still feels like him and you, well you feel like you.

There are no soulmate induced butterflies, no weird nervousness, no intense longing.

It feels incredibly normal and at place.

And that’s the part that scares you the most.

The tension in the room is unbearable.

You sit on the floor, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, your entire focus honed in on the screen. It’s the final over, and the match has reached its peak. The stadium on TV is roaring, the energy so contagious it feels like you can hear it echoing in Namjoon’s living room.

Six balls. Twelve runs needed.

Alex grips the armrest of the couch like her life depends on it. “If they screw this up, I swear—”

“They won’t,” you interrupt, eyes never leaving the screen. “They just need one boundary here, and—”

The bowler starts his run-up, the camera zooming in on the batsman’s intense expression. Everyone in the room holds their breath.

He bowls—fast, full, and straight. The batsman swings hard—

And misses.

"NOOOO!" Taehyung screams, falling back dramatically.

Namjoon curses under his breath, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Are you fucking kidding me? They wasted a whole ball?”

Your heart pounds as the next delivery comes. The batsman gets a slight edge, and the ball trickles toward third man—only one run taken.

Five balls. Eleven runs needed.

The room is absolute chaos.

Lucy is sitting with her hands clasped like she’s praying. Alex is chewing on her thumbnail, while Taehyung is muttering something that sounds suspiciously like a threat to the umpire.

Jungkook sits beside you, relaxed, one arm draped over the back of the couch. He’s the only one who doesn’t look like he’s having an emotional breakdown.

The bowler comes in again. A perfectly timed shot—four!

The room erupts. Namjoon jumps up, nearly knocking over the popcorn bowl. You let out a loud cheer, slapping the cushion beside you in excitement. “That’s it! That’s what they needed!”

Four balls. Seven runs needed.

The tension is unreal. Every second feels stretched, the anticipation thick in the air. Your fingers tighten around the cushion in your lap. The bowler wipes his forehead, the batsman adjusts his gloves.

The ball is bowled—another boundary!

Three balls. Three runs needed.

The entire room is screaming. The players on TV are discussing strategy. You sit up straighter, completely locked in.

The bowler steps back. The batsman takes position. The fielders spread out.

The delivery is in—a quick single!

Two balls. Two runs needed.

Your entire body is tense. One good shot, and the match is over. One mistake, and—

The bowler charges in—faster this time. The batsman swings—and misses!

A collective scream of frustration rings through the room.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Alex shouts at the TV.

Namjoon throws a pillow across the room. “One damn ball left, two runs! This is insane!”

Your heartbeat is so loud you can barely hear the commentators. You lean forward, hands clasped together as the final ball is about to be bowled.

The bowler runs up. The batsman tightens his grip on the bat.

One ball. Two runs needed.

The ball is released—fast, accurate, aimed right at the stumps.

The batsman swings—connects—the ball races toward the boundary—

AND STOPS JUST BEFORE THE LINE.

"NOOOO!" Taehyung shrieks.

They only take a single. A tie. The room breaks into another fit of chaos as everyone starts venting their frustration and disbelief.

Your hands fly to your head. “You’ve got to be kidding me! One more run and we—”

A small mumble interrupts your rant.

"Football is so much better than this."

Your head snaps around, ready to fight whoever dared to say such stupid words.

And you see that the culprit is none other than Jungkook.

You whip your head around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash.

Jungkook, completely unfazed by the absolute blasphemy he just uttered, casually reclines against the couch, as if he hasn’t just insulted the very foundation of your sports-watching existence.

You glare at him, brief but sharp. He catches it immediately, quirking a brow before mouthing, What?

You shake your head. There are bigger things at stake right now—like the fate of this match, which is about to go into a Super Over. You have no time to school someone on basic logic when cricket is right there, demanding your full attention.

But Jungkook, apparently sensing a golden opportunity, takes advantage of the small break before the Super Over begins. He scoots closer, his knee almost brushing against yours, and says in an utterly offensive whisper,

“You cannot seriously think this is better than football.”

Your head snaps toward him so fast it’s a miracle you don’t pull a muscle. “I absolutely can.”

Jungkook gives you a look, one that suggests you’ve just claimed the sky is green and gravity is optional.

“How? How on earth is this better? They’ve been playing for hours and it still isn’t over.” He gestures to the TV like it personally owes him an apology. “Now they’re just… playing more to figure out who won? What kind of sense does that make?”

You gasp so loudly Taehyung side-eyes you from across the room.

“Excuse you—” You turn fully to face Jungkook, scandalized. “This is strategy. This is patience. This is mind games. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Mind games?” He snorts. “They just stand around half the time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather prefer some twenty men to run on the field, all the time?” You sharp shortly. You’re not one to take digs at someone’s sports choices but well, Jungkook did cross a line.

Jungkook smirks. “Might make it more entertaining.”

You let out a deeply frustrated noise, rubbing your temples like you’ve just been told water isn’t wet. “Football fans are so dramatic.”

“Says the person who just looked like they were about to cry over a tied match.”

You nearly choke on your own disbelief. “THAT IS A VALID REACTION!”

Jungkook shrugs, the absolute audacity of him. “In football, you know who’s winning the entire time. No weird point system. No ‘Oh, let’s keep playing until someone wins’ nonsense. Just pure skill.”

Your jaw drops. “So you’re telling me penalty shootouts make more sense?”

“YES!”

You clutch your chest like he just stabbed you. “You disgust me.”

He grins. “Glad we’re finally being honest.”

You dramatically turn away from him, waving a hand in dismissal. “You know what? I refuse to engage in this ridiculous debate. Cricket is superior, football is just running back and forth like a bunch of headless chickens, and that’s that.”

Jungkook lets out a mocked gasp. “I can’t believe you just disrespected the beautiful game like that.”

“I can’t believe the universe thought you were a functional human being.” No, but like seriously universe, you give me a soulmate who does not appreciate cricket for the art that is? Geez!

Jungkook laughs, and it’s annoyingly attractive, which makes this whole situation so much worse. You huff and turn your attention back to the screen. You need to focus—Super Over is about to start.

But from the corner of your eye, you can feel Jungkook still watching you, the amused smirk never leaving his face.

You have shared quite a few classes with Jungkook, now. You have gotten used to his presence, in fact. You have also gotten used to the fact that it doesn't feel unusual to be around him. Jungkook is still the very same Jungkook you knew before the revelation of your soulmark.

You have oddly gotten used to him. It doesn't feel anything out of the ordinary, if anything it feels quite natural, at this point.

It takes some another ten minutes for the two teams to discuss strategies and get padded up.

The room is electric, again. Tension coils in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. No one is sitting anymore—everyone is either pacing, perched on the edge of the couch, or gripping whatever they can find.

Namjoon has his hands in his hair. Taehyung looks like he’s about to pass out. Jimin is muttering prayers under his breath.

And you?

You’re practically vibrating.

The super over progresses and it comes to a point where your team needs just one more run. One single run. You feel like you might actually combust from the sheer agony of this moment.

Jungkook watches you, arms crossed, but there’s an amused glint in his eyes. He still thinks football is superior (wrong), but even he has to admit—this tension is kind of entertaining.

The bowler runs up. The entire room holds its breath. The ball is delivered— BANG!

The batsman swings. The ball soars through the air.

And then—

CRACK

The sound of the ball hitting the boundary is nearly drowned out by the collective scream that erupts in the room.

You don’t think. You react.

A shriek of pure, unfiltered joy leaves your mouth as you jump up, bouncing on your toes like a little kid. Your hands fly to your head in disbelief before you grab onto Lucy’s arms and scream into the void. “WE WON! WE ACTUALLY—” You turn wildly, seeking someone, anyone to share this moment with—

And then your eyes meet Jungkook’s.

For a second, you freeze.

Because he’s smiling.

Not in a smug, I-knew-this-would-happen way. Not in a polite, good-for-you way.

But in a real, genuine way. The kind that reaches his eyes, that crinkles slightly at the edges, that lingers even though he has no reason to actually care about this match.

It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment.

A second later, he coughs, masking it with a casual roll of his eyes. “You’re acting like you were the one who hit the winning shot.”

You scoff, regaining your breath. “Excuse me, I manifested that win. I was emotionally on the field.”

Jungkook snorts. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

But his eyes? They are still soft.

The car hums quietly as it pulls away from Namjoon’s place, the streetlights casting soft streaks of gold against the window. You’re still basking in the afterglow of the match, a satisfied smile lingering on your lips as you watch the world blur past.

With Jungkook living only two blocks from you, it was only convenient that you two share a cab.

It has been this way since ages, really. Anytime your friend group would hang out, it was you and Jungkook either going together or leaving the place together. Sometimes, both. It was just convenient that way.

The silence isn’t awkward. If anything, it’s peaceful, a quiet bubble that neither of you feel the need to break. The excitement of the game still thrums in your veins, like a distant echo of a song you don’t want to end just yet.

Then—

“You really love cricket, huh?”

You turn your head to Jungkook, who’s sitting beside you, his voice laced with quiet curiosity. His elbow rests against the window, fingers idly tapping against his knee.

You smirk. “Took you this long to figure that out?”

He huffs a small laugh.

“No, I mean, I get liking a sport. But you—” he gestures vaguely, lips twitching, “—you light up when you talk about it. Like, really light up.”

Your smirk softens just a little.

“I don’t know,” you say, leaning back against the seat. “It’s just... fun.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “That is the grand reason?”

You roll your eyes. “What do you want me to say? That cricket is my spiritual calling?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, smartass. When did you actually start liking it?”

Your fingers brush against the window, tracing invisible patterns against the cold glass.

“My grandfather,” you admit after a beat. “He’s the one who got me into it.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s listening.

A small smile tugs at your lips as memories flicker in your mind—soft, golden-hued moments from a time that feels both distant and close.

“You know, I used to hate cricket?” you confess, turning to him. “Because whenever there was a match, it meant my cartoons got cut off. And obviously, cartoons were more important.”

Jungkook snorts. “Of course.”

“But one day, there was this big final match between our team and the opponent. I was whining about missing my show, and my grandfather—” you pause, your smile growing fonder, “—he made a deal with me. If our team won, he’d get me the biggest ice cream tub he could find.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker with amusement. “So you only watched for the ice cream?”

“Damn right, I did.” You grin, all proud. “I didn’t know anything about cricket back then, but suddenly, I was invested. I was praying for our team to win, sitting on the edge of the couch, yelling whenever my grandfather did—like I even understood what was happening.”

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head. “That’s honestly adorable.”

You shrug, the warmth in your chest growing. “And then... we did win.”

He watches you as you speak, his expression softer now, like he’s seeing something in you he hasn’t seen before.

“My grandfather got me the ice cream,” you continue, voice quieter now, “but more than that... it became our thing. Watching matches together. Celebrating wins, getting grumpy over losses. He taught me the rules, told me about all the legendary players. And somewhere along the way, I stopped watching for ice cream and started watching because I loved it.”

The car is silent for a moment, save for the faint hum of the engine.

Jungkook doesn’t speak right away, but when he does, his voice is softer than before.

“That’s... really nice,” he says. “Like, the kind of memory you hold onto forever.”

You nod, staring back out the window. “Yeah. It is.”

The silence returns, but this time, it feels even more comfortable. There’s something new in the air—not tension, not awkwardness, just... a quiet understanding.

Jungkook doesn’t push for more, and you don’t feel the need to explain anything else.

And as the car continues down the road, you realize something—

This is the first time you and Jungkook have ever had a conversation like this. No teasing, no playful bickering, no horrid smell of solutions boiling.

Just talking.

The classroom smelled of soil and plants, a result of the current lecture your professor was in the middle of: asexual reproduction in plants.

One would think that this stuff would be over and limited to high school, but no, here you are studying this all over again and in much much depth, in your college.

You were trying to pay attention. Really, you were. But the soft tap, tap, tap of Namjoon’s pen against his notebook was beginning to get on your nerves.

It was his thinking habit—you had known him long enough to recognize it. Tap, tap, tap—usually followed by an unnecessarily deep statement or a completely off-topic confession.

You sighed and risked a glance to your right.

Namjoon was not taking notes. In fact, his notebook was completely blank, except for a few scribbles here and there, a small little heart and smiley emoji that you think looks a little eerie.

Namjoon not taking notes in botany class is serious. If you know anything about this man, it's the fact that he loves botany with his entire being.

His chin was resting on his palm, his gaze unfocused, his expression dreamy.

Oh no.

Almost as if feeling your gaze, he breaks the silence.

"I think I might be in love with Susy," he whispered suddenly.

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Shhh!" He shot you a panicked look before sneaking a glance toward the front of the class, where Susy sat, diligently writing down every word the professor said. Unlike your beloved friend. "Not so loud! What if she hears you?"

You rolled your eyes. "Namjoon, we are in the middle of a lecture about plant reproduction. I doubt she’s eavesdropping on your romantic crisis."

Namjoon, however, was undeterred.

Instead, he sighed dramatically, gripping his pen like it physically pained him to hold in his emotions. "Look at her. She’s so… focused. So responsible. So…" His voice grew softer. "So out of my league."

"Oh my god." You stifled a laugh. "Namjoon, she’s literally just taking notes."

"Exactly!" He clutched his chest in mock agony. "A woman of wisdom. A woman of intellect. I am but a mere fool in comparison."

You smacked his arm lightly with your notebook. "Snap out of it, Shakespeare."

Namjoon chuckled, but then, as if struck by a sudden thought, his expression turned pensive. "You think she could be my soulmate? I mean, what are the chances?"

Soulmate.

The word sent a jolt through you.

It was strange. You had heard the word countless times, had thought about it even more. But right now, sitting in this classroom surrounded by potted plants and the faint smell of fertilizer, it hit differently.

For months, you had carried this secret alone. You had shoved it into the farthest corners of your mind, convincing yourself that it didn’t matter, that it was better this way. But Namjoon’s words—so casual, so hopeful—stirred something inside you.

For a brief second, you thought about brushing it off. About letting the conversation slip past like all the other soulmate talk you had ignored.

But there was no denying that lately, everything felt more and more confusing to you. You were confused because nothing felt different. But then again, what were you to make of the little sparks of curiosity you feel towards Jungkook?

After the conversation you shared with him in the cab, your mind kept wondering what Jungkook is actually like, underneath the Jungkook you know on a surface level? What are his stories? What is he actually like as a person?

It felt incredibly confusing to you because even though you do find yourself feeling curious in getting to know Jungkook better, you do not find it to be something that is induced by the mark on your hip bone.

Not to mention these questions can later turn out to be dangerous, for your heart and soul.

And boy oh boy, is it frustrating to deal with these thoughts all by yourself. You do not know what is right and what is wrong. Everything is just confusing.

You hesitate, fingers tightening around your pen. Then, keeping your voice low, you turn to him.

Lowering your voice, you glance at him.

"Namjoon, I think there's something you need to know." As soon as the words slipped out, doubt rushed in, crashing over you like a wave. Despite that, you push through it. "I got my soulmate mark.”

At first, Namjoon didn’t react. He was still half-distracted, twirling his pen between his fingers—lost in Susy world—as if your words hadn’t quite registered. Then, after a beat, his eyes snapped to you, widening in slow realization.

"What?" he blurted out—loudly.

A few heads turned and then a lot of heads turned.

Including Susy’s.

Even the professor paused mid-sentence, lowering his marker and narrowing his eyes at Namjoon.

"Care to enlighten the rest of us, Mr. Kim?"

Namjoon sank lower in his chair, his face turning a shade redder. "No, sir," he mumbled, avoiding Susy's gaze—though she was still watching him, lips curled in quiet amusement.

The professor studied him for a beat longer, something stern flickering in his expression, then turned back to the board and picked up where he'd left off—seed dispersal. Slowly, the class returned to normal, attention shifting away from you both.

But Namjoon? Oh, he was not letting this go.

Leaning in closer, he whispered urgently, "What? When? How?"

You let out a small sigh, gripping your pen tighter. You should have known he’d be this dramatic.

"A few months ago," you admitted, voice hushed. "During summer break."

"No way!" He grinned, his face lighting up with joy. "Dude, that’s amazing! You were so excited for this! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?"

Your face dropped, the action involuntary. Here comes the hard part.

"Wait," he said, tilting his head to express his confusion. "Why do you look like you drank sour milk?"

This was it.

You inhaled deeply, pressing your lips together before mumbling, "I know who it is."

Namjoon blinked and then his face lit up again, this time with curiosity and excitement.

"Oh my god," he whispered excitedly. "Is it a celebrity? Is it Chris Evans?! Or Henry Cavill?"

You gave him the flattest look imaginable.

"Okay, okay, maybe not Chris Evans or Henry," he conceded, grinning. "But, like, someone famous? Or, wait—is it something scandalous?"

You just stared at him, debating if you should just let him spiral through every wild possibility before finally putting him out of his misery.

But then he grabbed your wrist, eyes wide with anticipation. "It’s not Professor Choi, right?!"

You choked on your own breath. "What?! NO!"

Namjoon sighed in exaggerated relief. "Okay, good. Because that would have been concerning—"

"It’s Jungkook," you cut in quietly.

Namjoon stopped mid-sentence.

Froze completely.

Didn’t even blink.

For a second, you honestly wondered if his brain had just shorted out.

He stayed completely still, then let out a slow breath and leaned back, like everything had just landed on him all at once and he needed a second to catch up.

"...Oh," he said at last.

You nodded.

"Oh," he repeated, but slower.

"Yeah."

Namjoon blinked, then let out a small, disbelieving laugh. "Huh."

You waited.

Then, he suddenly gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth. "OH."

There it was.

You dropped your head onto your desk with a groan. "Please don’t make a scene again."

Namjoon, however, was already spiraling.

"This—THIS is huge," he whispered-yelled, gripping your sleeve. "Jungkook?! As in, our friend Jungkook?"

You exhaled sharply. "Yes, that Jungkook."

Namjoon started to say something, then stopped, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Dude. That’s wild. Does he even know?”

You shot him a look, lifting your head just enough to make your silence loud. “What do you think?”

His eyes went wide. "Oh my god."

And just like that, your secret was now his crisis.

As soon as you and Namjoon leave the classroom, he hooks his fingers around your arm and steers you toward the quieter end of the hallway. Voices from other students still float in the background, full of leftover energy from the lecture, but over here, it’s muted — almost like the rest of the world’s taken a step back.

Namjoon’s got that look — brows scrunched, arms folded tight, the kind of look that means you’re not getting away without answering.

“All right,” he says, not bothering to soften his tone. “Tell me why you’ve never told Jungkook he’s your soulmate.”

You let out a long breath, fingers instinctively going to the back of your neck. “Because,” you mutter, “I’d rather not watch him completely destroy my heart, that’s why.”

He blinks. “That’s dramatic.”

“I am dramatic.” You exhale sharply, now leaning against the wall. “You know what he thinks about soulmates. He doesn’t believe in it. Does not want to believe in it. If I told him, he’d just…” You swallow, looking away. “He’d just push me away.”

Namjoon is silent for a moment, just watching you. And then, finally, he sighs. “I get it. I do. You’re scared. And honestly? I don’t blame you,” he says, shrugging a little. Then he tilts his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up like he’s about to say something smug. “But have you ever thought that maybe—just maybe—you’re underestimating the universe?”

You let out a short laugh. “What, you are suddenly going to preach to me about fate and destiny?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. But think about it—you’re Jungkook’s soulmate, right? Which means there has to be some reason for that. The universe doesn’t just do things randomly.”

You raise a brow. “Are you sure? Because it sure feels like it threw me into a cosmic joke.”

Namjoon laughs, shaking his head. “Listen. He’s your soulmate, which means there’s something there. And more importantly—he doesn’t know about it.”

You narrow your eyes. “And that helps me how?”

“It means that if he falls for you, it’s not because of the mark. It’s because of you.” Namjoon’s voice softens. “Think about it. Right now, nothing is forcing him to like you. He doesn’t know you’re soulmates. But what if—just what if—he falls for you anyway?”

Your heart stumbles in your chest.

You hadn’t let yourself consider that possibility before. You had been so focused on keeping the truth from him, so convinced that his rejection was inevitable, that you had never once stopped to think—

What if he falls for me on his own?

What if, without the universe’s interference, without fate pushing him, without a mark binding you two together—what if he chooses you?

It’s dangerous, this thought. It cracks open something in your chest, something you had been trying to keep locked away.

Namjoon sees the look on your face and grins. “See? You’re thinking about it now.”

You groan, pushing at his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“I get that it’s scary,” he says, a little softer this time, a little gentler. “But maybe, you need to have a little faith. Maybe things won’t fall apart. Maybe they’ll turn out better than you ever thought.”

You draw in a slow breath, trying to make space for his words — letting them sink in, even if part of you still resists.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

And for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to entertain the possibility of this, not ending in a heartbreak. .

The moment you step out of the chemistry lab, you’re still caught up in the conversation, discussing how to not mess up the semester-long project you and Jungkook have been assigned.

"We should probably plan a schedule," you say, shifting your bag on your shoulder as the two of you walk down the corridor. "Small shifts, maybe? So we don’t end up cramming everything the night before. At the same time we will also get things done in time.”

Jungkook lets out a scoff, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket. "We don’t end up cramming? Speak for yourself. I thrive under last-minute pressure."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, well, I don’t and I actually want to pass this class with a decent grade.

The project in question includes two different parts. One being quantitative analysis and the other being making functional electrolytic cells.

"We should split the workload," you continue, pushing open the door to exit the building. "I can handle the data analysis and report if you do the titration part. That way, we don’t have to spend hours in the lab together and—"

You cut yourself off when you step outside and are instantly greeted by pouring rain. The kind that turns roads into mini rivers and soaks you within seconds if you even think about stepping into it.

You groan, adjusting your bag strap. "Great."

Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t seem the least bit concerned. In fact, when you glance at him, you find him smirking at you as if his time to shine has finally come.

"What?" you frown, confused as to how there could be anything remotely entertaining about the situation.

He tilts his head slightly, the smirk deepening. "Nothing. It’s just..." He pauses dramatically before pulling out a compact umbrella from his bag. "Looks like I’m your savior today."

You blink. "You carry an umbrella?"

"Unlike some people, I actually check the weather app before leaving my place," he says, popping it open with an unnecessarily smug flick of his wrist. The way he’s looking at you—pure smug delight—makes you want to shove him into the rain.

Instead, you huff. "Fine. Move over."

Jungkook grins, shifting to make space under the umbrella. But the moment you step closer, you realize just how small the damn thing is. Because despite both of you standing shoulder to shoulder, a decent portion of you is still exposed to the rain.

"You call this an umbrella?" you grumble, shifting uncomfortably as stray droplets land on your arm.

Jungkook snorts. "Sorry, princess. Should I have brought a full-on tent instead?"

Before you can bite back a retort, he sighs and—without warning—lifts his arm, tilting the umbrella more toward your side. The gesture is so casual, so unconscious, that it takes you a second to register what he’s doing.

He’s getting wet.

Not completely soaked, but one side of his shoulder is already darkening with damp patches, and his hair—normally so effortlessly styled—is beginning to stick to his forehead.

You frown. "Jungkook."

"Hm?" He glances at you, completely unbothered.

"You’re getting wet."

"Yeah. And?"

You open your mouth, but no words come out because what do you even say to that? For all his teasing and dramatics, Jungkook is... kind. In this unspoken way that always catches you off guard.

"Just—" You reach up and tug at his sleeve, pulling him closer to the center. "Stop being a hero and stand properly."

Jungkook huffs out a laugh, letting you maneuver him under the umbrella. "See? I knew you cared about me."

You give him a deadpan stare. "I just don’t want my lab partner catching a cold and making me do all the work."

"Mm-hm."

"I’m serious."

"Sure you are."

He’s looking at you now, his grin playful, teasing, but there’s something softer beneath it—something warm that makes your stomach do something weird.

You look away quickly, pretending to focus on the rain. "We should probably start walking."

Jungkook hums, amusement lacing his voice. "Yeah, wouldn’t want to be stuck with me for too long, huh?"

You don’t answer. Not because you agree—but because you’re suddenly too aware of the fact that walking home means being pressed close to Jungkook, close enough to feel his warmth, and you don’t know what to do with that realization.

And as the two of you step forward—shoulder to shoulder under the tiny umbrella, moving in sync against the rain—you wonder, just for a second, if maybe Namjoon was right.

Maybe the universe does have a plan.

The library is almost empty when you and Jungkook walk in. Probably a total of seven students—including the both of you.

It has only been four days since you have been assigned with your respective group projects. You still remain in lack of a proper schedule and there has been no, breaking down the project into smaller pieces. But when you realised you had a free period, you were quick to text Jungkook just in case he was free too.

Well, he wasn’t. But it was history and in his words, “he couldn't care less”.

So here you two were, having an impromptu study session and in all honesty, you are surprised Jungkook hasn’t complained about it.

The two of you settle down at a table, and you are quick to take out the required books, notes and pens. You flip open your textbook, skimming through the topic for the day before turning to Jungkook.

"So, the goal for today is to understand the principles behind our project and write a rough outline for our project report," you say, tapping your pen against the page.

Jungkook nods, looking almost too serious about it. "Got it."

And that is all it takes for the both of you to get to work.

For the first few minutes, everything is quiet. The only sounds in the room are the scribbling of your pen and the occasional rustling of pages as you focus entirely on the words in front of you. You assume Jungkook is doing the same—until, from the corner of your eye, you catch the soft glow of a phone screen.

You glance up.

Jungkook is scrolling through reels, eyes fixated on his phone with an almost comical level of concentration, thumb flicking up every few seconds.

"Jungkook," you call out, voice a whisper, cautious to not break the library decorum.

He startles, locking his phone instantly as if he hadn't just been caught red-handed. "Yeah?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Are you seriously watching reels right now?"

He clears his throat, looking guilty.

"No," he lies blatantly.

You stare at him in a deadpan manner long enough for him to sigh.

"Okay, fine. Just for a second. I got distracted," he admits sheepishly, setting his phone aside. "Back to work."

You nod in approval and return to your notes.

A minute passes.

Then another.

Just as you're beginning to believe he's actually focusing, you notice movement again.

Jungkook now finds himself occupied with twirling his pen between his fingers. When he gets bored with that, he gazes outside the window, his eyes focused on the moving people and vehicles. A few moments later, he sighs dramatically in his seat and stretches his legs, almost as if he has tried all his possible escapes and is now waiting for you to acknowledge his suffering.

You don’t.

But when he huffs under his breath for the third time in five minutes, you snap your book shut and give him a pointed look.

"Jungkook."

He straightens up. "Yeah?"

"You're not studying."

"I am!"

You just stare at him.

He scratches the back of his neck. "Okay, maybe not. But it’s not my fault. Theory is just—" he makes a face, “—so boring.”

You cross your arms, a small spark of amusement flaring inside you. “Boring?”

Jungkook leans forward, whispering as if confessing a dark secret. "I hate theory. I just don’t see the point. We already know how to do the experiment. Why do we need to write paragraphs about it?"

You blink at him. "Because that’s how science works? How will you understand what you are doing if you do not understand the theory?"

Jungkook groans, dropping his head onto his textbook. "If I were like super rich or famous, I would have just hired someone to do all my theory work.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

In the brief amount of time that you have worked with Jungkook and seen how good he is with the chemistry lab, you didn't think he would be someone so uninterested in theory. In a weird way, it also makes you feel smug. After the way you have been simply in awe with his lab skills, you feel a little excited because maybe this is your time to shine. Hehe.

You look at him with a mix of curiosity and a hint of teasingness. “So, let me get this straight, you like putting things on fire in the lab. But you lose interest the moment we switch to theory?’

Jungkook grins unapologetically. “That sounds about right.”

You snort. "Of course you do."

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms causing the muscles in his arms to flex momentarily. But you do not pay attention to that. Of course. "What?! Lab actually is a lot of fun. You get to see things happen in real time. Theory, on the other hand, is just—meh.”

You shake your head, amused. "Alright, Mr. Hands-On, let's try to make theory a little interesting, then."

Jungkook narrows his eyes. "How?"

You flip to the first topic in the syllabus and glance at him. "Let’s start with the Nernst equation. You know, the one that helps us calculate how the electrode potential changes when ion concentrations aren't standard."

Jungkook squints at you. "Sounds complicated already."

“How about you think of this as two cups? Depending on how empty or full the two cups are, the electrons move. And when both cups are equal, you get the standard voltage.” You say with your moving around animatedly. “But everytime the two cups are unbalanced, the voltage changes and the nernst equation helps us calculate that change.”

Jungkook nods slowly. "Okay…"

"So now here, this is the Nernst equation which helps us calculate the potential: E = E° - (RT/nF) * ln(Q)."

Jungkook blinks at you. "That looks like an ancient spell."

You laugh. "It’s just saying that the actual voltage of a cell depends on the standard voltage, temperature, number of electrons transferred, and the reaction quotient. Imagine that the two cups have reactants and products each, the more the concentration of reactants and products change, the more the voltage shifts."

Jungkook tilts his head, interest sparking in his eyes. "So… you’re saying the Nernst equation helps track how much power is left in something like a battery?"

"Exactly! It’s not just theory—it’s real-world application. Your phone battery? Same principle. The more charge you use, the more the concentration of ions inside changes, and the lower the voltage gets."

Jungkook blinks again, this time in what looks like genuine understanding. "Huh. That actually makes sense."

A slow smile spreads across your face. "See? Theory isn't so bad when you actually understand it."

Jungkook exhales dramatically. "Fine. That was interesting. But can you keep explaining things like that? Feels like a story instead of a textbook."

You smirk, your smugness intensifying. "I can try."

Then you explain another topic.

And then another.

Jungkook had never thought he’d enjoy theory. Ever. But as you spoke, there was something about the way you explained things—patient, engaging, like you weren’t just reciting from a textbook but actually painting a picture with your words. It was also this look in your eye, like you almost get lost in the process of exploring.

He, soon, finds himself listening intently, not just to the concepts, but to you. The soft lilt of your voice, the effortless way you brought even the driest topics to life… it was oddly soothing.

For the first time, theory didn’t feel suffocating.

It felt like something he could actually enjoy.

When you were finally done explaining, you tapped your pen against the notebook and pointed at a simple numerical problem. “Alright, now you try. It’ll help your brain process everything we just talked about.”

Jungkook glanced at the question. It was ridiculously easy. He might not like the long ass paragraphs of theory but numericals? Numericals, he loves. He could solve it in less than a minute. But where was the fun in that?

Instead, he furrowed his brows and carefully—very deliberately—messed up a step.

You caught the mistake immediately. “Wait, no,” you said, leaning over to look at his notebook. “The Q is supposed to be on the other side of the equation”

Jungkook blinks at the paper, feigning confusion. “Oh?”

You sigh, biting back a smile. “Here, let me show you again.”

You scooted a little closer, picking up your pen to write the correct steps out for him. Jungkook, however, wasn’t really paying attention to the problem anymore. He was paying attention to you.

The way your brows knit together in concentration. The way your fingers tapped lightly against the notebook as you thought. The way your voice—soft, steady—patiently guided him through the solution, as if you had all the time in the world for him.

Yeah. Maybe theory wasn’t so bad after all.

“Got it now?” you asked, turning to look at him.

Jungkook blinked, suddenly realizing he’d been staring. He cleared his throat, nodding quickly. “Uh, yeah. Totally.”

You squinted at him in suspicion. “You sure? Because that mistake was really basic, Jungkook.”

He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “What can I say? Guess I just need you to keep explaining things to me.”

You rolled your eyes, but the slight curve of your lips told him you weren’t annoyed in the slightest.

And Jungkook? He already knew he was going to be making a lot more ‘mistakes’ in the future.

The words in front of you feel blank and your mind has started to feel foggy.

The textbook in front of you contains material of all the laboratory classes that have been conducted so far. A part of you knows, that you know the content. But the other, major, part of you is technically shitting pants right now.

You are confident that you have studied and know what all the topics consist of but who is to say that you won’t blank out when your professor asks a question? That you won’t just stand there dumbly? That you won’t make a fool of yourself?

It is one thing when the exams are written and another when it is viva, when you have to answer right on the spot.

Geez, you think you might just forget everything the moment you look at your professor’s face!

The anxiety starts clawing at your chest, making it nearly impossible for you to study and process any of the information written in the books.

A few moments later, you sigh frustratedly and push the textbook away.

You reach for your phone and dial a number—maybe hearing a familiar voice will help. Plus, the viva is supposed to be held alongside your lab partner so it's only reasonable that you ensure Jungkook knows his stuff, so that in case you do end up messing things, he can handle it.

You chew on your lip as the line starts to ring. It rings once. Twice. Thrice.

On the fourth ring—

"Hello?" Jungkook’s voice comes through, slightly rough and groggy, as if you just woke him up.

You flinch slightly, guilt washing over you for waking him up. “Oh... sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Jungkook groans on the other end, clearly not at all bothered. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost noon,” you reply, a little sheepishly. “You should be studying, not napping.”

Jungkook yawns loudly, his voice still heavy with sleep. “I was studying... until I fell asleep.”

You sigh, finding Jungkook's laid back nature a little hard to believe. How on earth is he sleeping when you feel like you might end up pulling out your hair?

“You do remember, right, that tomorrow we have our internals?”

Jungkook merely hums in affirmations, about to doze off to his beloved dreamland again.

His nonchalant behaviour, however, adds fuel to the fire that is your anxiety. “The viva is in pairs, Jungkook! You and me, together! And you’re just... sleeping?! What if I forget everything? How will I manage if you don't come to my rescue?!”

Your sudden panicked voice makes Jungkook blink a couple of times as he processes your words. When he does understand that you're just acting out of your anxiety, he feels a small spark of amusement.

Leave it to you to be good at everything but be dramatic.

Jungkook chuckles, clearly enjoying this more than he should be. “Relax, it will be all good. Plus, it is not like you don’t know the topics already.”

“But what if I mess up?! What if I simply blank out?!”

“You’re such a mess, you know that?” He lets out another yawn, almost mockingly. But if only one were to listen a little closely, would they recognise a hidden fondness in his tone. “Look, you’re gonna do fine. Stop freaking out. You’ve got all the answers. Just breathe.”

You huff, irritated. “How are you so chill? I don’t understand you. Aren’t you even a little stressed?”

“Nah,” Jungkook replies casually. “I’ll answer the questions, and if I get something wrong, I’ll just tell the professor that you taught me all the theory.”

You stop mid-step, your heart thudding in your chest. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” he continues, clearly entertained now. “You’ve been explaining everything to me, so in case I mess up, I’ll just blame you. Pretty clever, right?”

Your eyes narrow at his words, but instead of snapping back, you let out a dramatic gasp.

“Oh, I see how it is,” you say, voice dripping with betrayal. “I spend hours explaining things to you, making sure you don't find theory boring? And this is how you pay me back? By framing me for your potential failure?”

Jungkook hums lazily. “Yup. Sounds fair to me.”

You gasp again, clutching your chest as if wounded. “You know what? Fine. If that’s the case, I might as well actually sabotage you.”

At that, Jungkook perks up. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll start feeding you wrong information,” you say sweetly. “Mess up all the key terms. Replace actual answers with random nonsense. So when you answer confidently, the professor will just stare at you.”

Jungkook lets out a scandalized laugh. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would,” you shoot back, grinning now. “I’ll tell you Newton’s Third Law is ‘mind over matter.’ That exothermic reactions are just chemicals sweating. That photosynthesis is just plants doing yoga.”

Jungkook chokes on a laugh. “Plants doing yoga? What?!”

You sigh, feigning disappointment. “Oh no, I’ve already started. Poor you, Jungkook.”

“Okay, okay, I take it back!” he says quickly, amusement laced in his voice. “You are an amazing tutor, and I would never dare frame you.”

You hum, pretending to think. “Mmm. Apology accepted. For now.”

He sighs dramatically. “Phew. You’re scary when you’re evil, you know that?”

“Good,” you say smugly.

Jungkook chuckles, and even through the phone, you can hear the warmth in it. “Feeling better now?”

You pause.

Damn it. You are.

“…Shut up,” you mumble, but there’s no real bite to it.

Jungkook laughs, and for the first time today, you feel light.

Stepping outside the hall, you feel a wave of relief and satisfaction hit you.

The viva is over, and it went surprisingly well—better than you had expected. You don’t know what it was, but standing next to Jungkook had an effect. It almost felt like even if you were to stutter and lose your words, it would be fine. Like you couldn’t possibly do something that would make you feel embarrassed.

You also had a sense of knowing that, even if you did mess up, Jungkook would probably say something about it later that would make you find humour about the situation. Something that would soon override the feeling of mortification.

But well, that is all in the past. You and Jungkook both could answer the set of questions that were thrown your way and you are more than satisfied.

You exhale a deep breath, enjoying how light you feel in this moment. Jungkook, on the other hand, stretches his arms above his head as if he just woke up from a nap.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” he comments, taking a note of the expression on your face.

You grin, a little too happy about the outcome. “It was better than ‘not so bad’. And you nailed your answers, by the way.”

Jungkook smirks, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Oh? Did I now?.”

“Yes, you did,” you admit. “You were so calm and confident. The way you answered without hesitation—I thought you didn’t care about viva exams.”

He shrugs, tilting his head toward you. “I don’t stress about them. But I do listen when you speak.”

Something about the way he says it—so casual, so sincere—makes your stomach do a weird little flip. You blink at him, caught off guard by the warmth spreading through your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for a response. He simply continues walking ahead, the smirk still lingering on his lips, leaving you standing there for a second longer than necessary, processing the unexpected fondness curling around your heart.

You blink yourself out of whatever strange haze Jungkook’s words had sent you into and quickly catch up to him, shaking off the warmth lingering in your chest.

Before you can say anything, another voice joins the two of you.

“Well, well, well—look who we have here.”

You turn your head to see Namjoon falling into step beside you, a knowing glint in his eyes. You narrow your eyes to telepathically convey that there is nothing of the sort he might be thinking in that mind of his.

Namjoon, however, adamantly ignores you.

“So?” he continues, rocking on his heels. “How did the exam go?”

Jungkook, ever so relaxed, shrugs . “It went better than ‘not so bad’.”

Namjoon hums, pretending to consider something before a smirk takes over his face. “You know, you two make a good team.”

Your body tenses at that, heat creeping up the back of your neck. You glare at Jungkook, making a promise to yourself that you will absolutely strangle him later. But before you can divert the conversation to something else, Jungkook speaks.

“We actually do.”

And just like that, the same weird sensation of warmth and fuzziness makes a comeback once again.

Namjoon smirks and it is now that he meets your eyes, with a look on his face that tells you, he is enjoying this more than he should. And even though you glare at him, the red hue on your cheeks betrays you.

“Anyway, since you both seem to be in such a great mood, let me get to the point,” Namjoon begins, feeling a little disheartened that he has to cut this moment short.

You raise an eyebrow, still distracted and flustered by Jungkook’s easy agreement to Namjoon’s earlier tease. “What point?”

“With the long weekend coming up and with our exams now over, Taehyung was asking if everyone would be up for visiting his countryside villa?”

The moment the words leave his mouth, excitement crackles in the air.

“Oh, that is such a great idea,” Jungkook’s response is immediate, his face lighting up at the mention of the place.

Your own reaction is just as instant, your earlier thoughts about the examination completely forgotten. “Wait, Taehyung’s villa? It’s been so long since we last went there.”

Namjoon grins, nodding. “Tell me about it.”

An excited chuckle leaves your mouth as memories of the last time you all were there, comes flashing back in your mind. The memories you made in that short stay will probably stay with you forever. Everything about that place is perfect and it has always served as a little getaway—a piece of peace for your little friend group.

“I’d love to!” You exclaim, not hesitating for one moment.

“Same here,” Jungkook’s voice matches the excitement in your voice.

“I figured you’d both be up for it. Everyone else is already on board,” Namjoon chuckles. “So we’ll leave Friday morning.”

You and Jungkook exchange glances, a mutual spark of excitement passing between you. A weekend away at the villa, with all your friends, no stress, no exams—just a break.

Yeah, this was going to be good.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook au #jungkook ff #jungkook soulmate au #jungkook fanfic #Fic: the one

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hamiltonaf · 8 months ago

Text

Veiled Emotions | Lando Norris

(Part 1) | Part 2

Pairing: Lando Norris x BFF!Female Reader

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: None

A/N: Hello my loves. I’m back from my hiatus ! Had this one in my drafts for so long and finally got out of writers block to finish it. Let me know your thoughts if you’d like a part 2 ? Enjoy ! X

(Y/F/N) - Your Friend’s Name

(Y/N/N) - Your Nickname

“Oh my days” I said aloud. “No fricking way” I slapped a hand over my mouth in shock as I stared at my Instagram notifications. “Bestie what happened ?” (Y/F/N) asked as she rushed over to my side. “You are not going to believe who just followed me” I said as I looked at her. “Tell me already !” (Y/F/N) yelled. “The footballer, João Félix !” I squealed. “Shut up ! Give me that” she grabbed my phone from my hand to take a closer look. “What the- wait a second..isn’t he-“ “Yepp” I nodded as I pressed my lips together. “This is major !” She shouted.

“But how crazy that he followed me the same time these rumours started with Lando ?” I said as I snatched my phone back. “This sounds like sweet revenge to me” (Y/F/N) said as she rubbed her hands together. “I wouldn’t say revenge, I mean they’re just rumours” I shrugged. “Babe sometimes you’re blind and I feel bad for you” she said as she rubbed my back. “What do you mean I’m blind ?” I furrowed my brows.

“Don’t you see how that dumb ass doesn’t care about you when she’s around ? He doesn’t call you or text you, but if you tried calling or texting him he’s always so called ‘busy’ ! He doesn’t make time for you anymore considering you guys have known each other for 2 years now. The only time he knows you is when she’s not around which is so not on. You don’t deserve that treatment” she lectured.

“I get where you’re coming from and gosh.. I wish it was so easy to stop thinking about him, but you already know how I feel. It’s a one sided love story” I sighed. “Get over him ! I’ve been telling you this for so long, he doesn’t deserve you. If he wants to prioritise her over you, yet he knows you for god knows how long, that speaks for itself” she said. “Yeah it’s easy to say get over him, not so easy when I still get tagged on pictures and see him all over my timeline” I fussed. “Block him” she simply said. “Are you mad ? These gossip accounts and fans will notice and then people won’t stop talking about it. I can forsee what’s going to happen already, leave it to me” I reassured her. “Ugh fine, but please stop letting him have control over you” she warned. “Control over me ? Ain’t no way, I can play the same game ” I grinned to myself. I followed Joāo.

To think that my follower count is such that youoão won’t notice one extra follower, but I guessed wrong because these F1 gossip accounts don’t play. It’s only been an hour, we haven’t even DMed each other, just a follow back and F1 gossip girl had posted.

***BREAKING NEWS***

Spotted: Lando getting cozy with Magui at the trendiest spots in town. But hold your gasps, because there’s a juicy twist —João Felix and (Y/N) are now following each other. Is this just a casual follow, or a strategic move in a high-stakes game of love and rivalry ? As the drama unfolds, one thing’s for sure: the Upper East Side’s favorite social circle is about to get even more complicated. Stay tuned, darling—this is just the beginning of the scandal.

XOXO, Gossip Girl

After reading the post I felt as if I was apart of the Gossip Girl series, a childhood dream come true. Jokes aside… I showed (Y/F/N) the post and we had a good laugh for a few minutes. “At this point you NEED to date Joāo, give the fans what they want !” she said as she shook me. “Dating for drama is too much work and I don’t do fake romance” I rolled my eyes. “Girl… who said it has to be fake ? What if y’all actually fall in love oh my god !” She squealed. “Not when that idiot lives in my head rent free” I said as I grabbed the pillow from beside me and screamed into it in frustration. “Babe you need to calm down-“ and just then my Twitch notification went off. It could only go off for two people - Lando or Max.

We shared a look simultaneously, (Y/F/N) was indirectly giving me permission to open the stream. Max is in frame on the golf cart and he starts off by greeting everyone, as well as giving a brief run down of what they’re doing. I failed to remember that my username is visible until I read the comments which everyone is tagging me and saying hi or bringing up Joāo…oh dear. “I see we have our bestie watching the stream. Hey (Y/N/N) !” Max waved. I typed back ‘Heyy Max !’.

The comments were only about Joāo Felix within a few seconds. Max starts reading one of the comments, “(Y/N) wins in life with Max and Lando as her best friends and now a footballer, Joāo, is her potential boyfriend ! Unreal.” I was at a loss for words. (Y/F/N) and I looked at each other and burst out laughing at the comment, as much as I love the fans they have gone crazy. “Say what now ?” Lando said as he then came into frame and sat beside Max on the golf cart. “Shit” I muttered. “(Y/N/N) is on the stream” Max glanced at him. “Hey bestie ! Missing you” Lando said with a smile. “I hate him” I said to myself. “Me too” (Y/F/N) agreed.

‘Enjoy Portugal !’ I typed in the comments. “Bro did you know (Y/N) and Joāo are dating” Max said as he watched Lando jump off the golf cart. “You’re joking” Lando scoffed. Max cleared his throat and coughed before Lando could comment any further. “This is like watching Gossip Girl in the flesh” (Y/F/N) said. “Why does he look good” I whined. “I’ve had enough of you acting like this, please leave the stream and watch something else like TikTok or something” (Y/F/N) said as she snatched my phone to close Twitch and open TikTok instead.

I swear this day is like a fever dream. “Are you taking the piss” (Y/F/N) said as she was viewing a TikTok. “What ? Show me too” I said as I grabbed my phone from her hand. It’s a TikTok of Max’ girlfriend and Joāo’s ex. That means the rumours must be true seeing how close they are in the video.

“So much for thinking TikTok would be a good distraction” (Y/F/N) said as she closed TikTok. “This day couldn’t be more of a joke” I sighed. “You know what I’ve had enough ! Let’s get ready, we’re going out” I practically got dragged to my room. “Going where exactly ?” I asked as I sat at the edge of the bed. “Anywhere ! As long as you don’t look at your phone today” (Y/F/N) said as she rummaged through her bag for an outfit. “But I’m so not in the mood” I said as I fell back on the bed. Just then my notifications went off. A text from Lando. Strange.

(Y/F/N) paused with searching for a dress and scurried to lay beside me.

Little did Lando know was that (Y/F/N) had taken my phone away that’s why I didn’t answer his calls and bonus of it all, she lied by answering his question. “I guess fake love it is then” I furrowed my brows. “Why chase when you’re the catch, right ?” She said as she stood up to face me. “I mean I guess so” I shrugged. “You have to be confident and know that you’re worth more than chasing after this boy. He needs to chase after you” she said as she held me at my shoulders and shook me.

“Are you going to make this boy fall for you or what ?” She asked. I was hesitant to answer, “Bestie… I thought you didn’t like him” I pressed my lips together. “Only because he’s being an idiot you and I hate seeing you like this. But if it means playing cupid and bringing back my old bestie - more importantly that you’re happy then I’ll support it” she smiled softly. “Awww.. stop ! Now enough pep talk, we need to get dressed” I clapped my hands and jumped off the bed in a hurry.

yourusername added to story

(Y/F/N) suggested to post on my story as if I’m out with João and I think I nailed it considering it got a reaction out of Lando. He reacted with ‘😍’ and added, ‘You actually went on a date with him 😂’. (Y/F/N) said nothing would tick him off more than leaving him on read and that’s what I did.

After a fun night of dinner and drinks with our other girl friends, we made it back home safely and all I just wanted to do was go to sleep. I kicked off my heels and walked over to the kitchen to fill up a vase with water for the bouquet - Lando’s name lit up across my lock screen to video call. I rolled my eyes, “Ugh to answer or not to answer ?”. “Girl answer ! I wanna hear this” (Y/F/N) said as she sat beside me, away from my camera view but enough for her to see what’s happening. “Hey you, what a surprise” I greeted. “Are you back home ?” He asked. “Yeah I actually just got back” I said as I leaned against the counter.

“At 12am ?” He furrowed his brows. “I guess you can say we lost track of time” I grinned. (Y/F/N) was trying her best not to laugh. “Where did he take you ?” He asked curiously. I then grabbed the bouquet and tried to place it nicely as a whole into the vase. “Is this why you called ? To get information ?” I raised a brow. “No ! I just miss you that’s all” he sighed. “You seem perfectly fine without me, in fact you look like you’re having a lot of fun.. I don’t see how me being there would make a difference” I shrugged.

“Okay now what’s with the sarcasm ? You’re acting as if I didn’t ask you to come with !” He argued. “Oh I’m sorry Lando, but I would hate to be the third wheel for both you and Max.” “Third wheel for me ? Why is that ?” He looked confused. “Oh my god how slow are you” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes now, tell me why !” He broke into a smile as he started to laugh. The audacity. “Are you trying to make me look like a mug ?” I sniggered. “No no, it’s just cute to see you get upset” he smiled. “Wow okay. Anyways I’m gonna go” I grew annoyed very quickly, I just want this call to end. “Wait wait. I’m sorry okay, I’ll stop talking” he pouted. Nope, not gonna work. “No..it’s getting late anyways. I’m gonna go. Night” I huffed. “But (Y/N/N)-“ “Lando I’m tired please.” “Alright sorry..good night..love ya” he sighed. “Bye” I said softly and ended the call.

“Girlll can y’all just admit y’all love each other at this point. I felt like I was watching a couple fight. Geez” (Y/F/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not. I’m annoyed because I feel like he called for some entertainment for his girlfriend. I’m sure she’s dying to know what her ex and I were up to, and also how she can get payback for whatever reason” I said as we walked back to the room. “Babe I think you’re overthinking it. From what I saw he genuinely looked lonely and just wanted to talk to you because he misses you” she said. “Erm I’m sorry but what happened to my best friend who was against him ?” I raised a brow. “I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt” she smiled proudly.

“Love how everyone is ganging up against me like I’m the villain. Love to see it ! Not.” I faked a smile. “Sleep over it and talk to him tomorrow” she suggested. “Hmm we’ll see” I said lowly.

#f1 oneshots #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris oneshot #lando norris imagines #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagines

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itneverendshere · 11 months ago

Text

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - five

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

warnings: angst <3333333 for everyone <33

word count: 7.7k

The ride back to home was a blur. The plane ride, the ferry.

Everything.

Every mile away from Rafe felt like reopening an old wound, over and over. The cops kept trying to make small talk, but you barely said a word. One-syllable responses if anything. Eventually, they just gave up and let you stare out the window in awkward silence.

By the time you pulled up, even the streets of The Cut didn’t make you feel any better. Home didn’t feel like home anymore. It was weird, almost like you didn’t recognize it. Walking in with the officers behind you just made everything feel more real, like a slap in the face of the life you were stepping back into.

“Your brother and your friends were rescued from a remote island a while ago. He was informed of your whereabouts an hour ago, he’ll be here soon.”

You barely processed what they were saying. It didn't really sink in. You just nodded, like you were on autopilot, but your brain was still stuck in everything that went down two days ago. What kind of sister doesn’t freak out when she hears her little brother’s alive and okay?

You should’ve been losing it with relief, right? But all you felt was this weird emptiness. You were supposed to protect him. You didn't.

Their words barely registered.

You nodded numbly; your mind still stuck between the events that had unfolded just two days ago.

What kind of sister had you turned into? Barely phased over the fact your little brother was thankfully alive and well? You were supposed to protect him.

They could tell you were checked out, they exchanged this look, like they didn’t know what to do with you, then quietly stepped out onto the porch, leaving you to rot with your thoughts.

You wandered around the house, but every step felt so heavy. Every room was just a reminder of what used to be. The couch where you'd would argue over stupid TV shows while Luke was off doing who-knows-what, the kitchen table where it was just the two of you, eating and sharing stories like nothing was wrong... It all felt so distant, like snapshots from another life you couldn’t touch anymore.

You knew, deep down, things would never go back to how they were.

You ended up in my room, collapsing onto your bed, the sheets still smelling like home. But even that didn’t help the ache in your chest.

It didn’t feel right. Nothing ever did unless your brother was there.

But now, not even the thought of him being back could bring you peace. All you could think about was Rafe. His smile, his touch, his voice—every part of him was still so clear in your head, and it hurt so bad to remember.

That must be your punishment.

A soft knock on the door jolted you from your thoughts. You sat up, heart racing. Your body was still on high alert, even the tiniest noise made you jump, like you were waiting for something bad to happen.

The sound of gunshots still echoed in your mind. It hadn’t even been three days.

The old wooden door creaked open, and there was JJ, his bright blue eyes wide and full of worry. He rushed to you so fast, you almost lost your breath when he pulled you into this bear hug.

"Holy shit,” he whispered, his voice shaky, "Holy shit."

Tears just started pouring out of you, and you couldn’t stop. You were full-on sobbing while he held you like you used to hold him when he was little, and it killed you. It was all so wrong. It devastated you. It felt so disappointing. He was never supposed to be the one carrying the family burden, you were.

After what felt like forever, you pulled back and wiped your face, your throat tight. JJ sat next to you, searching your face with those big, worried eyes.

“You’re not hurt?”

You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to get a grip. All you could manage was a small “No. You?”

“No,” JJ nodded, lips pursed into a tight line as if he was figuring out what to say next, “They told me about the shooting.”

Your heart sank further at his words. You had hoped to avoid talking about it, at least for a little while. You didn’t want to talk about that. Not yet. But the way he looked at you, like he used to when you'd protect him from everything, you couldn’t just shrug it off.

“I’m fine, I swear.” You reached out and squeezed his hand. "What about you? How did you get off that island?"

JJ let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“It was a mess. We were stuck there for weeks, trying to find a way out. Pope and Kie kept us sane, but it was rough. We finally managed to signal a passing boat, and they rescued us. But the whole time, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

You squeezed his hand even tighter, his words hitting you like a truck, and the guilt just kept building. You squeezed his hand tighter, trying to keep it together.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm so sorry, JJ."

He shook his head vehemently. "No, don't apologize. None of this is your fault. I—I should’ve saved you on that ship, okay? It’s on me, not you.”

You felt another wave of tears coming but swallowed them down.

“You did everything you could. We both did. None of this is your fault."

“The one time we changed places, and I couldn’t do it.”

"Jay—"

"I should have been there for you," he cut in, his voice cracking. "I hated not being there. "I hated it."

God, if only he knew.

If he found out what really happened with Rafe, he’d hate you. It wasn’t his fault—it was yours. You pulled him into another hug, trying to say everything you couldn’t with just your touch. The weight of everything—your guilt, your pain—was too much, but at least you had each other. You could feel his body shaking, and you didn’t even know if it was from exhaustion or emotion.

When you finally let go, you took a deep breath, hoping to find some semblance of strength.

"We’re gonna be okay.”

JJ nodded, though you could see the doubt in his eyes. "I know. It's just... hard."

"I get it. But we're both here, we're alive.”

He gave you this sad little smile, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

You sat there in silence for a bit, and it felt fragile, but at least it was peaceful. Outside, you could hear the waves crashing, like life was still going on, even though yours felt like it was stuck.

"Do you think things will ever go back to normal?" JJ's voice was quiet, almost hesitant, like he didn't want an answer.

Normal? The nightmares of him finding out about Rafe haunted you every night, mocking at your mind. But You couldn’t tell him that. It made you want to scratch your skin raw.

“Yeah.”

"Yeah," I lied.

You could see how tired he was, like he was just as drained as you felt. You both needed sleep, but honestly, the idea of closing your eyes terrified you. The nightmares were always there, waiting.

"Let's try to get some sleep," You suggested softly, though you weren't sure you could follow your own advice. "We both need it, ‘kay?”

“Let’s try to get some rest,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I could actually follow through. "We both need it."

JJ nodded, even though you could tell he wasn’t convinced. He lay down next to you on the tiny bed, and you barely fit, but it was comforting. Just having him close made you feel a little less broken.

The minutes passed in silence, the only sound being the waves outside. You focused on them, using them to ground myself. Slowly, you felt the tension start to slip away, just a little.

"Do you remember the first time we went out on the boat alone?"JJ’s voice was barely a whisper in the dark, like he was holding onto a memory that felt safe.

A small smile crept onto my lips. "Yeah. You swore you knew how to steer, and we almost crashed into that sandbank."

He chuckled softly. "We were so scared. But you figured it out. You always do."

The memory was bittersweet, a reminder of when things were simpler, back when your biggest problem was not sinking a boat and you weren't a complete fuck up.

Now, you felt like you were drowning every day.

Your eyes started to get heavy, and JJ’s breathing next to you slowed, evening out. You wanted to tell him everything, but you couldn’t. If you did, you'd lose him for good.

Sleep came slowly, but when it did, it was deep and dreamless. Empty, like how you'd been feeling for way too long.

Morning came too fast, sunlight slipping through the curtains and filling the room with a warm glow. You blinked awake, feeling disoriented for a second before everything from the past few days came rushing back. JJ was still asleep next to you, his face finally relaxed, looking so much younger and peaceful.

You carefully slid out of bed, not wanting to wake him. The officer who comforted you after the shooting promised he’d call as soon as there was an update on Rafe. So far? Nothing.

You couldn’t help but wonder if the hospital had already contacted Sarah. She was basically the only family Rafe had left, other than Wheezie, who was just a kid, and Ward… well, a literal wanted criminal now. It made sense for them to reach out to her first.

If you called the hospital yourself, they wouldn’t tell you anything—You weren't family. And asking Sarah? She’d immediately know something was off. There was no way you could risk that.

The kitchen was weirdly quiet, the early light stretching shadows across the walls. You made a cup of coffee, letting the warmth calm the cold ache inside you, but even that didn’t really help. Sitting at the table, you tried to think of some kind of plan. You needed to know if he was okay, but every option felt like a trap.

Suddenly, your new phone buzzed on the table, shaking you out of your thoughts. You grabbed it, heart pounding, seeing an unknown number flash on the screen. Your stomach twisted, but you answered.

“Hello?”

“This is Officer Thompson. I promised I’d keep you updated on Rafe Cameron’s condition.”

You closed your eyes, thanking God for finally giving you some piece of mind, “Yes, thank you.”

“He’s stable,” Officer Thompson continued. “The surgery went well, and he’s in recovery. It’ll be a while before he’s fully back on his feet, but he’s out of immediate danger.”

The knot in your stomach loosened just a little. “Thank you for letting me know.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“I know this is difficult, but you should focus on your own recovery too. There’s a chance the feds will contact you, they’re building their case on Ward. What happened to you is, unfortunately, considered a minor crime compared to everything he’s done, so maybe you’ll get some peace. If not, you might have to testify against him.”

Testify. The thought of standing in a courtroom, reliving everything in front of strangers, made your skin crawl.

“And Rafe? What are his charges?”

"He’s facing several charges, but the severity of his sentence could depend on his cooperation. If he agrees to testify against his father, the authorities might offer him a deal."

A deal. The idea of him getting out that easily should’ve made you angry, but instead, you felt this weird sense of relief. You hated myself for it. You wanted him to pay for everything, for all of it. But now? You were clinging to any slim chance of freedom, even if it wasn’t fair.

You thanked Officer Thompson again and ended the call, setting your phone down with a shaky hand. The coffee had grown cold, but you didn't have the energy to make another cup. You sat there for a long moment, staring into nothing.

The sound of footsteps snapped you out of your thoughts, and you turned to see JJ in the doorway, his hair sticking up in all directions, still half-asleep.

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice groggy.

“Uh—Officer Thompson. He was at the scene the other day and told me he’d keep me updated.”

JJ tilted his head, his messy bed hair making him look like a confused puppy. “Updated on what?”

“Rafe’s condition,” You replied, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. It was a half-lie, but at least you were giving him something.

He stopped mid-step, “And you care because…?”

“For closure, I guess," You mumbled, trying to brush it off like it was no big deal.

His gaze softened a little, but not by much. He pulled out a chair and sat across from you. “You’re too good, y’know that? Personally, I don’t give a fuck if he dies.”

You winced inwardly. "JJ, you can't just say stuff like that."

He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Why not? After everything he’s done, he deserves whatever he gets."

You couldn’t really argue with that, but something inside you felt the need to defend Rafe, even if you hated that feeling. He had saved your life, and that wasn’t something you could just forget.

“He’s still a human being, okay?”

JJ scoffed, shaking his head like you’d said the dumbest thing ever. "Barely."

You didn’t know why you suddenly felt so angry, so defensive. But it made its way up your body until your lips were moving again, practically spitting the words out.

“He saved my life.”

Your brother stared at you like you were speaking another language, “Saved your life? Are you serious? It’s his fault you were there in the first place!”

“He chose to help me. And I can't just forget that."

JJ ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “This is insane. One good deed doesn’t make up for all the shit he’s done.”

“I know that,” I said, reaching out for him, but he pulled back before I could touch him, your fingers only brushing against his shirt.

“Do you?” His voice was cold, and the way he looked at you—like he didn’t recognize you—cut deep. It was the look you dreaded seeing in your nightmares, and now, it was real, it ten times worse.

"I’m not saying he’s a good person. I’m just saying… it’s complicated."

He started pacing around the kitchen. "Complicated? Complicated is being stuck on an island, wondering if your sister is even alive. Complicated is dealing with the fact that the guy who screwed us over gets to play hero for one day, and now you’re defending him."

"I'm not defending him," You said, voice rising. "I just… I saw a different side of him. Maybe he can change. Or at least help put Ward away."

You never raised your voice at him.

JJ stopped and spun around to face you, his eyes blazing. "And what if he doesn't? What if this is all part of some twisted game for him? People like Rafe don't just change, okay? They manipulate, they hurt, they destroy."

“JJ—"

“You sound just like her.”

You didn’t have to ask to know what he meant. Suddenly your entire soul felt like it was being drained out and slashed into pieces. A carbon copy of your mother, your punishment. All you life, you’d been told you were like her—just as blind, just as soft.

“Don’t say that.”

“That’s exactly the type of bullshit she would spit out about dad, wasn’t it? And look where it got her.”

"That’s the kind of crap Mom used to say about Dad, remember? And look where it got her."

Memories of mom came rushing back—the excuses she made, the false hope she clung to, and the endless disappointment. You weren't like her, were you? You weren't defending a man who was never going to change. You couldn’t be. You’d spent your entire life trying not to be like her.

It wasn’t fair. You were just trying to find a shred of humanity in someone who had shown you mercy. How could he think you were blind to Rafe’s faults? You knew them all too well. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and fiercely defensive.

“I’m not her,” You finally managed to say, your voice cracking, “I’m not defending him like she did.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to make you feel better?”

Your eyes narrow into slits, “I’m not doing this with you, not right now.”

You turned away, your fists clenched at your sides as you fought to keep it together.

He followed you hot on your heels, "Don't walk away from me.”

"I'm not defending him," You insisted, your back still to him, “I’m just trying to understand, okay?”

“Understand what? Jesus, Rafe is who he is.”

"And maybe he can change," You fired back, the words spilling out despite the tightening knot in your chest. "Maybe he saved my life because he wants to change."

"He's manipulating you," JJ retorted, his jaw clenched. "Just like he always does. You went through some traumatic shit together, but that doesn't mean you owe him anything."

You stopped dead in your tracks, turning to face him again. Your head was tingling, the headache already forming itself, and you felt hot all-over. The word "traumatic" set you off.

“Some traumatic shit?” You repeated, “Are you fucking serious?”

JJ raised both his hands, tangling them in his hair in frustration, “You almost died, and now you’re standing here, defending the guy who put you in that position in the first place!"

The accusation hurt. You hated fighting with your brother and he wasn’t wrong. You hated that Rafe was coming between you both, but you couldn’t shake what you felt.

He shook his head, disappointment oozing from him, "Good luck with that. Just don't expect me to sit here and act like everything's okay."

You blinked away the dryness in your eyes, "I'm not asking you to. Can't you see that maybe things aren't as black and white as they seem?"

“All I know is what he's done to us, to you."

“And what about what he did for me?” The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth.

“And what did he do exactly?" Your lips parted to speak, but words continued to spill from his mouth, “What did you do?”

You gave no reply, unblinking, short breaths escaping you. You couldn’t let it out. Not yet. Not to him.

Not to JJ, not yet.

"I don't expect you to understand," Your voice was strained,"But I’m not turning my back on him.”

JJ's eyes narrowed; frustration etched on his face. "Why?”

“Because I want to!” The scream ripped from your throat before you could stop it, tears spilling over. "I’m still my own person, and I can make my own decisions."

He opened his mouth to fight back, but the words seemed to evaporate from his tongue. The kitchen was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing and your instant regret.

“Fine,” he muttered, turning away. “Do what you want.”

You watched him walk out of the kitchen, his back stiff with anger and disappointment. It was the first time you'd ever yelled at him, and you hated every second of it.

Alone again in the kitchen, you sank back into your chair, your energy completely drained. Part of you wanted to run after him, to explain yourself, to make him understand.

But he wouldn’t. How could he?

None of them would.

Because unlike you, they weren’t stupid enough to sympathize with Rafe Cameron.

Sitting there, you couldn't shake the feeling that you'd crossed a line. You stared at your hands, still trembling from the argument, and let out a long, shaky breath. What was it about Rafe that had such a grip on you?

You heard the front door creak open and shut—JJ leaving. Maybe that was for the best. You both needed time to cool off. You got up, poured the coffee down the sink, watching it swirl away. Weirdly, the sound was kind of comforting, like you were washing away the mess clinging to you.

You spent the entire day locked away in your room, ignoring the sun, ignoring everyone. Your phone buzzed again, and for a second, you thought about letting it go, but you couldn’t. You picked it up, expecting another call from Officer Thompson, but the name on the screen made your heart skip a beat.

Sarah.

With a deep breath, you answered. “Hey sweets.”

“Hi,” Sarah’s voice was almost unsure. “JJ and the police called earlier, told us what happened. Are you okay? I’m on the mainland with John B, we’re taking the next ferry back home.”

You closed your eyes, somewhat relieved that you wouldn’t have to face them yet.

“Yeah, I’m…Managing. I'm okay.”

“Good, that’s good,” There was a pause, and then she asked, “Have you heard anything about...Rafe?”

Had the hospital not called her? How much should you tell her.

“He’s stable. The surgery went well.”

Sarah sighed, “Good. That’s good to hear I guess.”

You bit your lip, unsure if you should ask, but you did anyway. “Sarah, did the hospital call you?”

There was a long silence on the other end before she replied, “Yeah. But I…I don’t know. I just couldn’t bring myself to answer. I knew it was coming after the police called. But—Yeah, it’s just, it’s really hard.”

You didn’t know what to say, “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re the only one not giving me shit about still… caring, I guess. He’s my brother, you know? And I want to hate him. I should hate him. But I can’t.”

"I get it, Sarah. He’s your brother. It’s okay to feel conflicted."

"Yeah," She exhaled heavily, "But I don't know how to deal with it. He's done so much harm, and yet. I keep hoping there's still some good left in him. I know there's no hope for my dad, but Rafe..."

She trailed off, and you knew exactly where she was coming from. She’d seen Rafe before Ward broke him down. And you knew she still carried that guilt—the guilt of being the favorite, never standing up for him, even when she saw Ward lose control.

“I get it,” You whispered. You were both tangled up in love and hate when it came to him, the messiness of family making it impossible to separate the two.

“He was good to me.”

There was a long pause. You expected her to hang up on you, to freak out and call you a list of degrading names, all of which you felt you deserved. She had enough at the hands of her brother— the same brother you had come to care for, despite knowing the full extent of what he’d done.

But you underestimated her. You'd momentarily forgotten just how compassionate and noble she was. She possessed a goodness smiliar to your own—loyal, forgiving, and endlessly understanding.

Both lovers and fighters.

"I know, the feds told me about the shooting," Sarah finally said, "And I think that's what makes it so hard. Picturing him as the same monster from before was a lot easier.”

You nodded even though she couldn't see you, feeling a deep ache in your chest. "Yeah."

"I don't know what to do," She confessed, her vulnerability cutting through the distance between you. "Part of me wants to see him, to talk to him. And part of me wants to never look at him again."

"I think... whatever you decide, it's okay," You offered tentatively, not entirely sure if your words were comforting or just empty platitudes.

“John B disagrees.”

“Yeah, so does JJ.”

"I appreciate you telling me about Rafe," Sarah continued, her voice softer now, more vulnerable. "I... I don't think I could have handled hearing it from anyone else."

Guilt prickled at you. “I’m sorry you had to hear it like this. I wish things were different.”

"We all do," she replied softly. "Thank you.”

“Of course," You said, "Take care of yourself.”

"You too. We'll see you soon, okay?"

"Yeah. See you soon."

You hung up and stared at your phone, the screen going dark. It matched how you felt—empty, lifeless.

You spent the next few days in a haze, avoiding JJ and the rest of your friends as much as possible. You’d only seen Sarah. Somehow her presence didn’t make you feel as nervous as you thought. It weirdly calmed you down. You’d always been close, ever since she joined the group, but now you felt like she was the only one who understood your point of view.

You knew Pope and Kie wouldn’t, and you couldn’t blame them.

Sarah never pushed you to talk, never demanded explanations. Instead, she just sat with you, shared a laugh or two, and let the silence speak for itself.

Your small house felt like a prison. It wasn’t until a week later, as you sat on the beach watching the waves crash against the shore, that your phone buzzed with a message. It was the officer: "Rafe’s awake."

Your heart jumped straight into your throat. You still hadn’t told anyone the full story about what happened between you and Rafe, and honestly, you didn’t even know if you ever could. They knew the basics—he was in the hospital, you both got caught in a shooting, and somehow, he’d saved your life. That’s all anyone knew.

But now, with him awake... you were completely lost.

With shaky hands, you fumbled for the phone, dialing the number the officer had given you. It rang a few times, "Hello, this is St. Michael Hospital. How can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm calling to check on a patient, Rafe Cameron. I was told he’s awake."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, just the faint sound of keys clicking away. "Yes, Mr. Cameron is awake. Are you a family member?" the nurse asked.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. "No. Uh, a friend, I guess—" You almost started rambling, but instead, you settled for, “Can you tell him Maybank’s calling?”

"Okay, just a minute, please."

You stared at the sand, biting your lip, trying to figure out what you’d even say to him. When the nurse finally came back on, her voice was softer, almost pitiful, and you immediately knew you weren't going to like her answer.

"I’m sorry. Mr. Cameron has requested not to speak with you," she said. "Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

Your whole body went numb. You wanted to throw the phone, scream into the void, drown yourself in the ocean and not come up until you didn’t feel anything anymore.

What the hell?

You’d spent weeks thinking about him, on edge, worrying if he was gonna make it, praying for him even though you weren’t even sure you believed in any of that. And now...he didn’t want to speak to you? Unbelievabl, like all of it—every single moment you spent worrying, crying, hoping—it was for nothing. You didn't have it in you to put up a fight.

"No, that's all. Thanks," you mumbled before hanging up.

You stared at your phone, trying to process it. Rafe didn’t want to talk to you. It was like someone ripped the ground from under you. Everything you thought you had shared, everything he did for you, saving your life... Had any of it mattered to him?

Had you just imagined it?

You tried to think back—Rafe had kissed you, touched you like you were precious, like he didn’t want to break you. And that moment when he’d saved you—had that meant nothing to him? Maybe you were just fooling yourself. Maybe, to him, you were just a temporary distraction, someone who didn’t mean anything outside of that life-or-death situation. Just a pogue.

You were just sitting there, staring out at the water, trying not to fall apart. The sun felt too bright, the world too loud, everything too much. The anger, the hurt, the confusion—Before you even realized what you were doing, a scream tore out of you, raw and guttural.

It ripped through the air, echoing across the beach as if it could somehow take away everything inside. Tears came next, hot and salty, and you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to.

Without warning, a scream ripped from your throat, raw and unfiltered. It echoed across the empty beach, a primal release of everything you had been bottling up. You hadn’t cried properly in weeks.

You screamed until your throat was raw, until you had nothing left to give. The sun cast long shadows on the sand, the beach deserted except for you. Collapsing back onto the sand, you let the tears flow freely.

There was no one to judge you, no one to see you fall apart. You’d spent a lifetime pulling yourself together, it was only fair you finally got to breathe properly. When the tears subsided, you wiped your face with the back of your hand and took a shuddering breath. The tightness in your chest began to ease, replaced by a hollow ache.

You were many things, but none of them were weak and yet...It was almost unbearable, the way your mind replayed every interaction, every look, every word, searching for signs you might have missed, clues that would have warned you not to get attached.

Footsteps crunched in the sand, and you tensed, knowing who it was even before you turned to look. JJ. Of course, it was him. You still weren’t ready to face him after the argument. But he sat down next to you without saying a word, just looking out at the water like you were.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you expected.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry for what I said about Mom,” he continued, sounding just as broken as you felt, “I shouldn’t have compared you to her. That wasn’t fair.”

You swallowed hard, your throat still aching from the scream. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “I get it.”

“I did, and I didn’t,” he admitted. “I just... I don’t want to see you get hurt. I don’t trust him, and I hate that you’ve been caught up in all this.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

JJ turned to you, frowning, “What do you mean?”

“I called the hospital. They said he’s awake, but he doesn’t want to speak with me.”

You could barely get the words out without choking up.

Your brother frowned, his protective instincts flaring up. “That fucking piece of shit. After everything—”

You shook your head, cutting him off gently. ““Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s for the best.”

JJ sighed, softening as he looked at you. “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you nodded, trying to believe his words. “I just... I thought there was more to it. That maybe he could change.”

“People like Rafe... it’s hard to change.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill again.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong for wanting to see the good in him.”

He spoke with such gentleness and wisdom. You forgot he wasn’t a kid anymore. That he’d also done his fair share of growing up way too fast.

You leaned into his touch, “I know.”

“We’ll get through this,” JJ said firmly. “Together. You and me, like always.”

You nodded, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the beach, you and JJ sat there in silence. The waves continued to crash against the shore, a reminder that life moved forward, even when it felt like everything was falling apart.

Maybe things would never go back to the way they were, but you had your brother, your friends, and a resilience you didn't know it was capable of existing until then.

Six months had gone by since that day, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Life had somewhat gone back to normal, or at least a version of it. The days were getting hotter, like the summer was showing off, making everything sticky and slow. You’d spent the afternoon alone, sprawled out on the couch with a book you weren’t really reading, barely feeling the breeze from the old fan struggling against the heat.

You were in the middle of rereading the same sentence for the third time when loud banging on the door made you jump. The knock was so aggressive it had to be someone with a serious problem, and the sound jolted you upright.

You groaned, rolling off the couch and heading for the door. "What the—"

Before you could even finish, you yanked the door open, annoyance already building up. And then, just like that, it drained out of you.

“Rafe?”

It was him. Standing there. Looking... well, looking alive, which was more than you expected after months of silence.

You froze, staring at him, and instinct kicked in. You tried to slam the door in his face, but he was quick. His hand caught the edge, holding it open. “Seriously?” you hissed, shoving harder. “Get the hell off my porch.”

"Maybank—"

"If you don't get off my property, I swear to fucking God—"

“Wait—Maybank—just listen.”

“Nope. Get lost. Now.”

“Please.” His voice cracked, and his hand shook where it held the door. “Just give me a minute.”

You glared at him, every instinct telling you to push harder, to shut him out. But something in his eyes—fear, desperation, a flicker of the Rafe you once knew—gave you pause.

The last time you saw him, he was bleeding out and terrifyingly pale. It wasn’t the cocky Rafe you remembered. The last time you saw him, he was bleeding out, barely conscious. And now he was just... here. What the hell was he doing here?

The last update you had on him was from Sarah, months ago. He had left the hospital and kept sporadic contact, reaching out to her only every few weeks. You never asked her about his well-being or what he was doing; despite guessing that he was cooperating with the police.

At least you hoped he was.

You were determined not to care anymore.

He leaned against the doorframe, looking worn out in a way that made you pause for a second too long. “You look good."

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. Was he for real?

You were going to slap the lack of common sense out of him. You weren’t about to let him waltz back in like nothing had happened.

You scoffed, not letting your guard down. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down, trying to find the words as he scratched the back of his head, “I... I needed to see you. To talk.”

“Yeah, no. Get back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

You tried to slam the door again, but he held firm. “Please, just let me explain.”

“You had six months to explain.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was— It’s messed up, okay?" his words coming out rushed and uneven. ”I’m still working with the feds. I was losing it. Still am, probably. But I need to explain. Please, Maybank, just a minute.”

Maybe it was the part of you that used to care, or maybe you just needed answers after everything that had happened. You stepped back, letting the door open just enough for him to walk in.

“Fine. Talk.”

Rafe stepped inside, looking around your small living room as if seeing it for the first time, which you now realized he'd never been in your house. And now that he was standing here, you regretted letting him in.

He turned to face you, his expression earnest. “I didn’t know what to say. I felt—“, He took a deep breath, cheeks puffing, “Ashamed. I don’t know.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, keeping a safe distance between you.

“Ashamed? You’ve done a lot of things to be ashamed of. You can’t just show up after six months and expect everything to be fine.”

“I know,” He admitted, taking a deliberate small step closer to you, “I wasn’t expecting that. I just... I wanted to tell you that I’m trying. I’m in therapy and rehab, trying to get clean. I’ve been going to meetings. It’s been hell, but I’m trying.”

You looked at him, searching for any sign of deceit. His eyes were clear, more focused than you had ever seen them. He wasn't high.

You eyed him skeptically. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because you’re the only person who ever saw anything good in me. And I can’t forget that. I don’t deserve it, but I need you to know that your faith in me wasn’t for nothing.”

The vulnerability in his voice took you by surprise. You had expected anger, arrogance, manipulation—but this was different. Genuine. It felt like you were back in that motel room, in his arms.

You scoffed, turning away from him. “Is that all? That’s why you showed up here out of nowhere?”

“No, it’s not,” he said, sounding more desperate. “I just—Shit. I need to make things right. With you. I don’t know how, but I need to try.”

You took a deep breath.

You didn’t want to talk to me.”

He winced at that, his guilt obvious. “I was scared, okay? I didn’t know how to handle it. I still don’t. But I’m here now, trying to fix what I broke.”

Part of you wanted to believe him, to give him another chance, but the other part of you—the part that had been hurt and abandoned—was screaming not to fall for it again.

“So you shut me out?” You snapped, “You made me feel like I meant nothing.”

“That’s not true,” He snapped back, head whipping up, then immediately softened his tone, taking another step closer. “That’s not true. You mean more to me than you’ll ever know. I was getting better for you."

“Don’t lie to me.”

Rafe looked offended, eyes zeroing in on your lips before his gaze met yours. That's when you felt it again, “I never lied to you, pretty.”

You recoiled at the nickname, taking a step back, needing space.

“Cameron.”

Another step closer. His eyes pleading with you to understand.

You were staring up at him now, the look on your face completely unreadable. You were waiting for an answer, but he had a feeling that no matter what answer he gave, it wouldn't make a difference.

"I never lied to you," He repeated, his voice shaking slightly. "I was scared and confused, but I never lied.”

“Scared and confused? That’s your excuse?”

Rafe flinched at your words, but he didn't back down. “I know how it sounds. I handled it all wrong. I’m trying to fix it.”

“You think saying sorry and showing up out of the blue makes it better?"

His hands reached out, his palms open as if he was dealing with a wounded animal. “I’m not asking for forgiveness right away. I just want a chance to make things right.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You spat, your voice trembling with emotion, “How it felt, watching you almost die. I spent days wondering if you were going to be—”

You stopped yourself, knowing that if you continued your voice would crack and the tears would start pouring down your cheeks.

You already cried enough for him.

Rafe’s expression softened, and he reached out tentatively, his hand stopping inches from your arm. “I’m sorry, baby.”

You took a step back, putting more distance between you, needing the space to think clearly. “I needed you to be sorry six months ago.”

It’s only then, when your brain cleared slightly that you noticed he looked different. His hair had been buzzed, his skin looked tanner than the last time you’d seen him, he looked healthier.

Rafe noticed your eyes wandering to his head and ran a hand through his short hair, a hint of a self-conscious smile flickering across his lips.

“Yeah, I uh, made some changes. Trying to start over, I guess.”

“I’m happy for you, but I can’t do this.”

“Pretty—"

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you cut him off, “I feel guilty enough as it is around everyone else.”

“I told Sarah.”

His words hit you like a punch to your gut.

“What?”

“About us.”

You felt your stomach drop and your vision narrow, the world tilting sideways. “You what?”

“I told her.”

“You absolute fucking—” You hissed, your voice rising without warning, “Are you serious?!”

“I thought it was the right thing to do,” His tone faltered to one that could’ve fallen on deaf ears if not attentive enough. “I needed someone to talk to, and she’s…my sister.”

You were fuming, pacing the room. “Do you realize what that could do? My life here—everything—could be ruined because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

Rafe flinched, taking a step back. “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“Of course you didn’t,” You nearly growled, pacing the small living room. “You never think about anyone but yourself, do you?”

“Listen— “ He opened his mouth undoubtedly to fire back with another half-assed apology - but you barreled forward, letting the months of bottled resentment continue to burst open.

“You’re so selfish.”

“She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone,” His throat bobbed in an audible gulp, “It’s okay.”

“You really believe that?” You stopped pacing and turned to face him, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “This is too much for her to keep to herself. It’ll eat away at her until she tells someone. And when that happens, my life here is over.”

Rafe looked stricken, “I just—I needed someone to understand what I’m going through.”

For the first time, he took the time to explain what was going on in his head instead of letting his frustrations take over and kissing you.

“And what about what I’m going through?” You demanded. “Did you ever stop to think about that? I’ve been trying to move on, to rebuild my life, and you just waltz back in and blow everything up.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You spotted his sun-kissed freckles. They wouldn’t be noticeable if you hadn’t looked at him so closely before.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” Bitterness began to overpower the pit of your heaving chest, “Sorry doesn’t make it go away. You can’t just undo what you’ve done.”

“I know,” One shaky hand scrubbed over his face, refusing to meet your wide-eyed stare., “But I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. I swear.”

“Make it right? You can’t make this right, Rafe.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m trying, pretty. I really am.”

You felt a smidge of sympathy despite your anger.

You could see the pain and desperation in his eyes, the same pain and desperation you had felt for the past six months. But that didn’t change the fact that he left you hanging for so long.

“I need you to leave."

You expected him to put up a fight, to lash out, hide his emotions with empty threats and petty names. But he didn’t. Instead, he nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly as he turned to leave. You watched him go in silence.

Part of you wanted to run after him, to give him another chance, to believe that he could change. But another part—the part that had been hurt and left to heal on its own—knew that it wasn’t that simple.

You had to protect yourself, even if it meant shutting him out for good.

Rafe paused in the doorway, his back to you. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried clearly through the thick air. "I don’t regret it," he repeated, his shoulders tensing as he spoke.

You blinked, taken aback. "What?"

He turned slightly, just enough for you to see the raw honesty in his eyes. "I don’t regret what happened. Between us. I regret how I handled it, how I hurt you, but I don’t regret feeling something real for once."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the suffocating heat seemed to dissipate, replaced by a cold clarity. You crossed your arms tighter around yourself, trying to hold onto your anger, your resolve. But his words had hit a nerve, bringing back memories you’d tried so hard to bury.

You looked away, unable to look at him, "It doesn’t change anything."

"I know.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving you standing there, your heart in pieces all over again. You pushed away from the door, needing something to distract yourself.

You picked up your book, but the words blurred on the page. You tossed it aside, your thoughts too chaotic to focus. Instead, you paced the small living room, replaying the conversation in your mind.

You eventually collapsed onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. You did the right thing, so why did it hurt so bad?

You felt like a wound had been reopened, and you hated him for it.

But you hated yourself more for letting him get to you.

The hours dragged on, the sun dipping below the horizon and casting long shadows through the windows. You tried to lose yourself in anything—TV, reading, cleaning—nothing worked.

You only saw Rafe's face, his desperate eyes, his trembling hands.

You remembered the feel of his skin, the sound of his voice when he was vulnerable. The memories were too real, too persistent. You couldn't bring yourself to explain it to yourself. Your eyes begin to itch, warning you to think of something else.

Anything else but Rafe.

Was this heartbreak? No—it couldn't be. Why did it still hurt?

You weren't in love with Rafe Cameron.

At least, you didn't think you were.

You had never allowed yourself to consider it, to dwell on what you felt for him. But now, in the stillness of your small living room…it was different. You never had a good parental figure to teach you these things. All you knew was destruction, violence, and heartbreak. And although you’d done pretty well for yourself, all things considered, this was new to you.

You had tried so hard to suppress your feelings, to deny your connection with him. But this…wasn’t something that could be easily forgotten or ignored. You had been so afraid to admit it, fearing that acknowledging would destroy you.

You were in love with Rafe Cameron.

674 notes · View notes

urfavangelss · 15 days ago

Text

warnings:smut,rough sex,boss fucking,after dinner,a little bit of fluff at the end credits to @angelx,"Filling you under mine",I just couldn't help to not continue it,love her stories!!💕

“Dinner. Aftercare. And round two.”,those words hit like a brick,hitting right in-between your legs,where they were intended to hit

you found herself dolling up,putting on that glamorous sparkly short dress your bought a couple of days ago, curling your hair,and putting on makeup,just a little bit though.

since the job payed AMAZING(a̶n̶d̶ ̶s̶i̶n̶c̶e̶ ̶B̶a̶k̶u̶g̶o̶u̶ ̶h̶a̶d̶ ̶t̶a̶k̶e̶n̶ ̶a̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶) you propped yourself onto black Louis Vuitton heels,looking at yourself a couple of times in the vanity mirror next to you to make sure you looked gorgeous for Katsuki.

you rushed out of her apartment, grabbing her purse and keys,your heels clanked against the pavement,making sounds to let people know what you're wearing and who you're wearing it for.

you heard a loud car beep,turned around only to see Bakugou waiting for her,in a sexy black Porsche,smirking as soon as he saw how short the dress was,even if he knew he was going to discard it later.

"All dolled up for me, sweetheart?"Bakugou teased, making your knees tremble

you only nodded, couldn't make a sound due to the mild distraction of a man Infront of you.

you sat down on the passenger seat,as soon as you did so you felt a big hand press against your thigh, making you shiver completely.

you drove in silence, the only thing from making you go bonkers was the faint car music in the background and his hand stroking up and down your thigh

"Almost there"he said in a gravelly voice,making you clench your thighs together "You have no idea how hard I'm gonna destroy you later"

you looked at him and gulped flustered and he just smirked wider,stopping the car and making his way out to hold your door.

Bakugou held you by the waist as you made your way into the restaurant, popular rap music being tuned on inside,it looked really fancy,flowers,marble and other shit that made it look really nice!

"Name of the reservation?"the man from the front spoke out, unfolding a book of reservations, looking at you two under his eyebrows

"Katsuki, reservation for 7PM sharp"he growled and led you by your curves,following the anxious man that had just nodded and lead the way

after looking at the menu, Katsuki hissed,

"Can't even read this shit"he squinted hard.

when you giggled he looked over the menu to you holding a sexy grin,making you flustered and stop giggling.

after eating,he grabbed you by the wrist,making you gasp and led you out after handing the waiter money all in cash from his fancy leather wallet.

you drove back to his apartment that looked more like a pent house to you,marble kitchen counters,jacuzzi in the bathroom and on the balcony,biggest TV and couch you've ever seen with your two pretty eyes,you were quite surprise,being that this man had lived alone and still being luxurious.

Bakugou fastly unlocked the door,grunting as he got in,visibly horny as fuck.he pushed you back on to his long modern couch.

"Pick,whether I'm fucking you in the jacuzzi or in the bed"He hissed

you looked up at him,as he was towering over you panting like his life depended on it,you opened your mouth,your lip trembling but no sound came out.

"I said pick sweetheart,don't make me wait long,I can't handle that"he demanded,oh boy was he horny.

"T-the bed"you insisted your voice not even higher than a whisper,you literally picked the first that came to mind,not being able to pick with this sexy man Infront of you.

he picked you up without warning,walking over to his bed and plopping you onto it,you yelped,making his cock twitch as he saw parts of your panties from under your short dress.

he turned you around so you were on all four,perking your plump little ass for him,he unzipped the dress,falling over you

"Shit,baby"he groaned,sliding your barely covering thong to the side and unclasping your bra.

quickly,he unbuckled his belt,and sliding his boxers to his knees,dick sprung free,hard, glistening,with pre cum oozing out of the top from even seeing you like this.

"You know what you do to me with that thing you call underwear"he grunted and stroked himself a few times before plunging deep into you.

your pussy twitched,a whimper escaping your "innocent" lips,he was about to show you how not innocent you were as soon as you were being demolished and pumped into by him.

he thrusted hard and deep into you, bruising your cervix with every pump,you clenched around him,getting a slap on the ass as an approval.

"Ah-fuck-you little minx"he groaned,his hips slapping against your ass,he was holding your hips so hard you thought they'd be bruised as hell.

"Mm-K-katsuki!"was the only thing you could moan out as your tight little pussy was burning against his long girthy dick.

"Sh-im gon' cum"he grunted and held your hips tightly before erupting like a 7th grade science class volcano inside of you,oozing down your legs,pulling out to see the cum oozing out your pussy.

you fell chest front into the bed, playing with your sore nipples as he slapped your ass once more before putting his boxers back on and your thong back on.

"We should go shower,don't wanna be late for work tomorrow,and your ass is not going"Bakugou granted you a non-work day for as a reward for being a good girl.

you stepped into the shower,he was humming behind you,washing your back and smacking your ass once more as you whimper his name.

after you stepped out,he gave you his shirt with his own name onto it, smirking proudly,you two layed into bed,cuddling.

"W-was I good?"you whispered,he loved that sweet "innocent" voice,made him hard again

"Amazin',now sleep sweets,don't want you tired in the mornin'"he grumbled and buried his head into your chest as you scratched his head.

you loved fucking with your boss,even if nobody knew about that,it was still your dirty little secret<3

GIF CREDITS: lurking doll and systatic!^^

#mha #mha bakugou #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #mha smut #bakugou smut #boss

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natsaffection · 1 year ago

Note

do you think you could write a second part to the coach fic where during practice natasha convinces reader to sneak off with her and reader gives her a blow job :))

Reward Pt. 2 | N.R

MINORS DNI 18+!

Warnings: G!P Natasha (32), kinda manipulative, blow job

Word count: 870 words

A/n: first time writing a blowjob 🫠

Part 1

The training session was in full swing and the rhythmic sound of sneakers on the pitch provided a familiar backdrop. Concentrated and motivated, the team went through exercises and games under Natasha's watchful eye. Unbeknownst to the rest of the players, there was a secret connection beneath the surface.

Moving through the training routine with precision, you couldn't lose Natasha's gaze. Natasha, standing on the sidelines, had her usual stoic expression, but her eyes told a different story. A subtle grin played on her lips as she watched your maneuvers.

As you dribbled the ball, you felt Natasha's gaze intensify, a gaze that seemed to bear the weight of your secret connection. After a while, Natasha gathered the team together to discuss the nuances of a particular move, her gaze lingering on you with a knowing glint. Unaware of the hidden dynamics, the rest of the team listened intently as Natasha explained the intricacies of executing a perfect rondo.

“Well, team, the Rondo is a crucial move that can surprise the opponents,” Natasha explained, turning her gaze back to you. “Y/n, you’re at the center, orchestrating the moves. It’s all about precision and quick decisions.”

But you hesitate. "Coach, I'm not sure the Rondo is the best option here. I think a pick-and-roll could open up more scoring opportunities."

There's a brief silence in the gym as Natasha's eyes met yours and the unspoken challenge hung in the air. The team exchanged glances, unaware of the hidden disagreement unfolding before them.

Natasha stepped closer to you, seemingly unfazed. “Everyone else is going according to my plan,” she said loudly in the hall, her eyes never leaving you, “and you’re coming with me.”

Everyone looked at you with pity and you just wanted to sink into the ground in front of her. Natasha didn't looked away and then took a step back to go into her office. You run after her and hear a few whispers of “good luck.”

In Natasha's office, the weight of your opinion still weighed on you, and there was an underlying tension in the air. Natasha turned her gaze to you and lowered her gaze to your lips for a moment. A subtle, knowing smile played on Natasha's lips as she leaned in, her voice becoming a more sultry tone.

“I have to admit, that wasn’t so stupid. But beware of you questioning my competence in front of the team again." You look at her and nod, noticing how Natasha's hands go down to her pants, "Maybe it's time to put your talented mouth to better use. What do you think?"

The proposal hung in the air, laden with a seductive implication that transcended professional boundaries. You were caught in the magnetic pull of Natasha's words and felt heat rising within you.

Natasha unbuckled her belt, unzipped her pants, and then reached in to pull her cock out. The sight already made your mouth water, but you held back and looked into her cold eyes. “Well, what are you waiting for?” You barely had a chance to open your mouth before your Head was pushed down and her thick shaft was pushed between your lips.

“Yes, that’s it,” Natasha grunted, pushing herself forward until she was almost down your throat. “The only thing your little mouth is good for, right? Come on, suck it..”

The words stuck in your gut, creating a burning pit of pleasure that rushed down to your pussy, making you moan around the cock in your mouth. Natasha placed her hands on either side of your head and began fucking your mouth in earnest. “Fuck yes, that’s going to cum right down my little slut’s throat,” she gasped. “Yes, right there, y-yes, shit!”

You hesitantly swirled your tongue around the tip of her cock and were pleased when you heard her let out a shuddering "yes."

A little unsure, you moved your knee, came a little closer and wrapped a hand around the base of Natasha’s cock. Then you took more into your mouth, surprised that you were taking up so much space and gasping when you felt Natasha's finger tangle in your hair.

“Careful.” It was all muffled and raspy and quiet in a way that made your stomach clench with both desire and embarrassment. You begin sucking the cock like it was an oversized baby bottle and were rewarded with a deep growl of approval and a rather sharp tug on your hair.

You felt tears forming in your eyes, and you were too distracted by your body's reactions to realize that what you were doing was good. A shot of “Coming” slid down her throat as she came in your mouth, making you cough. You awkwardly try to swallow. One thing was for sure, though: this tasted much stronger than you expected, and you really wondered if you could ever get used to it.

You wipe away her remains and stand back up. Natasha already put her cock back in her pants and looked at you until she came to you and pulled you into a kiss. She let go and also wiped a small residue from your mouth with her thumb, “Good girl. Now let’s finish training outside.”

#natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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elliecore4eva · 4 months ago

Text

Part 4 of THE SUNSHINE THAT FELL FAR FROM THE SKY

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Sunshine! Joel's Daughter! Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst/ Fluff

REDEMPTION ARC

ATTEMPT ONE: THE LETTER

Ellie doesn’t know how to say the right thing anymore.

Every time she sees you, she freezes. Her throat locks up, and suddenly, all the words she’s been practicing in her head crumble into dust.

So she writes.

The letter is messy, uneven. She starts over four times, each attempt crumpled and tossed onto her bedroom floor.

But finally, she gets one down that doesn’t make her want to punch a hole through the wall.

She folds it carefully and slips it under your door.

You find it the next morning. Your fingers hover over the paper for a second too long before you unfold it.

Bunny, I don’t know how to fix this. But I need you to know that I want to. I’m sorry doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s all I have right now. Please don’t shut me out. Please don’t let that night be the last thing I ever get to be in your story. -E

You read it. You read it twice.

And then you fold it up and tuck it into your bedside drawer.

You don’t throw it away.

But you don’t answer, either.

Ellie waits. She checks her door every hour for a reply that never comes.

When she finally sees you in town later that day, her heart jumps into her throat.

She rushes toward you—only to halt when she sees Dina walking beside you, her hand resting gently on your back. You’re listening to whatever she’s saying, but there’s a distance in your eyes.

Dina glances up, sees Ellie, and her expression hardens.

Ellie doesn’t need words to understand what Dina is saying.

"Not yet. You don’t get to rush this."

So Ellie swallows her desperation and lets you walk away.

She’ll try again.

ATTEMPT TWO: THE SONG

Ellie’s guitar has always been her safe place.

And now? She wants to make it yours.

One night, she sets up on your porch.

She knows you’re home. The candlelight flickering through your window tells her that.

So she starts playing.

It’s a song she wrote for you.

Soft, aching, full of regret and longing.

And for a moment, she thinks she sees your shadow shift behind the curtain.

But you don’t come out.

You don’t stop her.

But you don’t let her in, either.

She plays until her fingers hurt, until her voice gets raw—until she has nothing left to give.

And then she leaves.

Joel is waiting for her on the steps when she gets home.

"That go how you wanted it to?"

Ellie sighs, running a hand down her face. "No."

Joel leans back, watching her.

"You don’t give up on people you love, kid."

Ellie doesn’t need to be told that.

She already knows.

She’ll try again.

ATTEMPT THREE: THE DOG

A week passes before her next attempt.

She hates waiting. But Jesse tells her, "You push too hard, and she’ll shut down completely."

So she waits.

And then she gets an idea.

Stormy, the little gray mutt that you love more than anything, has been acting off. Pacing outside your house, waiting by the stables. Whining.

She misses you.

Just like the whole town does.

Ellie scratches behind Stormy’s ears, muttering, "You miss her, huh?"

The dog just wags her tail, eyes hopeful.

Ellie sighs, running a hand over her face before gripping Stormy’s collar gently.

"Alright, c’mon. Let’s go see our favorite girl."

Bill and Frank, sitting on their porch nearby, both pause mid-conversation.

Bill raises an eyebrow. "Our favorite girl?"

Frank smirks, leaning into him. "Oh, she’s down bad."

Ellie pretends she doesn’t hear them. Her face is already burning enough.

She just takes a breath and walks Stormy to your door.

And when you open it, your breath catches.

Because it’s not just Ellie.

Stormy is practically vibrating with excitement, pawing at your legs, licking your hands.

And for the first time in weeks��you smile.

It’s small. Barely there. But Ellie sees it.

She doesn’t say anything. She just shoves her hands into her pockets and mutters, "She missed you."

You nod, swallowing. "I missed her too."

Not I missed you.

But Ellie will take it.

It’s a start.

Bill watches the whole thing from across the street.

"That kid’s got it bad."

Frank hums, crossing his arms. "She deserves to suffer a little."

Bill smirks. "Oh, she’s sufferin’, alright."

And Ellie?

She knows they’re right.

She deserves this.

But she’s not giving up.

She’ll try again.

ATTEMPT FOUR: THE ROUTE (WITH BILL AND FRANK’S INTERVENTION)

Ellie doesn’t know if you’ll ever look at her the same way again.

That’s the thought that’s been eating her alive for weeks now.

Because it’s not just that you won’t talk to her.

It’s everything.

It’s how you used to gravitate toward her without thinking—touching her wrist, leaning into her side, kissing her cheek just because you could.

It’s how your voice used to light up when you saw her. How you used to say her name like it was your favorite word.

Now?

Now you don’t even look at her.

And Ellie is drowning.

So she tries again.

This time, she does something she knows will get your attention.

She changes patrol routes.

You hear about it before she can tell you herself.

Maria is the one who lets it slip.

"You’ll be taking the west route tomorrow."

You frown, confused. "I thought Ellie and I were on that route?"

Maria gives you a look. "Ellie requested a switch."

Your stomach drops.

She… switched?

Ellie—who hates change and always said she felt safest when she was patrolling with you?

Ellie, who once told you, "If we’re gonna die out there, at least I get to die looking at you."

She switched?

Maria hesitates, clearly watching your reaction.

"She, uh… she said she didn’t want to make you uncomfortable."

You swallow hard.

She did this for you.

And for the first time in weeks, you don’t know how to feel.

That night, you find her.

She’s sitting on her porch steps, hands clasped together, staring at nothing.

When she sees you approaching, her entire body tenses.

She wasn’t expecting this.

You sit down next to her—not too close, but close enough.

And for the first time in weeks, you break the silence first.

"You didn’t have to switch routes."

Ellie lets out a breath, rubbing the back of her neck. "I know."

You hesitate. "I don’t want you to… avoid me."

Ellie turns to you so fast it almost startles you.

"I wasn’t—I’m not avoiding you, Bunny." Her voice is quiet, desperate. "I just… I didn’t want you to feel trapped with me."

You look down at your hands.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

And then you hear Ellie inhale sharply.

"I—fuck, I miss you so much."

Your fingers twitch in your lap.

She sounds broken.

Like she doesn’t know how to do this anymore.

Like losing you has shattered her.

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a breath.

"I should go."

You stand up. Ellie’s hands clench into fists, like she’s physically stopping herself from reaching for you.

But she doesn’t stop you.

She won’t.

She’ll let you set the pace.

Even if it kills her.

Bill and Frank watch from their window.

Bill sighs. "She’s gettin’ there."

Frank leans against his shoulder. "Slowly."

Bill smirks. "Good. Let her suffer a little more."

Frank chuckles. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

Bill shrugs. "Just a little."

They watch Ellie drop her head into her hands.

Frank’s amusement fades. "Maybe we should help her."

Bill scoffs. "Help her? Why the hell would we—"

Ellie suddenly lets out the loudest, most miserable groan.

Bill and Frank both jump.

Then they stare.

Ellie drags her hands down her face, muttering, "I’m gonna fucking die."

Bill’s eyebrows shoot up.

Frank blinks.

They look at each other.

Then back at Ellie.

Then back at each other.

Bill clears his throat. "Yeah, alright. Maybe we should help her."

ATTEMPT FIVE: BILL AND FRANK’S INTERVENTION

Bill and Frank decide to intervene.

Because at this point, watching Ellie suffer is almost painful for them too.

Sure, Bill might have enjoyed watching her stew in her own mistakes for a bit—serves her right for screwing up so badly—but even he has to admit that this is getting pathetic.

Ellie looks haunted.

She barely eats. She barely sleeps. She’s snapping at everyone.

And the worst part?

She still worships you.

Every time she sees you in town, she stares like she’s starving.

Like you’re the only thing that could ever make her feel whole again.

And every time you pass her without stopping, without smiling, she looks like someone just ripped her heart out.

So yeah.

Bill and Frank decide to do something about it.

It starts with a trap.

Ellie comes back from patrol, exhausted, covered in dirt, and just ready to collapse.

But the moment she reaches her front door, she pauses.

Because Bill and Frank are standing on her porch.

Waiting.

Bill crosses his arms. Frank waves.

Ellie groans. "What now?"

Frank grins. "Sit your ass down."

She doesn’t move.

So Bill grabs her shoulder and forces her onto the porch step.

"Jesus, okay! Fuck, I’m sitting!"

Frank sits next to her, nudging her boot with his own. "Kid, you look like shit."

Bill snorts.

Ellie glares. "Thanks, Frank. That helps."

Bill leans against the porch railing, squinting at her. "You still in the doghouse?"

Ellie lets out a long, pained sigh. "Oh, I don’t think I even live in the house anymore, Bill. I think I’m in the goddamn yard, under the goddamn dirt."

Frank whistles lowly. "Damn."

Bill shakes his head. "Serves you right."

Ellie groans again, flopping back against the steps. "You guys suck at this."

Frank pats her knee. "We’re not here to make you feel better, kid. We’re here to tell you how to fix it."

Ellie blinks.

Because that’s new.

She sits up quickly. "Wait, you actually have advice?"

Bill grumbles. "Unfortunately."

Frank grins. "You know what she loves, right?"

Ellie stares. "Uh. Yeah? Of course?"

Frank shrugs. "Then make her remember it."

Bill sighs, rubbing his temples. "Look, kid. You fucked up."

Ellie nods.

"You said some dumbass shit."

She nods harder.

"And you’re lucky she still lets you breathe the same air as her."

Ellie nods so hard her neck starts to hurt.

Frank laughs. "God, you are so in love with her."

Ellie scowls. "Was that not obvious?"

Bill smirks. "Oh, it was obvious." He gestures at her. "But watching you be a lovesick dumbass is hilarious."

Ellie glares. "Okay, great talk, guys, really—"

Frank grabs her arm. "Ellie. Listen."

She does.

Frank leans in, voice serious. "She loves stars, doesn’t she?"

Ellie stiffens.

Because yeah.

You do.

You’ve always loved them. You used to drag Ellie out at night just to watch them, even on freezing cold nights. You used to lie beside her, pointing at constellations, teaching her their names.

And the worst part?

You haven’t been going outside at night at all since she broke your heart.

Ellie swallows. "She hasn’t been stargazing."

Frank nods.

"So take her."

Ellie’s stomach twists. "She won’t come with me."

Bill rolls his eyes. "Then don’t ask."

Ellie stares.

Bill huffs. "Kid, you’ve been trying to fix this by saying sorry over and over again. And it ain’t working. You gotta show her who you are. Show her who she is to you."

Frank smiles. "Make her remember how it feels to love you."

Ellie feels her heart clench.

Because fuck.

They’re right.

She swallows hard, eyes burning.

"How?"

Bill shrugs. "Figure it out. You’re the whipped one here."

Frank laughs.

And Ellie?

Ellie gets to work.

ATTEMPT SIX: UNDER THE STARS

Ellie doesn’t sleep that night.

Instead, she plans.

Because Bill and Frank are right—words aren’t enough anymore.

You don’t trust her words. You don’t trust her promises. And honestly? She doesn’t blame you.

So if she can’t tell you she’s still yours, she’ll have to show you.

The next evening, just as the sun starts to set, Ellie sets her trap.

She knows your routine. Even if you don’t talk to her anymore, she still sees you—quietly taking care of Jackson, giving the town your warmth even when you’re running on empty.

And tonight?

She uses that against you.

Ellie stations herself outside Maria’s house, where she knows you’ll be stopping to drop off supplies.

When she sees you approaching, arms full of food rations, she doesn’t hesitate.

She steps into your path, hands stuffed in her pockets, trying to ignore the way her heart clenches when you immediately tense at the sight of her.

"Hey."

You don’t answer.

She swallows. "Look, I know you don’t wanna see me. But can you come with me? Just for a little bit?"

You shift uncomfortably, adjusting your grip on the food. "I have things to do."

Ellie shakes her head. "Not tonight, you don’t."

You blink, startled by her certainty.

And then—Maria’s voice rings out from the house.

"Go with her."

You turn sharply. "What?"

Maria appears in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable. "You’re done for the night. Whatever this is, it’s more important."

You stare at her, mouth opening—but Maria shuts the door before you can argue.

Ellie watches as you slowly exhale, visibly frustrated.

But after a long, agonizing pause—

You give in.

You set the food down on Maria’s porch.

Then you turn back to Ellie.

"Fine. Let’s go."

Ellie doesn’t speak as she leads you out of Jackson.

She just walks, steps careful, nerves fraying with every second that passes.

She’s not sure what she expected—maybe for you to call her out, demand an explanation.

But you don’t say a word.

You just follow.

Ellie clenches her fists, stomach twisting as she sneaks glances at you.

You look tired.

Tired in a way she’s never seen before.

And fuck, that’s her fault.

She bites her lip hard enough to hurt, turning her gaze back ahead.

Just a little further.

When she finally stops, you hesitate.

Because you recognize this place.

You stare at the grassy clearing, the old tree you used to lean against, the familiar stretch of sky just beginning to darken—

And your heart aches.

Ellie swallows.

"You stopped stargazing."

You flinch.

Ellie watches you carefully, hands twitching with the urge to reach for you, to hold you.

"So I figured..." She clears her throat. "If you weren’t gonna go by yourself, maybe I could—"

"Ellie."

Her heart stutters.

You stare at her, expression unreadable. "You brought me here to stargaze?"

Ellie nods.

You blink.

Then you laugh—quiet, hollow.

"Ellie, you—" You shake your head. "You don’t get to just bring me here and expect everything to be okay."

Ellie flinches. "I know."

"Then why—"

"Because this was ours."

Your breath catches.

Ellie steps closer. "This was ours. And I fucking destroyed everything else we had, but maybe—maybe I can fix this one thing."

You swallow.

Ellie clenches her fists.

"Please, just—sit with me. Just for a little while."

You hesitate.

Then—with an exhausted sigh—you lower yourself onto the grass.

Ellie follows.

And for the first time in weeks, you lie beside each other.

Silence settles between you.

The sky darkens.

And Ellie watches you instead of the stars.

Watches your face slowly relax, your breathing steady as the familiar comfort of the night settles in.

And for a brief, fleeting moment—it almost feels like before.

Almost.

Then—

"Ellie."

Her breath catches.

You finally turn to her, and for the first time since that night at the Tipsy Bison—you let her see the pain.

"I don’t know how to forgive you."

Ellie’s throat tightens.

"I know."

Your gaze flickers.

And for the first time in weeks—Ellie sees it.

The smallest crack in your armor.

The tiniest sliver of hope.

And she clings to it with everything she has.

THE FINAL STEP

Ellie doesn’t rush it.

She doesn’t push, doesn’t press, doesn’t beg.

She just sits there, watching you, watching the way your fingers twitch in the grass like you want to reach for her but don’t trust yourself to.

It’s the closest she’s been to getting you back.

But she won’t ruin it by expecting too much too soon.

So she just nods, forcing her voice to be steady.

"That’s okay."

You blink.

"I don’t care how long it takes," Ellie murmurs. "You don’t have to forgive me now. Or tomorrow. Or next month. Just—just don’t shut me out completely. Please."

Your eyes drop to the grass.

Ellie waits.

And finally—you give the smallest nod.

It’s barely anything.

But it’s enough.

And Ellie swears to herself right then and there that she will never take another inch of your love for granted again.

LATER THAT NIGHT

Ellie walks you home.

You don’t talk much, but you let her be near you.

And maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but Ellie swears she sees a tiny glimpse of you—the real you—when you glance at her before stepping inside.

She doesn’t sleep that night.

She just sits in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling something she hasn’t felt in weeks.

Hope.

THE NEXT MORNING

Ellie is so fucking close to falling back asleep when—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She frowns.

Grabs her knife from under her pillow and trudges toward the door.

She pulls it open, rubbing her eyes—

And pauses.

Because Bill and Frank are standing on her porch.

Ellie blinks. "Uh—?"

"Jesus Christ, kid," Bill grumbles, shoving past her. "You look like death warmed over."

"Thanks?"

Frank enters next, shooting Ellie an amused smile before glancing around. "This is... cozy."

Ellie just stares. "What the hell are you guys doing here?"

Bill sighs dramatically. "Frank wanted to check on you."

"You wanted to check on her too, don’t act tough," Frank says.

Bill ignores him.

Frank turns back to Ellie, tone softer. "We heard you finally got her to talk to you."

Ellie rubs the back of her neck. "Yeah. Kinda. It’s—" she exhales—"It’s slow."*

Bill snorts. "Well, what the fuck did you expect? A goddamn miracle?"

Ellie glares. "No, I just—" she exhales—"I don’t know. I just hate waiting."*

Frank pats her arm. "Well, too bad. You’re in this for the long haul."

Ellie sighs. "Yeah, I know."

Bill crosses his arms. "You sure? 'Cause if you fuck this up again—"

"I won’t." Ellie’s voice is dead serious. "I swear to god, I won’t."

Bill nods approvingly. "Good."

Frank grins. "So. When are we gonna see our favorite girl?"

Ellie freezes.

Then—before she can even think of an answer—

Bill smirks.

"Oh, I like watching you panic."

Ellie groans.

Frank laughs, nudging her. "Relax. We’ll give her time. But when she’s ready?" He raises an eyebrow. "You better make damn sure we’re invited to the reunion."

Ellie grins despite herself.

Because for the first time in weeks, she actually believes there’s going to be one.

THE FINAL PUSH

Ellie doesn’t want to rush you.

She tells herself to be patient, to wait, to let you come back to her in your own time.

But Bill and Frank are assholes.

Because every time she sees them now, they keep fucking reminding her that they’re waiting for the moment she and you are okay again.

"Any day now, kid," Bill grumbles when she sees him at the greenhouse. "I’m getting old."

"You were always old," Ellie mutters, tossing a crate of tomatoes onto the table.

Frank smirks. "You know, if you’re too scared to take the next step, we can always have Joel do it for you."

Ellie glares.

Joel, who’s been conveniently ignoring this conversation, snorts under his breath.

Ellie hates them all.

Because they know she’s dying to see you—to really see you—to hold you again, to kiss you, to remind you that you are the love of her fucking life.

And they’re right—she’s scared.

Because if she pushes too hard, too fast—what if she loses you all over again?

But Joel of all people—Joel, who has barely spoken about this entire thing—finally gives her the push she needs.

"You got one chance, kid," he says later that night when they’re both sitting on the porch. "One good shot to do this right."

Ellie swallows.

Joel side-eyes her. "So what the hell are you waiting for?"

THE REUNION

Ellie finds you at the stables the next morning.

You’re brushing one of the horses, completely in your own world.

And Ellie has to stop for a second—just to look at you.

Because god, she fucking missed you.

It’s been weeks since she’s seen you up close like this—since she’s seen you without the walls, without the careful distance.

She takes a slow breath and steps forward.

"Hey."

You freeze.

Your hands still against the horse’s mane.

Slowly, you turn to her.

"Hey," you say softly.

And Ellie almost breaks down right there because—fuck, your voice.

She takes another step.

Then another.

You don’t back away.

And that’s when she knows.

Knows that this is it—this is the moment she’s been waiting for.

"Can I—?" She gestures vaguely between you two.

You hesitate.

Then, slowly, you nod.

Ellie doesn’t waste a second.

She steps into your space, gently cupping your face, giving you every possible chance to pull away.

But you don’t.

You just stand there, blinking up at her, so fucking soft and familiar and god, she’s never going to hurt you again.

"I’m so sorry," Ellie whispers. "I love you. I love you so fucking much. And I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you if I have to."

Your breath shudders.

"Ellie..."

"Just—just tell me what you need," she pleads. "Tell me what I can do. Anything, baby. I swear, I'll do anything."

And finally—finally—your eyes soften.

Your shoulders drop.

Your lip wobbles.

And you fall into her arms.

Ellie catches you instantly, holding you, squeezing you, gripping you like she’ll never let go.

Because she won’t.

Never again.

You bury your face in her neck, your breath warm against her skin.

"Don’t be mean to me again," you mumble.

Ellie feels like crying all over again.

"Never," she whispers. "Never again."

And for the first time in weeks, she finally believes it.

EPILOGUE: BILL AND FRANK BEING ASSHOLES, PART 2

Two days later, Ellie and you walk into the Tipsy Bison together.

And the entire town fucking stares.

Then—applause.

Like actual, loud, obnoxious cheering.

Ellie groans, burying her face in your shoulder.

"What the fuck?" she grumbles.

"Told you we were waiting for the reunion," Frank says, grinning from his table.

Bill smirks. "Took you long enough."

Ellie flips them off.

But she’s smiling.

Because you’re here.

And you’re holding her hand.

And she has you back.

THE FINAL HUMILIATION

Ellie tries to act cool about it.

She really does.

But you’re smiling at her.

That soft, warm, real smile that she thought she’d lost forever.

And she can’t help it—she grins like a fucking idiot.

Which is exactly when Jesse whistles and yells across the bar:

"Damn, Ellie, you’re so whipped."

Ellie sees red.

Because fuck Jesse.

And fuck every single person in this goddamn town who’s having the time of their lives watching her fall apart over you.

"You wanna fucking go, Jesse?" she threatens, pulling away from you like she’s actually about to swing.

Jesse laughs his ass off.

Dina is crying from laughter.

Joel just shakes his head like he knew this was coming.

And Bill—Bill fucking smirks.

"Told you," he says to Frank. "She’s hopeless."

Frank sighs, shaking his head in exaggerated disappointment. "Truly pathetic."

Ellie hates them.

But then you giggle.

And fuck.

Ellie melts instantly.

Because that’s the first time you’ve really laughed in weeks.

So she lets it go.

She groans, shaking her head, wrapping an arm around your waist, and pulls you closer like she’ll never let you go again.

"Whatever," she mutters.

And for the first time in forever—everything finally feels right again.

THE WHIPPED REALIZATION

Ellie grumbles for a second. Just for show.

She shakes her head, muttering something about how Jesse is a dead man walking—but then she looks down at you.

At you.

Smiling at her. Loving her.

Forgiving her.

And fuck.

She is whipped.

She’s so fucking whipped that it’s embarrassing.

So she sighs, loudly, and then—she owns it.

"Yeah, okay." She shrugs, tightening her grip around your waist. "I’m fucking whipped. So what?"

Jesse gawks.

Dina chokes on her drink.

Joel rubs a hand down his face like he can’t believe he has to witness this.

Bill groans. “God, kid, have some dignity.”

Frank? Frank is beaming.

"Oh, I love character growth," he says, clapping.

Ellie rolls her eyes—but she’s grinning now.

Because she doesn’t care.

Let them talk. Let them laugh.

She’s got you back in her arms.

And if being completely, utterly, hopelessly whipped is what it takes to keep you there?

She’ll fucking take it.

You tilt your head up at her, smiling softly.

"You are," you tease, voice warm, lighthearted in a way Ellie thought she’d never hear again. "Like… really, really whipped."

Ellie groans, dramatically burying her face in your shoulder.

"Jesus Christ, babe, don’t make it worse."

You laugh—really laugh—giggling as you thread your fingers through her hair.

"Oh, no, I think it’s adorable," you hum, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "My big, scary, grumpy girlfriend—wrapped around my little finger."

The bar erupts in laughter.

Jesse nearly falls off his chair.

Dina is wiping away tears.

Joel? Joel just sighs.

"This is painful to watch," he mutters.

Bill grimaces. "Agreed. Disgusting."

Frank, however, grins proudly.

"No, no, this is beautiful," he says, patting Ellie’s back. "She’s finally embraced the truth."

Ellie groans again.

But she’s smiling.

Because you’re smiling.

And if everyone in this town wants to make fun of her for it?

She doesn’t give a shit.

You’re hers. That’s all that matters.

Ellie huffs dramatically, pulling you even closer like she’s shielding you from all the teasing.

"Alright, alright, laugh it up, assholes," she grumbles, glaring at Jesse, Dina, Bill, and Frank. "Glad my suffering is so entertaining for you."

Jesse wipes a fake tear. "It really is, man. Like, deeply entertaining."

Dina nods, still cackling. "This might be the best night of my life."

Joel just shakes his head.

"You brought this on yourself, kid," he mutters, taking a sip of his drink.

Bill looks at Frank. "You think we should get the shotgun and put her out of her misery?"

Frank gasps, clutching his chest. "Bill! What kind of love story would that be?"

"A merciful one," Bill deadpans.

Ellie groans.

You, meanwhile, are laughing so hard you can barely breathe.

And that sound?

That sound makes every second of public humiliation completely fucking worth it.

Ellie sighs, finally giving in.

"Fine," she mutters, looking down at you with so much love in her eyes that it’s almost embarrassing. "I’m the most whipped person in Jackson."

You grin.

"In Wyoming, probably," you add.

Ellie snorts.

"In the entire fucking world," Jesse corrects.

And at that, Ellie just shakes her head, smiling like an idiot, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Whatever," she murmurs. "As long as I’m yours, I don’t care."

And for the first time in weeks—everything feels perfect again.

n the first place.

Ellie’s throat tightens. She blinks fast, willing herself not to get emotional in front of everyone.

"Yeah," she breathes, voice quieter now, meant only for you.

She leans in, nudging her nose against yours, pressing the softest kiss to your lips.

"Yours."

And for the first time in forever—she actually believes she deserves to be.

The moment is so sweet that even Bill and Frank have mercy.

"Alright, alright," Bill mutters, waving a hand. "Show’s over. Let’s get back to drinking before I throw up."

Joel sighs. "Finally."

Jesse smirks, nudging Dina. "Bet you ten bucks Ellie starts crying in the next five minutes."

Dina grins. "Oh, you’re on."

Ellie flips them off without even looking.

Because fuck them.

Right now?

She has everything she needs.

Ellie barely hears anything after that.

The bar is still loud as hell—Jesse and Dina are still laughing, Bill is still muttering something sarcastic to Frank, and Joel is still watching her like he’s mentally filing this whole night away to tease her later.

But Ellie?

Ellie can only focus on you.

The way your arms stay wrapped around her, secure and warm. The way your eyes shine, even in the dim light of the Tipsy Bison. The way you just said okay—like this is real, like this is good again, like she can breathe again.

Ellie cups your face, tilting her forehead against yours.

"You really back?" she whispers.

And you—because you are the single most agonizingly wonderful person she’s ever met—just grin.

"Guess you’ll have to wait and see," you tease.

Ellie groans dramatically, letting her head fall onto your shoulder. "You’re literally evil."

"Yeah, but I’m your evil."

Ellie pulls back just enough to look at you, and she swears she almost fucking cries because—

Yeah.

You’re hers.

And she’s never letting this fall apart again.

"Alright, alright," Frank sighs, clapping his hands together like he’s the host of a reality show. "Romance quota for the night has been exceeded. I need another drink."

"You always need another drink," Bill grumbles.

"And yet, you love me anyway," Frank says smugly, pressing a dramatic kiss to Bill’s cheek.

Bill just grumbles something under his breath, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

Ellie huffs, still holding onto you like it’s instinct.

Joel chuckles. "You sure you ain’t too old to be actin’ like a lovesick puppy?"

Ellie glares. "You sure you ain’t too old to be gettin’ in my business?"

Joel just shakes his head. "Not when it’s this funny."

Dina snickers. "Ellie, be honest. How bad was it?"

Ellie squints. "How bad was what?"

"Sleeping alone."

The entire table bursts into laughter.

Ellie?

Ellie just groans and buries her face in your neck.

You smile into her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"It’s okay, babe," you whisper, "You suffered enough."

Ellie lifts her head just enough to look at you.

"Yeah?"

You grin.

"Yeah. I think I’m done punishing you."

Ellie exhales, pulling you in tighter.

"Thank fuck."

Please note that reblog, comments, follows and likes are very much appreciated!

#ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #ellie williams angst #ellie williams series #tlou fanfiction #fem!reader #ellie x sunshine #ellie x sunshine!reader

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earthlybeam · 5 months ago

Note

Good morning, evening or night depending on your time zone, if you don't mind me asking, could you please do the secret crush thing with Glorfindel? Thank you <3

When you ask it was 3am in the morning �� but no worries it’s morning now and all done for you enjoy sweetie ✨🫶❤️‍🔥

how would the elves react to this?

↓

Glorfindel version below. (You and glorfindel well secret have a crush but either of you acted till now.)

☀️𝓖𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓵

𖤓 The great hall buzzed with life, its warmth pushing back the bite of the winter air outside. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows that danced on the stone walls, while laughter and conversation swirled around the room. It was an evening of merriment, with food and drink aplenty, and yet Glorfindel found himself adrift in a quiet corner of the hall, lost in thoughts he could no longer ignore. He stood near you, his attention divided—part of him was listening to your endless stream of words, but the other part was trapped in a fog of indecision, tangled in thoughts of you. You spoke animatedly, as always, your voice bubbling with excitement as you recounted a new tale from the court. Your laughter was like music, the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke, and the playful gestures you made with your hands… it all served to deepen his longing, a longing that had been growing quietly in the background for some time. But no matter how much he tried to focus on your words, Glorfindel couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, tracing the outline of your lips, imagining the warmth of your touch. And then, his gaze drifted upwards, drawn to the mistletoe hanging innocently above the two of you. It had been there for what felt like ages, but now it felt almost like an unspoken challenge, an invitation. His eyes lingered on it, the weight of its symbolism heavy in the air. Beneath it, a thousand thoughts raced through his mind. Should he kiss you now? Would it be too forward? Was it the right moment? His heart thudded heavily in his chest as he fought the urge to act, to let the moment unfold the way it was meant to.

𖤓 You, on the other hand, remained blissfully unaware of the shift in his attention. Your words tumbled out, your voice rising and falling in its usual animated rhythm, but Glorfindel wasn’t really hearing it anymore. The sound of your voice, the way your lips curved when you smiled, everything about you drew him in more, even as his thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. His focus, sharp as it usually was, had become clouded, the mistletoe hanging like an insistent weight in the background of his mind. He shifted closer without realizing it, his body gravitating toward yours as his thoughts ran in circles. He wanted so badly to focus on you, to hear the rest of your story, but your words became background noise as his body began to respond in a way he couldn’t control. His heart raced as he thought of touching you, kissing you. He could already feel the heat building in his chest, the pull between you both undeniable.

𖤓 “Should I… kiss you now?” The thought flared in his mind again, and though he tried to shake it off, it stuck, circling around like a fly buzzing just out of reach. He glanced at the mistletoe once more, his hand twitching involuntarily at his side as he desperately tried to maintain some semblance of composure. But you kept talking. And talking. And talking. Your voice was like a river rushing downstream, too fast for him to keep up, but every word you spoke only made the tension between you more unbearable.His mind barely registered what you were saying anymore. His thoughts were consumed by the question of when and how to make his move. Should he wait for you to notice the mistletoe? Was that too obvious? Should he lean in, or take your hand, or…? Every thought was interrupted by the restless thumping of his heart.

𖤓 The gap between you had all but disappeared as he inched closer, trying to focus on something—anything—besides the overwhelming desire to kiss you. His fingers twitched again, but you didn’t seem to notice the subtle shift. Your hands were moving, your eyes alight with excitement, and yet, Glorfindel felt like he was on the edge of some great precipice. What if this was his only chance? What if he waited too long and lost the moment forever? With a deep, almost desperate breath, Glorfindel moved again. Closer, a little closer. Your words were nothing but a faint hum in the background as his resolve began to crack. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, the space between you shrinking until it was no longer bearable.

𖤓 And then, without another moment of hesitation, Glorfindel reached for your hand, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. The contact was soft, almost delicate, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through him, a rush of warmth that spread through his entire being. His pulse quickened, his chest tightening, as if the simple touch had ignited something deep within him. The world around him seemed to blur, as though the distance between you had collapsed, leaving nothing but the undeniable presence of you standing before him. You, completely unaware, continued to speak, caught up in the excitement of your own words, your animated voice filling the air. The softness of your expression, the spark in your eyes, made it even harder for Glorfindel to focus. His fingers still hovered near yours, a whisper of contact, and every part of him screamed to close the distance, to feel more of you, but he held himself back, watching you intently, the moment slipping away from him, slipping away from both of you. His breath caught in his throat. It felt as if time itself had slowed, each second stretching into infinity as his thoughts swirled with uncertainty, desire, and the overwhelming need to act. The room felt far away, like an echo of life happening in the background, while all that mattered in that moment was you-your words, your presence, the way your lips moved as you spoke.

𖤓 Glorfindel's chest tightened, his heart racing as he realized he could wait no longer. He could feel the warmth of the fire behind him, but it was nothing compared to the heat building between you two. His resolve finally broke, and in that instant, he stepped closer to you. He didn't think. He didn't pause. Without a single word, he moved in, his lips finding yours in a swift, almost desperate kiss. At first, it was tentative, his mouth brushing against yours with a softness that betrayed the urgency simmering beneath it. His lips lingered, feeling the gentleness of your skin, and he closed his eyes to savor the moment—the warmth, the softness, the sweet sensation of your breath mingling with his. It was a tentative question, a question he had wanted to ask for far too long. But as the kiss deepened, the hesitation faded. His hand, which had been resting at his side, moved with intention, cupping your cheek in a tender, possessive gesture, as though to hold you in place, as though he needed to remind himself that this moment was real. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw softly, reassuring himself that this wasn't some wild, fleeting fantasy, but a reality he had longed for. The heat from the kiss spread through him like wildfire, rushing through his veins until every inch of his body was alive with the feeling of you.

𖤓 For a moment, he felt lost, consumed by the taste of you, the sensation of your lips against his, the pulse of your body beneath his touch. The world around him faded completely, the music, the voices, the laughter, all of it drowned out by the rhythm of your breathing, the gentle press of your lips against his, the quiet urgency that danced between you. You didn't pull away. The kiss, which had begun as a tentative exploration, grew deeper, more sure, as you leaned into it, your lips parting just slightly. His heart surged , a flood of emotion he hadn't been able to fully understand until now, but in this moment, with you, it all made sense. You were here. You were with him. The kiss lingered, an eternity captured in a single breath. It was soft, tender, but also filled with the yearning that had quietly built between you over time. Glorfindel could feel the pulse of his heart in his chest, the way his breath began to falter, the way the world seemed to stop around him as everything focused on this singular, perfect moment.

𖤓 Finally, he pulled back, though it took every ounce of willpower to do so. His lips lingered near yours for just a second longer, a soft breath shared between you, before he slowly pulled away, his eyes still closed as if afraid to open them and face reality. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and he could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He had kissed you, and yet it felt like it was only the beginning. A soft, incredulous laugh escaped his lips. "I've been wanting to do that for a while," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though he wasn't sure you would hear him. It was the truth, the quiet confession he had never dared to speak aloud, but here, in this moment, it was the only thing he could say. His hand remained close to your face, his fingers still lightly brushing your skin as if he were afraid to let go. The warmth of your touch was still fresh on his lips, and the taste of you lingered in his senses. The world, still spinning around him, had never felt more still.

𖤓 “Wait…” you murmured, a soft laugh escaping your lips, your voice rich with a mixture of surprise and delight. The question hung in the air, and Glorfindel could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, his heart still pounding from the kiss that had taken him completely by surprise. His eyes darted to the floor for a moment, embarrassed but too captivated by you to look away for long. His lips curled into a sheepish grin, the barest hint of a flush coloring his normally composed features. “Not… entirely,” he admitted, his voice quiet, almost apologetic, as if he had just been caught in a small, but undeniable misstep. The truth was, he hadn’t been listening—he had been too consumed by the way you spoke, the way your presence filled the space between you two, and the overpowering urge to act on the emotions he’d been battling for far too long.

𖤓 Your eyes narrowed, a glint of playful suspicion flickering in them. You tilted your head, studying him with a teasing smile that made his heart skip a beat. “So, you were ignoring me, waiting for a good moment to kiss me?” Glorfindel’s smile softened in response, a touch of vulnerability slipping into his gaze, but it didn’t dim the warmth in his expression. The spark in his eyes deepened, a soft intensity behind his gaze as he nodded slowly. His voice was low, but this time, it was filled with an earnestness that made every word feel even more significant. “Yes,” he said, his words careful but laden with emotion. “But only because I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

𖤓 For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still between you both. The air, thick with the weight of your words, carried the unspoken truth of the moment. All the tension, all the unacknowledged longing and uncertainty that had been building between you two, seemed to come crashing together in the shared silence. Everything that had been said, everything that had been felt, led to this point. And yet, as the seconds stretched, there was a sense of something more—something undeniable, something deep that both of you had been skirting around, waiting for the right moment to fully confront. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you leaned in, just enough to brush your lips against his cheek. The soft, teasing touch sent a shiver through Glorfindel, but the lightheartedness in the gesture only deepened the warmth of the moment. You pulled back slightly, your breath still warm against his skin, and your voice, now playful but with a hint of insistent desire, echoed in his ear. “Well,” you whispered, your tone both light and daring, “if you’re going to ignore me, I think you owe me another one.”

𖤓 A shocked laugh escaped Glorfindel’s lips at the audacity of your challenge, and his heart soared at the sight of that teasing, daring smile on your lips. He could feel the pulse of joy and excitement rising in him, and it was as though everything around him melted away. The weight of his earlier hesitation lifted entirely. Without a second thought, driven by the same surge of need and longing that had built up within him, Glorfindel reached for you again. He pulled you closer, his hands gentle but firm, and before you could even fully process what was happening, his lips were on yours once more. This time, there was no hesitation. No uncertainty. The kiss was different—deeper, more assured. The urgency of the moment surged between you both, an undeniable force that drowned out everything else. His hands, having found their way to your waist, pulled you in closer, your bodies pressing together in the soft warmth of the firelight, the world outside forgotten. There was nothing but the heat of your kiss, the taste of your lips, and the flood of emotion that overwhelmed him with each passing second.

𖤓 The kiss deepened with an intensity that took Glorfindel’s breath away, as though he was finally giving himself permission to be completely present, to stop fighting the pull he’d felt for so long. He could feel the pulse of your heartbeat against his chest, your breath mingling with his in a rhythm that was both familiar and new, as if every part of him had been waiting for this, for you. Every touch, every brush of skin against skin, felt like a revelation. There was an urgency now, a quiet sense of need, and yet it was tender—each moment wrapped in a softness that spoke volumes without words. Finally, when the kiss broke, both of you were left breathless, your lips still tingling from the contact, the air heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. Glorfindel’s chest heaved as he looked at you, his eyes wide with wonder, his lips still curled into a grin, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just transpired. “I think I could get used to this,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, the wonder and joy clear in his words. His heart was racing, but there was a quiet satisfaction in the way his eyes never left yours, a soft certainty settling within him.

𖤓 You laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears, and despite the fluttering in your chest, there was a sense of contentment that filled the space between you both. You could feel the rush of emotions, the connection that had grown between you, and it made your heart race, too. You met his gaze, your voice quiet but filled with the same spark of warmth that he had shown you. “I think I could, too,” you replied, your lips curving into a smile, the words both a promise and a recognition of everything that had just shifted. And in that moment, as time seemed to slow, the world outside the two of you faded away. The firelight flickered softly, casting shadows along the stone walls, and the mistletoe above seemed to glow brighter as if marking the significance of what had just occurred. It was as though nothing else mattered—nothing except the undeniable connection between you, the spark that had ignited with that kiss, the tenderness that had blossomed in the quiet space between words. It felt like a beginning, like the start of something more, something lasting, something meant to be.

#glorfindel #glorfindel x reader #glorfindel headcanons #glorfindel simps #glorfindel of golden flower #glorfindel supremacy #glorfindel x you #glorfindel of rivendell #lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr elves

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mindhealing · 9 days ago

Text

Life Is A Circus!

Life is a fleeting journey of all odds, from one of happiness and joy in one moment, to anguish and misery in the next moment. From success and great achievement, to failure and bankruptcy. It is a cycle of gaining and losing, holding on tightly and eventually letting go of that which you have held onto so tightly whether you like it or not, yet when you resist and try to cling to it longer than necessary, you realize that it was a mirage and was never yours in the first place. You are born into this world and come with nothing, save the body and mind that you need and is absolutely necessary to live in and navigate this world, and a set of skills and talents hidden within you that you must discover and use in your sojourn in this world. Yet most people spend their days chasing and running after wealth and fortune, building empires and kingdoms, and holding onto them tightly out of fear, lest they lose them or they will be taken away, lost or stolen. Their mindset is one where they think, assume and believe that they can outrun time, and can dictate their entire life and life experiences, without recourse to the power that created, maintain and keeps sustaining their existence and reality and the fact that there is a divine will, process and timing for them, same as it is for everyone and all of life and creation.

You grasp at love seeking to selfishly keep it to yourself, you desire success at the cost of your health and wellbeing, and even more so when it affects and endangers the life and safety of other people. You are happy and contented, joyful and blissful like a child on the merry-go-round, who is delighted that the world is spinning as they want and that everything is wonderful. They are lost in the depth of the narratives, stories and drama that their mind has created, and is spinning and looping creating that trajectory as their life and life experiences. You are so focused on finding meaning to life and existence itself, and willing to interfere in the divine process and timing of your life and life experiences, trying to manipulate and control the outcome of all circumstances, events, conditions and situations of your life, forgetting that life itself is a circus and that everything is set to run and operate according to law and order, and not according to your whims and desires. Life as a school and also a circus plays out according to your prevailing consciousness and state of mind, whether you are on the positive spectrum or the negative spectrum and then life unfolds for you accordingly.

When you become so desperate to make something of the brief moments you are given or have been given, you can interfere with the normal sequence of life and events. When you learn to see, know and understand that life is a jolly fun ride with everything in between, and when you move with the ride neither trying to control, dictate events, conditions and circumstances, nor trying to rush or hurry things up, then life is allowed to become what it is and what it must become, that is when you will enjoy the ride. When you are lost in the abysmal depth of your mind, you only wish and want things to go your way whether it's a part of the divine plan, process and timing or not and whether it's in your best interest or not, but you need to understand that life doesn't work that way. You end up with negativity, negative mindset, thoughts and emotions that create anxiety, agitation and stress, and your life and life experiences become a furnace of fire as you become disturbed. But when you finally surrender to life and allow life to be, you disconnect from the mind and it's attendant narratives, stories and drama that has created the conditions and situations, that you have been in. Now you reconnect with the divinity within you, your Higher Self which is your authentic self, waiting to connect with you and show you the truth about yourself. It will help you see, know and understand the path of life you are on, and how best to achieve all of your life goals and objectives, ambitions and destiny.

So life can truly become the circus of your existence and reality, and like a child who sees life as a delight, trusting in life to be taken care of, you get to live and enjoy a fun filled life of happiness and joy, wonder and excitement. You move with the ebb and flow of life and let life dazzle you with it's beauty and splendor, blessings and abundance. No matter how much you achieve and accumulate over the years, there comes a day when you will have to relinquish control and release it all, but at least you would have had a merry-go-round experience of a lifetime. The true beauty of life is not in what you acquire, accumulate and keep, but in all that you give and share with others who don't have or have barely enough, it is in the love and affection you share with others, in the care and attention you give other people who desperately need it, like a smile or a shoulder to cry or lean upon, the kindness and compassion you leave behind after an amazing life, so that you can be remembered and cherished, and your legacy can live on through the lives of all those you have touched in the sojourn of your life. Although you depart this world at the end of your life with nothing as you have come, you are actually departing with all the lessons acquired and a higher state of consciousness that you have gained in this life, which is the mark of a life well-lived, and which is not measured by what you hold unto but by what you leave in the hearts of others.

More to come.

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azrielgreen · 6 months ago

Note

Dear Az,

I wanted to take a moment to express my thoughts about Prism. First of all, thank you for continuing this incredible story. Your writing has always been captivating, and the world you’ve created means so much to so many of us.

That said, I hope you won’t mind me sharing some feelings as a reader who deeply loves Prism. I’ve noticed the pace of the story has recently sped up, and it feels like some of the plot’s richness is being lost in the process. Themes like Dissociative Identity Disorder/Age Regression, the rebuilding of the house, the wedding, Billy’s life in prison, and Steve’s past with Tommy—all of these are such intricate, layered elements. They deserve time to breathe and unfold, the way you and Brook masterfully handled the earlier parts of the story.

Another thing I’ve come to realize is how much the waiting between chapters contributed to Prism’s atmosphere. It allowed the tension to linger, making the story feel more intimate and immersive, which is so essential for a horror narrative. The suspense of waiting was part of the magic — it gave us time to sit with the fear and let it grow. Rushing the story risks losing that core essence.

Please don’t feel pressured to finish this story quickly. I know many readers, myself included, would wait as long as it takes to see the story develop at its own natural rhythm. I promise. I’m begging. The beauty of Prism lies in its depth and the careful build-up of tension, fear, and emotion. I know you’re capable of continuing that magic, and I truly believe in your vision.

Thank you for all the love and effort you’ve poured into this work. Your talent is undeniable, and I hope this note feels more like encouragement than criticism. I can’t wait to see what’s next for Prism.

Warmly,

One of Jack knives.

Hi, thank you for your insight and sharing thoughts. The last two chapters should really have been one massive chapter that I split for time reasons, hence the fast posting and i did intentionally write them to have this whirlwind "removed from reality" feeling where all else seems to fade. I would never ever rush Prism, and I'm writing as both Brooke and I intended, i.e., following the outline we devised together. It's also really hard to write this story without her for so many reasons, and though I'm doing everything i can, I know I should work harder to keep it at the level it was before. It's a huge adjustment for me, and believe it or not, I am trying my best, but i can always try harder and level up, so I'll work towards that during future chapters. I did really just want to do something nice by posting before the 24th and try to fully immerse myself in the story again. Writing it solo is really hard. I'll try harder going forward.

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mendeshoney · 2 years ago

Note

hiiii i just want to say thank you for giving us all these stories, like it really makes my day seeing it on my feed. can you please write something about barzy being the readers boyfriend but also bsf so he gets all the tea every time lol

"You are never going to believe what I just found out."

The door closes and locks behind you at the same time that Mat's head whips around, his wireless headset falling from the force of the turn, and his character dies on the screen.

Faintly, you can hear the protests of his teammates through his headphones, and Mat's immediately scrambling, pulling the headset on and rushing out a quick goodbye. He turns off the game and tosses his headset onto the couch beside him, his whole body turning toward you.

"At 'The Debrief?'" Mat asks. If he were a dog, you would swear his ears would be perked all the way up and his tail would be wagging.

You nod, an excited smile on your face as you head to the fridge and grab the already open bottle of champagne, and when Mat sees it, he flies over the back of the couch and scrambles to grab the glasses from the cabinet.

"No fucking way," he says as he moves, just as excited, placing the glasses down on the kitchen counter in front of you.

"Do you want to guess who it involves? Or should I just tell you?" You ask, pouring the champagne in the glass first, and Mat tops it off with the orange juice he grabbed from the fridge.

"Just tell me," Mat insists. "I've been waiting for this since you left."

This had become a tradition between the two of you over the last six months.

Every two weeks, on a Sunday, you and your best friends gather at a bistro or café and catch up on everything going on in the others lives. You'd been friends with them since you were kids, lasting throughout high school and college combined, and now that you're all adults with your own lives, it's the main way to ensure you keep in touch.

Mat had gone to one of them when you first started dating. You forgot that you'd made plans with him on the same Sunday as what you and your friends liked to call "The Debrief," and your friends had been so excited to meet him that they encouraged you to bring him along.

Needless to say, Mat had never had so much fun being involved in gossip in his life.

"You hear things being on the team," he had told you after you'd left that day. "But none of them are that exciting. It's like watching a reality show unfold in real life."

Since then, he'd begged to go with you each time, but you always had to let him down to remind him that "The Debrief" is a closed event, and that he can't always tag along just because. But he'd been so sad about being told he couldn't be involved, you came up with this compromise.

After every day you went to "The Debrief," you'd come home to him and start what he dubbed as "The Mimosa Memo," where you'd summarize what you learned that morning and Mat could still feel like he was involved.

You take a swig of the mimosa, then lean your elbows on the counter and blurt out "Drea's older sister is pregnant."

Mat's mouth drops open, genuine disbelief on his face. "No! Alyssa? Is the dad the married fin tech dude?"

"Yep," you confirm, and Mat groans out loud.

"She's keeping the baby?!" He exclaims, and when you nod, he takes a swig of his own mimosa, shaking his head. "Andrea needs to talk some sense into her."

"Oh, she tried," you admit, recounting your friend's frustrated face. "I don't think I've ever seen Drea so mad before. Lyss even told Drea she was convinced that this would mean he would leave his wife for good."

Mat scoffs. "Yeah, alright."

"That's not even the best part," you insist after taking another sip.

You laugh as Mat's eyeballs bug out again, and he makes a 'hurry up' gesture with his hands. "Spit it out, I'm dying over here!"

"Fin tech bro?" You begin dramatically, feeling excitement when the anticipation is all over Mat's face. "His wife just found out she's pregnant too."

The gasp that leaves Mat's mouth is both vindicating and hilarious, and you can't help but laugh at his reaction. "Does Alyssa know?"

You shake your head. "We just found out at brunch. We Instagram stalked him, found his wife's account, and she posted a picture celebrating the end of her first trimester literally two days after Lyss found out she was pregnant."

Mat shakes his head, completely flabbergasted. He takes another large swig of his mimosa, and sighs, like he's exhausted by the drama that isn't even his. "What did Lyss say when Drea told her?"

You shrug, and Mat stares at you. "Drea said she was going to tell her when she got home."

"Are you kidding me?!" He pouts. "You're telling me I have to wait another two weeks to find out?"

You smirk, hiding behind the rim of your glass. "Guess so."

His nostrils flare, and his shoulders sag. "If Drea texts you before then you have to tell me about it."

You raise a brow at him. Usually he's eager, but not this eager. "Why?"

A slight flush creeps up his cheeks. "No reason."

"Mathew." You deadpan. "What did you do?"

He stares at his glass like it's the most interesting thing the entire world. "I.....may or may not have told a few people a couple of things I learned from 'The Debrief' and 'The Mimosa Memo' and they may or may not also want updates."

You stare at him blankly. "So you told Tito, Tyson, and Ethan."

"And Lianna," he clarifies. "But that's it."

A groan leaves your lips, and you tip back the rest of your mimosa. "See, this is why you're not allowed at 'The Debrief,' you've got loose lips."

"You're the one telling me stuff!"

"I'm allowed to! The rules extend to significant others, but not beyond that!"

Mat frowns. "So if I can't tell the guys about Drea's sister?"

You roll your eyes, pouring more champagne and head straight to your bathroom to run a bubble bath, ignoring Mat's cries of protests as you retreat.

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mathew barzal x reader #mat barzal x reader #writing challenge #requests

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beauiestars · 5 months ago

Text

OBI-WAN KENOBI - Scars of Age

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Fem!Reader {PART THREE}

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: Slow burn, pining, source material inaccuracies, medical inaccuracies, semi-graphic violence, minor character death, semi-graphic blood/injury, vomiting (not explicit or recurring), moral dilemmas, betrayal…

Beau's Note: I have the first 14 chapters of this story pre-written so prepare for some cheeky updates. Sorry for any feelings hurt in this part!

Summary: They say time heals all wounds. But with the forces of the universe tearing them apart, can two childhood best friends rediscover their connection and find solace in each other once more?

"Master Qui-Gon, we still haven't heard from Y/n, and I fear they're running out of time," Obi-Wan said nervously. The crew onboard watched the enemy ship warily, tension hanging in the air. The cockpit felt heavy with apprehension, everyone aware that you and a few others were somewhere on that ship.

The task required utmost stealth, and although it was discussed beforehand that maybe you weren't the best fit for such a delicate mission, Master Yoda insisted that you would be put to the test. His decision was final, and there was little room for debate. "Is anyone surprised?" Another padawan, clearly disgruntled that they hadn't been selected, huffed, crossing their arms tightly across their chest. The bitterness in their eyes was unmistakable.

If Obi-Wan wasn't so wracked with nerves, he would've fought the implication that you had somehow gone and botched the task. However, the mere thought of it twisted his gut, and the anxiety gnawing at him only made it worse. He clenched his fists, trying to push the worries away.

Qui-Gon, sensing the tension, took the opportunity to speak up, his calm voice cutting through the uncertainty. "Come now, let's not assume something has gone wrong just because—" He paused, his gaze steady as it swept over the others, who were all anxiously waiting for news. "—because things are taking longer than expected. Patience is key."

Master Qui-Gon was cut off sharply by the deafening roar of an explosion ripping through the surrounding area. The shockwave rattled the ship's frame, and the backend of the enemy vessel erupted into flames, sending debris scattering through the air. The shrill blare of onboard sirens echoed in the distance, an ominous warning of chaos unfolding.

Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat as he watched in silent horror, his heart sinking. Qui-Gon stood frozen for a moment before running his hands down his face with an audible groan of frustration. The reality of the situation was suddenly all too clear—something had gone horribly wrong. "We need to move," Qui-Gon muttered, his voice tense, masking the frustration that simmered beneath the surface.

Rapidly, the reserve masters and padawans rushed to aid the situation, but Obi-Wan and his master remained on the ship. The tension in the air was palpable, a thick silence that seemed to stretch on forever, before Master Qui-Gon finally broke it with a quiet, knowing voice. "I assume you know exactly what I am thinking, don't you, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied solemnly, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't want to admit it, but the entire Jedi Order, including himself, knew of your reputation. The reputation you had earned through your rash decisions and impulsive actions was undeniable. It wasn't just that you were reckless—it was that your tendency to act without thinking had led to countless close calls, most of which could have been avoided.

The unspoken consensus was clear: your disregard for strategy and caution had set the stage for disaster. They didn't need any more information to know that this blunder, this catastrophe, had your name written all over it.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, pushing down the pang of guilt in his chest. There was a part of him that couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility.

"What's going to happen to her, Master?" The words escaped Obi-Wan before he could stop them, the weight of his concern pressing through his usual composure. His typically calm and collected demeanour faltered for just a moment. It wasn't just the mission; it was the worry for his best friend, someone he knew all too well, whose recklessness had led them to this dangerous precipice.

Master Qui-Gon sighed, a rare moment of weariness flickering across his features. The reality of the situation seemed to settle in the deep lines of his face, but the softening of his expression that followed eased some of the anxiety that had been tightening around Obi-Wan's chest. "I'm not certain," Qui-Gon said, his voice steady but carrying an undeniable hint of regret. "But I believe she deserves to be forgiven. However," he added, his tone turning more contemplative, "I cannot guarantee that others will share this opinion, my padawan."

Obi-Wan nodded, though the motion was slow, as if his mind was still struggling to keep up. His gaze drifted back toward the flaming wreckage of the ship, the inferno casting a sickly glow against the darkening sky. The crackling flames sounded distant, but the sight of smoke swirling into the night air deepened his unease. His heart tightened as he thought of you. He had no doubt Qui-Gon was right, but it was hard to silence the doubts that rattled him.

Several tense minutes passed in heavy silence before all of the Jedi Masters and their padawans returned to the ship. Between them, they held two unconscious forms—one of them unmistakably yours—and Obi-Wan's heart sank into his stomach, a cold knot forming in his chest. His feet moved before his mind could fully catch up, and he rushed toward them, but the sight of you being hurried deeper into the ship for medical attention stopped him in his tracks.

As they passed, he caught a fleeting glimpse of your face, pale and still, almost unrecognisable in the dim light. You looked lifeless, your features drawn in a way that chilled him to the core. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch as he stood frozen, watching the medics work around you. His stomach churned, his thoughts racing, but he couldn't make himself move.

You were gone in an instant, disappearing behind the double doors, and all Obi-Wan could do was stand there. The sound of the doors closing echoed through the ship, each step taken further from him amplifying the dread that overwhelmed him. His body felt heavy. He had never felt so utterly powerless.

He hated every second of it. The minutes dragged into hours, each one more agonising than the last as you remained behind those doors, and there was nothing Obi-Wan could do. The helplessness taunted him, a constant, insidious presence in his chest. He refused to speak to anyone, unable to muster the words, the fear in his chest too consuming to share. Eventually, his silence became suffocating, and the others stopped trying to reach him.

He paced back and forth in the small, dimly lit room, the movement a desperate attempt to burn off some anxiety. His mind kept drifting to you—the sight of your unconscious form, pale and lifeless, kept replaying over and over like an endless loop. The look of horror on his face never left, his features frozen in a state of disbelief and fear, his eyes haunted by the image of what might be happening behind those closed doors.

No one had ever seen him like this—not even Qui-Gon, his steady mentor, who had always been his anchor. Obi-Wan's usually calm, composed countenance was shattered, replaced by an intensity that bordered on frantic. His hands trembled slightly, his jaw clenched so tight that it ached. He was lost in his thoughts, caught in a storm of self-doubt, wondering if he could have done more, if there had been something—anything—he could have done to prevent this. The bitter sting of guilt mixed with the sharp edge of fear, and for the first time, Obi-Wan felt like a failure.

He overheard the hushed conversations of those who had been on the ship with you, their voices low but filled with frustration and disappointment. They spoke in tones that were meant to be private, but the words still cut through the air. Apparently, you had immediately disobeyed direct orders, slipping away from your team without so much as a word, vanishing into the back of the ship. When you finally returned, it was in the aftermath of an explosion, one that had left the control room in ruins. It was clear from the way they spoke that your impulsive actions had not only jeopardised the mission but had also made the situation far worse.

The murmurs of "irresponsible," "reckless," and "unfit" were tossed around like blaster fire. It wasn't hard to piece together what they were implying, even if they didn't say it outright: they all knew who was to blame.

Obi-Wan stood just out of earshot, tension mounting in his chest as the words sank in. Every one of them felt like a weight pressing down on him. They were right—this was your fault. But the worst part was the sinking feeling in his gut, because despite what had happened, despite your recklessness, he still felt that instinctive need to protect you.

Obi-Wan paled at the thought of the repercussions this would have for you. The others on the ship were quick to label you as a reckless wildcard, unfit for responsibility, but Obi-Wan knew better. He knew your heart, your intentions, and the burden you carried. Still, the weight of their judgment hung heavy in the air. He was determined to hear your side of the story, to make sure you weren't judged unfairly—but he had no idea how long it would take before that moment came.

***

It wasn't until you arrived on Coruscant and were brought into the Jedi Temple that Obi-Wan was able to see you. He had feared the worst, but as he stepped into the sterile, quiet med bay, he saw that you were still unconscious, yet much improved. The sight of your seemingly lifeless body, burned and broken, flashed in his mind once more, and he shivered involuntarily. The overwhelming regret of not being able to protect you when it mattered most was haunting him.

He made a silent vow to never let this happen again, no matter the cost.

Your body was swathed in bandages, and the medics had told him you had been on fire. The thought made his stomach churn—if you hadn't regained consciousness when you did, the flames would have consumed you entirely. He couldn't stop himself from watching you, every movement you made, every slight rise and fall of your chest, every twitch in your hands—hands that never seemed to be still, even when you were on the brink of death.

The medics had carefully removed the soot and ash from your face, revealing the pale, almost childlike skin beneath. You looked impossibly young lying there, fragile in a way Obi-Wan hadn't fully understood until now. For a brief, painful moment, he was struck by how little you had changed since you were children—he was sixteen and you were seventeen, both of you were only just beginning to come into your own. But you had changed. And though you were still just a teenager, your reckless actions had earned you a jury, one that would judge you harshly for your decisions.

Obi-Wan knew it wasn't fair—he knew the weight of the Council's expectations, the impossible standards placed upon every Jedi—but still, the bitterness simmered beneath the surface. He swallowed it down, because his loyalty to the Jedi Order was absolute, and if that meant accepting the judgments of those in charge, so be it.

Another hour passed as Obi-Wan waited by your bedside. He had a lot of time to think—too much, he decided upon reflection—and decided to take matters into his own hands. He gently stroked the top of your head. Despite the near-death experience and intense medical attention, your hair was soft to the touch.

He slipped quietly out of the room, his mind still heavy with thoughts of you. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the empty hallways. He sought out Master Yoda, determined to voice the concerns that had been eating away at him for hours.

It wasn't long before he found Yoda, seated with the other Jedi Masters. As Obi-Wan entered, the conversations abruptly ceased, and all eyes turned toward him. Their gaze was laden with unspoken judgment and curiosity, and Obi-Wan knew instantly that you were the subject of their discussion. The air itself was charged with expectation.

"Troubling you, what is, young Kenobi?" Master Yoda's voice cut through the silence, gentle but probing. Obi-Wan was well aware that Yoda knew exactly what was on his mind; the wise Master always did, often before anyone had even spoken. But Obi-Wan, for once, wasn't an open book. He had fought with himself for so long, struggling with what to say, but now the words were spilling out before he could stop them.

"She should not be allowed to go on these missions, Master," Obi-Wan began, his voice laced with a deep frustration that had been building ever since the explosion. "She's too reckless, and she's going to get herself, or someone else, killed. I know her better than anyone, and the truth is, she's already halfway there."

The room seemed to sag under the severity of his words. A few of the Masters exchanged looks—some of confusion, others of surprise. It wasn't every day that a Jedi openly criticised a fellow padawan like this, especially one as skilled and experienced as you. But Obi-Wan's mind was made up. He had seen the pattern, felt the dangerous pull of your impulsive actions, and the growing risk to both yourself and those around you.

Master Yoda remained silent for a long moment, his old eyes narrowing slightly as he absorbed Obi-Wan's words. He folded his hands in his lap, leaning back slightly, his expression unreadable. Master Qui-Gon, seated nearby, took a deep breath. It was a long exhale, but Obi-Wan couldn't quite decipher its meaning—whether it was one of understanding, disappointment, or something else entirely. It didn't matter, though. The only thing that mattered now was what Yoda would say.

"If certain, you are, take this into consideration, I will," Yoda finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. The gravity of his words seemed to settle in Obi-Wan's chest. It was as though Yoda had given him something to hold on to, even if only for a moment.

"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan said, his voice a touch hoarse as he bowed his head in respect. He could feel the worry in his body slowly begin to unravel, but there was still that nagging feeling, deep within him, that he had just taken a step that could not be undone. He had spoken against you, voiced his doubts about your future as a Jedi, and for the first time, he wondered if he had betrayed you in some way.

As he turned to leave, Obi-Wan cast one last glance at the Masters gathered around the table, their expressions unreadable. He hoped—no, prayed—that you wouldn't see it as a betrayal. After all, he had your best interests in mind. His loyalty to you had always been unwavering, and it would always be. But some things had to be said, and some paths had to be followed, no matter how difficult.

Obi-Wan left the room quietly, his mind still swirling with doubt and regret, but there was something in his chest—somewhere beneath the turmoil—that felt a little clearer. Maybe, just maybe, he was doing the right thing for you, even if you couldn't see it now.

***

Your eyes fluttered open, and the harsh fluorescent lights above pierced your senses. Squinting, you blinked several times until the bright surroundings came into focus. With a groan, you pushed yourself upright, rubbing at your eyes. The sharp, sterile scent of the medical bay filled your nostrils. You scanned the room, disoriented, the chaos and flames of your last memory feeling distant, like an echo in your mind. No fire. No alarms. Just the soft, rhythmic beeping of machines. Then, you saw him—Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, exhaustion etched deep into his face. You hadn't noticed the weight on your leg until you saw his head resting there, his breathing slow and steady, unaware you had stirred.

For a moment, you simply watched him, unwilling to disturb his rest. His posture was stiff, his robes dishevelled—evidence of hours spent at your side. A flicker of warmth lit in your chest, cutting through the haze of pain and confusion.

Then a fit of coughing erupted from your throat, dry and rattling, breaking the quiet. It startled both you and Obi-Wan, who bolted upright, wide-eyed and frantic. His bloodshot gaze darted around until it landed on you. The wave of relief that washed over his features was unmistakable.

"Hey, you," you rasped with a weak, hoarse laugh, though the words scraped your throat painfully. Obi-Wan surged forward, wrapping his arms around you in an instant, as if he feared you might disappear again. Only when your face was buried in his chest did you truly realise the toll your near-death experience had taken on him. The steady tremor in his body, the way he held you so tightly—it was all too much.

"I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan," you choked out, your arms weakly circling his back in return, but guilt churned in your stomach. His shaking body felt unnatural, the once-steady Jedi now trembling with raw emotion.

"No, I am sorry," Obi-Wan's voice cracked, and it nearly broke you to hear him like this. "I should have been there. I could've stopped it." You winced at his words, your heart twisting painfully. Obi-Wan, the steadfast and composed Jedi, now sounded fragile and consumed by self-blame. It felt like watching a mountain crumble.

"Don't think about the 'what-ifs,' Obi-Wan," you gently scolded him, pulling him closer if it were even possible, hoping the warmth of your embrace would steady him. "I'm okay now." His body tensed in your arms, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. The air between you felt charged with unspoken emotion—his guilt, your own—and the weight of it pressed down like a storm cloud.

His voice quivered when he spoke again. "You nearly died," he whispered, his body trembling. Hearing Obi-Wan so broken, so fragile, you felt a sharp pang of emotion swell in your chest. Tears pricked your eyes as you clung to him tighter, desperate to ease his pain.

"I know. I know," you murmured, rubbing slow, soothing circles into his back as if to somehow comfort him, to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. "But I didn't. And this was a risk we both knew we were taking when we chose this path, Obi."

You felt him go rigid in your arms. The realisation of how hard this mission, this life, was on both of you seemed to hang in the air, unspoken but undeniable.

"You're right," Obi-Wan said softly, but distant, like a wall had gone up between you. You wanted to reach for him, to pull him back into the warmth of your arms, but before you could, he wiped his eyes and stood. "You need rest," Obi-Wan said, his voice quieter as he reached the exit, a finality to it that left you feeling hollow.

"Wait, Obi," you called out, but it was too late. The door clicked shut behind him, and you were left in a silence that felt unbearably heavy. His demeanour had shifted so abruptly, and the sudden change left you feeling empty.

Curling onto your side, you pulled the thin blanket tightly around yourself. The warmth it offered was meagre, doing little to ward off the cold ache settling in your chest. Tears blurred your vision as you tried to steady your breathing, but the weight of everything—his pain, your guilt, the loss of connection—pressed down until it felt unbearable.

Your eyes fluttered shut and as exhaustion overtook you, dragging you back into a fitful sleep, the silence of the medical bay became all-encompassing. In the dark stillness of your dreams, everything faded—Obi-Wan's absence, your remorse, the echoes of fire—until all that remained was the heavy, quiet void.

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

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