#cast long shadows spoilers

[vivitalks]

i don't have coherent thoughts about it much less words but god just. kristen applebees realizes she's being attacked from within by kalina, and what does she do? her girlfriend just disappeared, she and riz are on their own, they haven't found the last ingredient they need to make the tincture to heal the shadow cat plague, and said plague is now manifesting enough to kill kristen from the inside, and kristen...doesn't save herself. she casts her one greater restoration on riz. she trusts her friend. kristen "crisis of faith" applebees, who spends the entire first half of high school with no idea what she believes in, finds herself dying from an unseen assailant and chooses, without a second's hesitation, to put her faith - and her life - in the hands of her friends. because sure, kristen may be a devout young woman, but she knows better than most that gods are just people with tremendous power. and you know what? her friends are people with tremendous power, too. and they care about her without exception, without doubt. so when the chips are down, kristen believes in her friends. not knowing how they'll come through, but always knowing that they will.

[clockwork-carstairs]

do you ever think about how matthew fairchild was such a sunshine coded character—a golden boy, floated through school, charmed everyone with his infamous smile; a starry-eyed dreamer who had faith in most things that weren’t himself. and how because of one moment of naivety he lost years of his life to devastating self-sabotage, believing himself worth nothing, deserving of nothing, drinking day by day to numb out the pain—because he believed people could only ever like him when he wasn’t sober, when he wasn’t fully himself. and how despite visibly not being okay, nobody ever really said anything about it until he basically hit rock bottom. and do you ever think about how matthew would’ve given up his love for cordelia in a second if it meant james could be happy, when james wouldn’t do the same? you knew. i told you in the letter. and how he joked and deflected so much to hide how sad he really was, because he believed no one would care enough to see it. i did not know that i looked sad, to you. because i think about it a lot and it makes me very sad

[kellykline]

with tears in my eyes they held hands once. at least they held hands once

[pasdetrois]

can i say something controversial... nina should have been the protagonist of monster

[misswynters]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞

featuring. Ekko x fem!reader

wc. 15.5k

synopsis. Born from house Arvino, one of the richest and influential families of piltover. You had it all from luxurious gifts, fancy meals, a magnificent bedroom and much more. You’re parents gave you everything you asked for. However still never satisfied you. You’re mind always looked at the injustice and suffering zaun was going through. That’s when you first met ekko, the firelights’ leader. Not very happy to have a pilty messing stuff up.

trope. “enemies to lovers”

warnings. slow burn, cursing, blood, kissing 0-0, suggestive

requested. by anon

a/n. slight spoilers for arcane s2, it’s more like enemies to friends to lovers (sorry) if there’s mistakes you don’t see it! aka not proofread (read it thrice) also there’s no war in this :)

Above, the shimmering towers stood tall, their wealth and power casting long shadows. Below, Zaun suffocated in its neon haze, its people forgotten in the depths of the city’s ambition. Whereas the glow of Piltover’s lights filled the skyline. From the balcony of your family estate, the stark contrast between Piltover and Zaun was undeniable.

“You think your actions are noble, but you’re a fool,” your father’s voice thundered from the dining room. His words, sharp and unyielding, echoed through the halls as you stood silently by the doorway. “Consorting with the undercity rabble is not only dangerous, it’s treacherous.”

“They’re not rabble. They’re people,” you countered, stepping forward with clenched fists. “You act like Zaun doesn’t exist, but they’re suffering because of Piltover’s greed.”

“You don’t understand the world you live in,” your mother added, her tone softer but no less cutting. “House Arvino holds power because we uphold order. Piltover thrives because of people like us. You risk everything with your reckless defiance.”

Frustration boiled within you. “Piltover thrives at the expense of Zaun. Those people deserve better.”

Your father slammed his fist onto the table. “Enough! You are an Arvino, and you will act like one. This rebellion of yours ends now.”

His command hung in the air, suffocating and absolute. You didn’t argue further. Instead, you turned on your heel and left, the weight of their disapproval bearing down on you. You wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Zaun had become a second home to you, even if it was a dangerous one. It was there, in the grimy depths of the undercity, that you had met Ekko. The boy with paint-streaked cheeks and a fire in his eyes had been as wary of you as you had been of him. Unfortunately, you had been too blinded by your own self-righteousness to notice the fire in his eyes. You thought your mission was noble, an act of goodwill to deliver medical supplies to Zaun’s struggling districts. Your family, House Arvino, had always prided itself on maintaining a veneer of philanthropy, even when their true motivations were rooted in politics. You had accompanied a group of Piltover enforcers on the trip, believing your presence would emphasize the importance of the task. You were wrong.

The moment you stepped into the heart of Zaun, the air itself seemed hostile. The tension was palpable, the sharp smell of chemical fumes mixing with the weight of countless wary stares from Zaunites who lined the streets. Your voice was soft and unsure as you addressed the gathered crowd, holding out your hands to show the crates of supplies. You thought you were doing something good, offering some small relief to people who had been forgotten.

But the enforcers who were armed and stoic, turned the scene into something far more sinister. They barked orders at the crowd, waving their weapons to ensure no one got too close. You had tried to intervene, to tell them this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but your voice was drowned out by the chaos they had already sown.

That was when the boy appeared, the one you heard slight rumors about. At first, you didn’t know exactly who he was, only that he seemed fearless as he stepped forward. Placing himself between the crowd and the enforcers. His voice rang out, cutting through the noise like a blade.

“Another topsider playing savior,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain. “You think you can fix Zaun with scraps from your table?”

You had never been spoken to like that before. His words, sharp and accusatory, made your cheeks burn with anger and embarrassment. You turned to him, trying to keep your composure despite the growing crowd that was watching the confrontation unfold.

“I’m not here to play savior,” you shot back, your voice steady even though your heart was racing. “I’m here to help.”

“Help?” He laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and mocking. “Your kind doesn’t help. You just come down here to feel good about yourselves, then leave us to clean up your mess.”

“I’m trying to make a difference!” you snapped, your frustration boiling over.

His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his posture radiating defiance. “If you really wanted to make a difference, you wouldn’t bring enforcers with you like we’re criminals. You’d be standing with us, not above us.”

The words hit harder than you expected. Somewhere deep down, you knew he was right. The enforcers’ presence had turned an act of charity into a display of control, a reminder of Piltover’s dominance over Zaun. But admitting that felt like defeat, and you weren’t ready to back down.

“This isn’t about standing above anyone,” you argued. “I came here because I care. That’s more than most people from Piltover would do.”

“And that’s supposed to make you special?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Newsflash, princess, Zaun doesn’t need your pity. We need change.”

The enforcers stepped in before the argument could escalate further, pushing the crowd back and ordering you to return to the transport. You left with the weight of his words pressing heavily on your chest, his voice echoing in your mind long after you were gone.

Over the weeks that followed, you found yourself returning to Zaun despite the tension and despite him. Every time you came, he was there, watching you with that same guarded expression. It seemed like he could sense your discomfort, the guilt you carried for what Piltover had done to his home.

“Back again?” he would say, leaning casually against a wall with a smirk that made your blood boil. “Guess you didn’t get the message last time.”

“I’m not here for your approval,” you’d hiss back, your tone dry. “I’m here for the people who actually need help.”

“You think you’re helping?” he’d shoot back, his voice low and laced with frustration. “All you’re doing is putting a bandage on a bullet wound.”

His words stung, not because they were cruel, but because they forced you to confront truths you didn’t want to face. He wasn’t wrong. Everything you did felt small, insignificant compared to the scale of Zaun’s struggles. And yet, you couldn’t stop coming back.

Ekko was unlike anyone you had ever known. He was quick-witted and determined, a rebel who refused to back down in the face of injustice. But he didn’t trust you, not completely. “You’re just another Pilty trying to fix a world you don’t understand,” he had told you once, his voice filled with disdain.

“And you’re just another rebel too angry to see the bigger picture,” you had shot back. Yet despite the constant sparring, you found yourself drawn to him, to the hope buried beneath his frustration.

That hope turned to chaos one night when enforcers raided the Firelights’ hideout. It happened so fast. One moment, you were in the Firelights’ hideout, quietly listening as Ekko outlined plans for their next move against Piltover’s oppression. The next, chaos erupted.

The sound of boots echoed sharply against the metal grates of Zaun’s narrow passages. The enforcers had found the hideout. Your breath caught as the unmistakable clatter of their weapons reverberated through the space. You stood frozen, staring at Ekko as he barked orders to the Firelights around him, his voice sharp and commanding.

“You brought them here, didn’t you?” His words were like a blade, cutting through the noise. His piercing gaze locked onto you, and your stomach churned with guilt.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, but your voice was drowned out by the growing commotion. The enforcers didn’t give anyone time to explain. They swarmed in, their heavy armor gleaming under the dim light, weapons raised. You reached for the nearest object which was a dainty metal rod. And tried stand your ground. You weren’t going to let them harm anyone, not here.

Ekko was already moving, his quick reflexes guiding him as he darted through the chaos. The Firelights fought back, using their intimate knowledge of Zaun’s layout to their advantage. Smoke bombs went off, shrouding the room in thick, stinging fog. He towards you with a slight disgusted look and yelled, “You have to leave, Now!”

“I’m not leaving,” you said, your voice defiant.

“You’ll just slow us down,” he snapped, the frustration in his tone cutting deeper than he intended. “They need me. And you need to go back to your perfect little life, staying safe.”

His words stung, but before you could argue, he vanished into the fray, leaving you behind. You tried to follow, weaving through the chaos, but you weren’t quick enough. An enforcer caught you in the shadows, his grip like iron as he slammed you against the wall. “Here you are.”

However the enforcers were relentless. One of them caught sight of you, his eyes narrowing as he grinned. You swung the rod with the little strength you had left, but it was no match for their training. Pain exploded across your abdomen as he shot you. It nearly missed your stomach, however you crumpled to the ground. Gasping for the little air you could muster.

Through the haze of smoke and pain, Ekko pull something from his belt. A device crackling with vibrant green energy. “Firelights, cover your eyes!” he shouted. The device emitted a blinding flash, followed by a wave of sound that sent the enforcers reeling. Their yells of confusion filled the air as they stumbled back, disoriented and clutching their helmets.

The Firelights seized the opportunity, retreating deeper into the hideout and disappearing into secret tunnels. Ekko crouched beside you, his hands shaking as he lifted your chin. “You okay?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern.

Without replied to his question, you stumbled out of his grasp. Going into the streets of Zaun, clutching your side as every step sent searing pain through your body. The world around you blurred, a mix of dim lights and the shadows of the towering structures above.

He was shocked to say the least. ‘Why did you leave so abruptly?’ he questioned himself. Ekko didn’t waste a second, he truly did try to hide it. But as soon as the enforcers were gone and the Firelights were safe, he was out the door. Searching for you and he didn’t want to admit it. He knew didn’t know you as much, but he knew you were stubborn. Matter fact for the short period of time he was with you, he knew you were too stubborn to admit how badly you were hurt.

“Where the hell did you go?” he muttered under his breath, scanning the narrow alleys and dimly lit corners of Zaun. His mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. You were nowhere to be found.

The beating left you crumpled on the ground, your vision blurred and your body trembling with pain. Somehow you managed to drag yourself back to Piltover, every step a battle against the agony that wrecked your body. By the time you stumbled into your family’s estate, the grand halls felt like a mockery of your suffering. Your parents returned hours later to find you collapsed in the foyer, your bruises stark against your weak skin. Their shock quickly turned to anger, though it was born of fear.

“This is what happens when you defy us,” your father said, his voice shaking with fury. “Do you see now? You can’t change the world. You can only get yourself killed.”

“I trying to help,” you murmured, your voice weak but resolute.

“They are not your people,” your mother said, her tone filled with a mix of pity and frustration. “You are our only child. We can’t lose you to some pointless crusade.” Their words lingered, but they didn’t understand. They couldn’t. The divide between Piltover and Zaun wasn’t just physical, it was ideological. You were caught between two worlds, neither one willing to accept you fully. The summons to the Council came the next morning. As you stood in the grand chamber, the weight of their judgment bore down on you. Ambessa Medarda, seated at the center, regarded you with cold disdain.

“You stand accused of undermining Piltover’s authority by associating with the undercity,” she said, her voice sharp and unyielding. “Do you deny these charges?”

“I was just trying to helping people,” you replied exhaustively, your voice steady despite the pain in your ribs.

Ambessa’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Helping? Piltover thrives because of order. And you, as an Arvino, have brought chaos to our city.”The council murmured their agreement, their disapproval a suffocating presence in the room.

“Your actions were reckless,” Ambessa continued. “And your injuries are your own doing. You clutched the knife and cut yourself on its blade, all in the name of some misguided sympathy for the undercity." Her words felt like another blow, each one landing with precision and force.

You straightened your back, though the pain flared at the effort. "I acted because the people of Zaun are ignored and oppressed. Piltover turns a blind eye while it prospers off their suffering. That's not order, it’s exploitation." The murmurs grew louder, some council members shifting uncomfortably in their seats. But Ambessa didn't waver. Her gaze bore into you, her lips curling with faint amusement.

"Such passion," she mused. "But passion without purpose is just noise. You may think yourself a savior, but all you've done is tarnish your family's name and threaten the stability of our city."

Before you could respond, the chamber doors swung open with a heavy groan, and your parents entered. Dressed in their finest, House Arvino's patriarch and matriarch carried themselves with the grace and dignity that Piltover revered. Yet the tension in their features betrayed their unease.

"Ambessa," your father began, his tone measured but firm. "My child's actions, while impulsive, stem from a place of compassion. Surely the Council can recognize that their intentions were not malicious."

"Compassion?" Ambessa's tone was mocking. "Compassion does not excuse rebellion. House Arvino has always stood for loyalty to Piltover's ideals. Is that no longer the case?"

Your mother stepped forward, her voice calm but resolute. "Our loyalty has never wavered. But to degrade my child in front of this council as if they are a common criminal is unacceptable." Ambessa's expression darkened.

"Unacceptable is your heir jeopardizing the balance we've worked so hard to maintain. Zaun is a powder keg, and actions like theirs threaten to ignite it." You bit your lip to keep from speaking. The words you wanted to hurl at her-at all of them-burned on your tongue, but your mother's warning glance silenced you.

"House Arvino will address this matter internally," your father said, his voice brooking no argument. "We will ensure that such actions are not repeated."

Ambessa leaned back in her chair, studying your parents with a calculating gaze. "See that you do. Piltover cannot afford dissent from within its own ranks." The council murmured their agreement, and the session was adjourned. As you were escorted from the chamber, the weight of the council's disdain hung heavy over you.

Back in the confines of your family's estate, the anger you had suppressed boiled over. You slammed your hands against the polished surface of your desk, the pain in your ribs flaring with the movement. "They're cowards," you spat, your voice trembling with fury. "All of them. Sitting in their gilded towers while Zaun suffers."

"Alright thats enough," your father said sharply, entering the room with your mother close behind. "You don't understand the position you've put us in. House Arvino cannot afford to be seen as weak or disloyal."

"I don't care about any of that!" you shouted, turning to face them. "Zaun doesn't have the luxury of appearances. They're dying while we live in luxury!"

Your mother's expression softened, but her voice was firm. "We understand your frustration. But your actions cannot continue. They will destroy you, and us." Their words echoed Ekko's from the night before, and the parallel struck a chord. You sank into a chair, the fight leaving you as exhaustion took its place. "I can't just stop. Not when I know what's happening down there."

Your father sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Then you must find another way. A way that doesn't make enemies of those who hold power." The conversation ended there, but the fire within you didn't dim. If anything, it burned brighter. You couldn't stop. Not now.

Months have passed since your bruises had faded were a careful balancing act, though you still visited Zaun, slipping away under the guise of errands or charitable outings. But you couldn’t risk your parents catching on. To lessen their suspicions, you began inviting Ekko to your home. It was a calculated move, one that made your absences less frequent and gave the illusion that you’d abandoned your cause entirely.

Your room was a testament to Piltover’s grandeur, a lavish blend of opulence and elegance. High ceilings adorned with intricate gold detailing framed the space. The sheer curtains cascaded from tall windows, filtering moonlight across the polished marble floor. A canopy bed, draped in silken fabrics, sat at the room’s center, its pillows and blankets impossibly soft. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes ranging from engineering texts to poetry. A chandelier, all crystal and gleaming light, hung overhead, casting a warm glow over every corner.

It was in this very room that Ekko sat now, hidden behind the lush velvet curtains of one of the tall windows. Your father had come to check on you earlier, his heavy footsteps unmistakable in the hallway. When he entered, you were seated at your desk, feigning focus on a mundane ledger. He lingered by the door, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on you. “You’ve been staying home more often,” he observed.

You offered a nonchalant shrug. “I realized it was pointless to keep going there. It’s useless trying to fix what can’t be fixed.”

Your father’s face betrayed nothing, but there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “A wise choice,” he said simply, and without another word, he left.

The door clicked shut, and you exhaled slowly, waiting until his footsteps faded down the hall. Then, turning your head slightly, you murmured, “You can come out now.”

Ekko stepped from behind the curtains, his movements silent but confident. He was a great contrast to your room’s pristine elegance. His clothes patched and worn, his presence a reminder of the worlds you tried to somehow balance. “You’re getting good at lying,” he remarked, a teasing edge to his tone.

You rolled your eyes, motioning for him to sit on the plush chair near your desk. “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t insist on brainstorming plans here.”

“It’s safer,” he replied, settling into the chair and pulling a small notebook from his pocket. “Besides, you’re the one with the luxury of access. If we’re going to unite the cities, we need someone who can work both sides.”

You hated how his words made your heart race. Not because of their weight but because it was Ekko saying them. Somewhere in the months of sneaking around and strategizing, you’d grown to like him in a way that went far beyond friendly admiration. You buried those feelings deep, telling yourself there was no time for distractions.

The hours passed as the two of you pored over maps, scribbled ideas, and argued over logistics. The moon rose higher in the sky, its silver light pouring through the windows and bathing your room in an ethereal glow. Ekko grew quieter as the night wore on, his usual sharp wit replaced by a pensive silence. You noticed his gaze flickering to you more often, lingering for moments too long before darting away. At first, you ignored it, chalking it up to exhaustion. But when you caught him staring for the fifth time, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Something on your mind?” you asked, leaning back in your chair.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just thinking.”

“About?” you questioned, leaning back against your chair.

“About how strange it is, being here,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. “This room, this world…it feels like it shouldn’t exist. Like it’s too perfect to be real.”

“It’s not perfect,” you said quietly, your gaze dropping to the papers on your desk. “It’s a gilded cage. Nothing more.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words. Then, slowly, he stood and crossed the room to where you sat.

“I hate to say this. But atleast i’m here…” he said hesitantly, his voice low and steady.

Something in his tone made your breath hitch. You looked up at him, and the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you leaned in.

Ekko met you halfway, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that left you breathless. His hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. It was nothing like you'd imagined. It was raw, desperate, and full of the emotions you'd both kept bottled up for too long.

He pulled you to your feet, guiding you back toward the bed without breaking the kiss. The world blurred around you, your senses overwhelmed by the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, the way he made you feel alive in a way you never had before.

You fell onto the bed, the soft blankets and pillows cushioning your back as he leaned over you, his weight a comforting pressure. His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as he kissed you again and again, each one more passionate than the last.

It wasn't until his arms braced on either side of your head that he pulled back, his chest heaving as he stared down at you. The moonlight cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the softness in his eyes.

"Do you want me to keep going?" he asked, his voice hoarse. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "You might as well…" And as he leaned down to kiss you again, you knew there was no going back from this.

Golden hues of the afternoon sun spilled into your room through the tall, arched windows, painting the polished wooden floors in a mosaic of light and shadow. Outside, the tranquil sounds of Piltover carried through the crisp air. The distant hum of mechanized carriages, the faint chatter of passersby, and the melodic chirping of birds perched along the grand gardens that surrounded your home. Everything was perfect, picturesque even, but it all felt hollow.

Your bedroom was a masterpiece of luxury, a reflection of House Arvino’s status. Elegant bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound tomes you once eagerly devoured. A velvet armchair sat by the fireplace, its cushion still as pristine as the day it arrived, and your grand four-poster bed was draped in silk, untouched except for the rumpled corner where you sat. Yet, despite the warmth and beauty of the space, it felt cold.

You hadn’t touched your breakfast that morning, nor the one the day before. The silver tray your maid brought hours ago sat untouched on your writing desk, the tea long gone cold. Your appetite had vanished with him.

“Miss,” came a tentative voice from the doorway. You turned to see Anya, your maid, standing there with a concerned expression. She stepped into the room, her brow furrowed as her gaze swept over you. “You haven’t eaten again. This isn’t healthy.”

You waved her off without meeting her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she pressed gently, her voice tinged with worry. “You’ve barely touched your meals for over a week. If this continues, I’ll have to tell your parents.”

Her words sent a jolt through you. The last thing you wanted was for your parents to get involved. They wouldn’t understand. They never did. But you knew Anya was serious. Her loyalty to you didn’t outweigh her duty to ensure your well-being.

“Alright,” you relented, forcing a weak smile. “I’ll eat later.”

Anya didn’t look convinced, but she nodded and left the room. The heavy door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. You leaned back against the plush pillows of your bed, staring up at the intricate carvings on the ceiling. Days had turned into weeks since Ekko had kissed you in this very room. Weeks since you’d seen him, since you’d spoken to him. At first, you’d waited eagerly, expecting him to climb through your window with that same confident smirk he always wore. But as the days passed, hope turned to disappointment.

However, the first week had been agony. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the trees outside, had sent your heart racing, only for it to sink when you realized it wasn’t him. You told yourself he was busy, that Zaun demanded too much of him to spare a moment for you. But as the second week came and went, you began to question everything.

Was the kiss a mistake? Did he regret it? The thought gnawed at you, leaving you restless and irritable. Eventually, you stopped waiting. You stopped glancing at the window, stopped listening for the familiar sound of his footsteps. If he didn’t want to see you, then fine. You wouldn’t waste your time waiting for someone who clearly didn’t care.

But despite your best efforts to move on, the ache in your chest remained. It showed in the way you pushed away your meals, the way you avoided the social gatherings your parents encouraged you to attend. Your mother had noticed, of course, her sharp eyes taking in your pale complexion and listless demeanor. “Are you unwell, darling?” she’d asked one evening, her tone as polished as ever.

You’d smiled and lied, assuring her it was nothing more than fatigue. She’d accepted your answer, but her gaze lingered, skeptical.

Now, as you sat in your room, the weight of it all pressing down on you, you realized you couldn’t keep living like this. You couldn’t keep letting his absence control your life. If he didn’t care, then neither should you. But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, the truth was undeniable. You missed him.

The days stretched on, blending into a monotony of forced smiles and empty conversations. You threw yourself into the routines of Piltover’s elite. Attending social calls, charitable luncheons, and the parties where everyone whispered behind jeweled fans about alliances and intrigue. On the surface, you seemed like yourself again. You laughed when expected, nodded politely during dull conversations, and played the part of the perfect child of House Arvino.

But beneath the carefully constructed façade, a storm brewed. No matter how hard you tried to bury it, the memory of Ekko lingered, sharper and more vivid with each passing day. His voice, his touch, the way he had kissed you. It all haunted you. It didn’t make sense, you told yourself. He was just a friend, nothing more. Yet the thought of him ignoring you, of deliberately staying away, clawed at your chest.

One night, long after the rest of your house had gone to bed, you sat by your window, staring out at the glowing lights of Piltover. The thought hit you with the force of a hammer. You know deep down that you couldn’t keep waiting. If he wouldn’t come to you, then you would go to him.

The decision wasn’t easy. It took days to build up the courage, to push aside the fear of what you might find. But when you finally made your way to Zaun, the heavy air and dim light of the undercity greeted you like an old adversary. You navigated the twisting streets, every step bringing back memories of the times you’d spent here. How he had carefully and slowly opened this world to you, how you’d fought for it together. Well atleast try to.

When you finally reached the Firelights’ hideout, you felt your stomach tighten. It looked the same as ever, but something about it felt different. You spotted him almost immediately, standing near a table strewn with maps and tools, his back to you. “Ekko,” you called out, your voice steady despite the tremor in your chest.

He turned slowly, his face unreadable. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes. Was it surprise, maybe even relief. Either way it didn’t matter because it was gone in an instant, replaced by an icy look. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone cold.

The words hit you harder than you expected. “I… I came to see you. It’s been weeks, and—”

“And what?” He cut you off, turning away to fiddle with something on the table. “You’ve got a life up there. What do you need me for?”

Your chest tightened, anger bubbling to the surface. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I just forgot about you. You’re the one who stopped coming around.”

He scoffed, finally turning to face you. “Stopped coming around? You think I’ve got time to play house? I’ve got real things to deal with here, things that actually matter.”

The words stung, but you refused to back down. “And I don’t? Do you think it’s easy for me to come here, to fight for a place I don’t even belong to? I thought we were doing this together, Ekko.”

He stepped closer, his voice rising. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t belong here. This about you. You can go back to your fancy dinners and your perfect life anytime you want, but this is my reality.”

You clenched your fists, your own voice shaking with anger. “Don’t you dare act like I haven’t sacrificed anything! Do you know what it’s like to lie to everyone you care about, to pretend you’re someone you’re not, just so you can try to make a difference?”

“Sacrifice?” he shot back, his voice dripping with disbelief. “You don’t know the first thing about sacrifice.” The air between you crackled with tension, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on you both. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the anger simmering in the silence.

Finally, you took a shaky breath, your voice softer but no less firm. “You don’t get to decide what I care about, Ekko. I came here because I thought you were my friend.”

He looked away, his jaw tight. “I didn’t ask for you to come.” The words were like a slap to the face, but you refused to let him see how much they hurt. “Fine,” you said, your voice cold. “If that’s how you feel, then I won’t bother you again.”

You turned on your heel, walking away before he could see the tears starting to swell in your eyes. But just as you reached the door, his voice stopped you. “Wait.”

You hesitated, your hand on the worn wood, but you didn’t turn around.

“I…” His voice faltered, the anger replaced by something softer. He inched his head as he paced around, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You looked back at him, his expression finally cracking. There was pain in his eyes, the same pain you’d been carrying for weeks.

“Then what did you mean?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling.

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… I didn’t know what to say. After what happened, I thought it’d be easier if I stayed away. But it wasn’t.”

Your shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of you. Looking at with with complete disbelief. “Seriously! You could’ve just told me.”

He nodded, his expression filled with regret. “Yeah. I should’ve.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the weight of the argument lingering in the air. But as you looked at him, at the boy who had opened your eyes to so much, you felt the anger fade, replaced by something else. This was something you weren’t ready to admit to anyone.

A few months have passed and things were relatively calm, much hasn’t happened since then. The suffocating air of Piltover’s council chamber lingered in your mind as you strode through the bustling streets of Zaun. The conversations in those hallowed halls always left a bitter taste on your tongue. They spoke of progress and prosperity, but beneath the gilded rhetoric, it was all about control. To control of resources, people, and power. It was a game you were born into but had grown to despise.

You moved swiftly, your hood pulled low to shield your face from prying eyes. The undercity was alive with its usual chaos, but you’d long learned to navigate its labyrinthine streets without drawing attention. This was your escape, your solace. The world of House Arvino, your family’s wealth, influence, and ties to the Council. It all felt more like chains with each passing day.

The hideout was tucked deep within the shadows of Zaun, a sanctuary for the oppressed and rebellious. It had become a second home to you, a place where you could finally breathe. Ekko had been wary of you at first, rightfully so. Your name carried weight in Piltover, and trust wasn’t something he gave freely. But over time, you’d proven yourself.

Today, the air in the hideout was thick with tension. Ekko was at the center of it all, his voice calm but commanding as he gave orders to his crew. He noticed you immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as you approached.

“Back again?” he asked, leaning against a makeshift table. His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, a quiet concern he rarely voiced outright.

“I can’t seem to stay away,” you replied, offering a small smile.

His lips twitched, almost forming a grin, but he shook his head instead. “You’re playing a dangerous game, y’know?”

You shrugged. “I know.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze lingering as if he was trying to decipher something. Then, with a sigh, he gestured for you to follow him to a quieter corner.

“What’s really going on?” he asked once you were alone. “You’ve been coming here more often, and I know it’s not just to check on the Firelights.”

You hesitated, your fingers gripping the edge of your cloak. “I… I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Pretending like everything’s fine topside when I know how much blood is on their hands. My family’s hands.”

He frowned, his usual confidence giving way to something softer. “You’re not responsible for what they do.”

“Aren’t I?” you countered, your voice rising. “I’m part of them, Ekko. Every time I go back to that house, every time I sit in those meetings, I’m complicit. I’m part of the system that’s crushing this place.”

The intensity of your words caught him off guard, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding. “Then why do you keep going back?”

“Because…” You trailed off, your throat tightening. “Because I thought I could help. That I could use my position to make a difference. But now, I’m not so sure. The Council sees Zaun as nothing more than a problem to be solved, more importantly, destroyed.”

Ekko’s jaw tightened, his anger barely contained. “They’ll never stop. Not unless we make them.”

You couldn’t stop thinking of the face ekko made when you told him what you were internally thinking. How the council thinks so poorly about zaun, how it can be something that wouldn’t be missed if it was gone. It was horrible that most of the topsiders thought the same way, had the same mindset.

You walked briskly, the streets unfamiliar under the heavy shadows of the evening. You had chosen this route for its discretion, a calculated decision that now felt dangerous in its isolation.

Your heart pounded in your chest, though you didn't want to admit why. It wasn't fear of being recognized or stopped by one of Zaun's residents. No, this was something more insidious. A seed of doubt planted by weeks of balancing on a blade's edge between two lives. House Arvino's influence was undeniable, and it had kept you shielded from true danger for so long. But here in Zaun, your family name meant less than nothing. To most, you were just another noble, another cog in the machine grinding them into dust.

Ambessa had recently cornered you in Piltover's glittering council halls, her words honeyed but laced with venom. She had offered you promises of power, privilege, and security for your family. In order to gain immunity from suspicion, all in exchange for complete submission. You'd nodded and played your role, but the encounter left you hollow. The high society life you'd once cherished now felt like a gilded cage, and her offer only tightened the bars.

Yet, her influence was terrifying. Under Ambessa's direction, the Council had started scrutinizing House Arvino with an alarming intensity. The Firelights, they claimed, had spies in Piltover. And somehow, House Arvino's connections to Zaun became their scapegoat. You were well aware of what that scrutiny meant-your family was being squeezed, maneuvered into a position where betrayal seemed the only way to survive. A betrayal by who? you thought.

As you turned a corner into an empty alley, those doubts turned into a growing unease. The silence around you felt oppressive, unnatural. You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder. That was when the first strike landed, the butt of the gun hitting your head. You staggered, gasping in pain, only to be shoved against the damp wall. A rough hand grabbed your cloak and yanked it back, revealing your face to the enforcers.

"Well, well," one sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "A little lost noble playing savior in Zaun yet again."

"Let go!" you hissed, trying to pull free. But there were too many of them, and their grips were forceful and rough.

"We know all about your little meetings with the boy," another enforcer said, driving his fist into your stomach. "Did you really think you could run around down here without consequences? Or did your family forget to teach you how the real world works?" The pain blurred your vision as you crumpled to the ground. You clawed at the dirt, trying to crawl away, but another blow landed, then another.

Laughter echoed around you as they kicked and struck without mercy. The worst part wasn't the physical pain. It was the guilt, the sickening realization that you'd been naive enough to believe there could be change. Especially from within the Council's walls. You'd hoped that by walking the line between your family and the Firelights, you could create something better. But this? This was your reward for dreaming too much.

Tears blurred your vision as you curled into yourself, trying to shield your head. "Stupid," you whispered through clenched teeth. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." You slammed your fist against your temple, desperate to drown out the pain, the voices, the failure.

The enforcers stepped back momentarily, likely to assess whether you were still conscious. But before they could strike again, a loud crackling sound filled the air. "Back off," came a familiar voice, sharp and commanding.

You barely managed to open your eyes, but the sight was unmistakable. Ekko and his hoverboard gleaming as he charged forward. Behind him, several Firelights emerged from the shadows, their makeshift weapons glowing in the dim light.

"What the-" one enforcer started, but Ekko was already upon him, a precise swing of his bat sending the man sprawling. The Firelights fought with a ferocity that sent the enforcers scattering, though Ekko's eyes never left you. He reached your side in moments, dropping to his knees. "Hey," he said, his voice softer now. "Don’t go close your eyes, stay with me now."

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sob. Blood trickled from a huge gash above your brow, staining your face. Ekko pressed a hand to your shoulder to steady you, but you flinched. Your fist weakly hitting your own head again. "Stop it," he said firmly, grabbing your wrist before you could hurt yourself further. "Hey! Don't do that."

"I'm an idiot," you mumbled, your voice barely audible. "| thought... I thought they could change. That Piltover could change. But I was wrong. They'll never stop."

His expression softened, though his jaw was still tight with anger. "You're not an idiot. You're just optimistic... too hopeful for your own good."

The Firelights surrounded you, their movements tense as they prepared for more enforcers to arrive. Ekko lifted you carefully, his arm supporting your weight. "We need to move," one of his crew said.

"Yeah i know," Ekko replied, his eyes still on you. "Let's get out of here."

As he carried you to safety, the weight of your choices pressed down on you like never before. Your family would demand answers. The Council would escalate their efforts. And Ambessa? Oh, she’s gonna have a fieldday with this. She would stop at nothing to make you pay for what she'd see, see it as a betrayal to your own people. But as Ekko held you steady, his presence a grounding force amidst the chaos, you realized something else. You were no longer just caught between two worlds, you were tearing one down to build the other.

Ekko’s chambers weren’t lavish, but they were purposeful, an organized chaos that spoke of a leader always in motion. The space was tucked inside one of the largest branches of the Firelight’s sprawling treehouse hideout. The soft glow of lanterns filled the room, their light reflecting off walls adorned with maps, sketches, and scattered tools. From the small window, you could see the hideout below, a buzzing network of walkways, platforms, and people moving with quiet purpose.

The bed you lay on was makeshift but sturdy, piled with blankets and pillows that smelled faintly of Zaun’s metal-tinged air. Your body ached everywhere. Sharp, stinging pains in some places, a deep, relentless soreness in others. Slowly, you tried to sit up, wincing as the movement sent sharp jolts of pain through your ribs.

Across the room, Ekko stood at a workbench, tinkering with something that sparked faintly under his fingers. His braids were tied back, and his jacket was slung over the back of a chair, leaving him in a simple shirt that clung to his frame. When he glanced over and saw you struggling to rise, his eyes widened, and he immediately abandoned his project.

“Hey, whoa—what do you think you’re doing?” he asked, crossing the room in a heartbeat.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as you tried to wave him off.

“You’re not fine,” he countered, his hands carefully but firmly guiding you back down onto the bed. “You’ve been out for two days, and you can barely sit up without wincing.”

“I can handle it,” you said, though your body betrayed you with another sharp wince as you tried to adjust yourself on the pillows.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Ekko replied dryly, but his voice softened as he knelt beside the bed. “Seriously. You need to rest. Let me help.”

There was a quiet moment as he adjusted the pillows behind you, moving with surprising gentleness. His hands lingered briefly, his eyes scanning your face as if double checking for signs of discomfort.

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

He shook his head, leaning back on his heels. “You don’t have to thank me. I just… You scared the hell out of me, y’know?”

You glanced away, guilt stirring in your chest. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I didn’t think it would get THAT bad.”

Ekko sat back on the floor, his arms resting on his knees as he studied you. “Why did you do it?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “When I found you, you were hitting yourself and saying all these… awful things. About yourself.”

Your breath hitched at the memory, shame washing over you. “It’s just… something I do when I’m frustrated,” you admitted, not meeting his gaze. “I was angry, at everyone and everything. Y’know, I thought I could make a difference, but I was wrong. I let everyone down.”

“Oh come on don’t say that,” Ekko said firmly, cutting you off. “You didn’t let anyone down. You’re one of the only people from Piltover who actually cares about Zaun. And yeah, maybe you were too optimistic, but that’s not a bad thing. You don’t deserve what they did to you.” His words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, he added, “It’s not safe for you to go back to Piltover.”

You frowned, meeting his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been hearing things,” Ekko said, his expression darkening. “Rumors. Ambessa’s pissed. She thinks you’ve betrayed the Council, and she’s not the kind of person to let something like that slide. Word is, she wants your head.” The weight of his words settled heavily on your chest, and you slumped back against the pillows. “So that’s it, then?” you said bitterly. “I can’t go home. I can’t go back to Piltover. What am I supposed to do now?”

Ekko leaned closer, his gaze unwavering. “You stay here,” he said simply. “With me. You’ve got people who will vouch for you for the most part. I’ll fight for you.” Something in his tone made your chest tighten, and for the first time in days, a small, hesitant smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Ekko. For literally everything.”

He reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “Anytime .”

, marked with red ink, highlighted the areas where House Arvino’s trade routes intersected with Zaun’s underbelly.

A grizzled Baron leaned forward, his metallic fingers tapping against the table. “House Arvino’s little noble has gone rogue,” he rasped, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “The Council’s after them, sure, but that just makes this all the more interesting for us.”

Another Baron, her voice honeyed but sharp, chimed in. “If we get our hands on them, imagine the leverage we’d have. Not just over Arvino, but the Council and even the Firelights. They’re a walking, breathing key to the chaos we’ve been craving.”

“They’re already in Zaun,” another added, her tone laced with confidence. “All we need is patience. When the time is right, we’ll make our move.” The Barons exchanged nods, their plan unspoken but clear. For now, they would wait, watching, their web of spies and informants slowly tightening around you.

From across the platform, Ekko leaned casually against a railing, watching the interaction unfold. His arms were crossed, but there was a noticeable softness in his gaze, a flicker of something close to admiration.

In the days that followed, the children of the hideout began to gravitate toward you. They tugged at your hands, peppering you with questions about Piltover and laughing at your awkward attempts to keep up with their boundless energy. You found yourself helping where you could, organizing supplies, assisting with small repairs, and even attempting to teach some of the younger ones how to read.

Though the older Firelights were slower to trust, you noticed their glances were no longer as sharp, their whispers not as harsh. You were earning your place here, bit by bit, though it was a far cry from the life you had once known. Piltover, with its grand halls and polished façades, felt like a distant memory now, one you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to cling to.

Ekko, ever watchful, seemed to take quiet satisfaction in your efforts. He didn’t say much, but his presence was definitely there. Whether he was checking on you or working alongside the others. There was a rhythm to life in the hideout, and you were beginning to find your place within it.

Unbeknownst to you, danger loomed closer than you realized. The Chem Barons’ spies were everywhere, watching, reporting back with meticulous detail. Every interaction you had, every movement you made, was noted. To them, you were a pawn in a much larger game, one that could tip the balance of power in Zaun.

“They’re softening,” one spy reported back, his voice low as he spoke into a communicator hidden beneath his cloak. “The Firelights trust them more every day. If we move now, it’ll be too obvious.”

“Let them feel safe,” came the reply, cold and calculating. “When the time is right, we’ll take them. And when we do, House Arvino will learn what happens when they meddle in Zaun’s affairs.”

It was another ordinary morning in the hideout when you decided to venture outside Ekko’s chambers. The soreness in your body was a dull ache now, manageable but constant. As you stepped onto the main platform, the sunlight filtering through the leaves felt warm on your skin, a stark contrast to the chill of Piltover’s marble halls.

You hadn’t noticed Ekko watching you until you caught his reflection in the metal plating of a nearby railing. He was perched on a ledge, his goggles pushed up onto his forehead, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’re staring again,” you said, your tone teasing as you turned to face him fully.

Ekko smirked, hopping down from the ledge with practiced ease. “Just making sure you’re not overdoing it,” he shot back. “You’ve got a habit of biting off more than you can chew.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms despite the ache in your shoulders. “I’m fine, Ekko. I’ve been fine. You don’t have to keep hovering.”

His expression softened, but he didn’t back down. “Someone has to. If it weren’t for me, you’d probably still be lying in the street.” The reminder stung, not because it wasn’t true, but because it forced you to confront just how fragile your position had become. You looked away, scanning the hideout below where Firelights bustled about their tasks. The children’s laughter floated up, a soothing balm to the tension that threatened to settle between you and Ekko.

“I’ve been trying to help,” you murmured. “I don’t want to be a burden. It’s just that…” You trailed off, unsure of how to put the conflict in your heart into words.

Ekko stepped closer, his voice low and steady. “You’re not a burden,” he said firmly. “But you’re not invincible either. And if you keep throwing yourself into danger like this, someone’s going to take advantage of it.” His words hit harder than you cared to admit, but before you could respond, a group of children came running up, dragging you into their latest adventure A game that involved climbing ropes strung between the platforms. You gave Ekko a grateful smile, silently promising him you’d be careful, even if you weren’t entirely sure how.

That night, as the Firelights settled into the quiet hum of evening, Ekko pulled you aside. His chambers felt more like a refuge now than a room, its warmth amplified by the soft glow of firelight reflecting off polished metal and glass.

“You’ve been doing good here,” he began, leaning against his workbench. “The kids adore you, and even the older crew is starting to come around. But it’s not just about fitting in, you know?”

You tilted your head, unsure where he was going with this. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his fingers drumming against the table. “The Chem Barons,” he said finally, his tone heavy. “They’ve got their eyes on you now. Your family’s deals with them? Those don’t go unnoticed. And with the Council already hunting you, you’re stuck between two very dangerous sides.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a shroud. “So what do I do?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

Ekko stepped closer, his gaze meeting yours. “Like i said earlier, you stay here. The Firelights are your best chance now. We’ll protect you, but you’ve got to let us.”

You swallowed hard, nodding despite the fear gnawing at your resolve. “And my family?”

“Well they already made their choice,” he said, his tone softening. “Now you’ve got to make yours.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The firelight flickered, casting long shadows on the walls. Ekko’s steady presence was a comfort, a reminder that you weren’t as alone as you felt.

You have spent the last few weeks peacefully managing your new life in zaun. As for today, it was surely a day to remember. It had been long but rewarding. You’d spent most of it helping around the hideout, patching up clothes, organizing supplies, and entertaining the children with small stories and makeshift games. Their laughter had been infectious, warming a part of you that you didn’t even realize had grown cold. But now, as the sun set and the last streaks of orange faded from the sky, exhaustion crept over you like a heavy blanket.

Returning to Ekko’s chambers felt like stepping into a sanctuary. The room was quiet, the gentle hum of activity outside muffled by the thick wood and steel walls. The soft glow of a makeshift lamp illuminated the space, casting warm shadows across the worn furniture. The room smelled faintly of oil and smoke, mixed with something earthy. You didn’t even bother taking off your boots, flopping onto the bed with a sigh and burying your face in the worn but surprisingly soft blankets.

Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours. You weren’t sure. You only stirred when you heard the sound of the door opening and closing quietly. Lifting your head, you spotted Ekko standing near the entrance, his figure backlit by the dim lights outside. His jacket was off, his sleeveless shirt revealing the lean muscle of his arms. His hair was tied back tonight, though a few strands had fallen loose, framing his face in a way that made your chest tighten.

“You look dead,” he teased, though there was no humor in his voice. His eyes swept over you, his usual sharpness softened by concern.

“I feel dead,” you replied, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Ekko crossed the room in a few long strides, pulling a chair closer to sit by the bedside. “Long day?”

You nodded, not bothering to sit up. “Rewarding, though. The kids are exhausting, but in a good way. I think I’m finally starting to feel like I’m… I don’t know, contributing?”

He leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “You’ve done more than enough already. They’re warming up to you faster than I thought they would. Guess you’ve got a knack for making people feel safe.”

His words brought a faint smile to your lips, but your body felt too heavy to do much more than that. “Maybe. Or maybe they just like the shiny Piltover noble playing dress-up as a Firelight.”

“You’re more than that,” he said softly, almost too softly for you to hear. The weight of his gaze drew your attention. Turning your head, you found his eyes fixed on you, dark and intense in a way that made your stomach twist. There was something unspoken in his expression, something raw and magnetic.

“Ekko,” you said, his name slipping from your lips like a warning. He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he brought himself closer to your level. The air between you grew thick, charged with an unspoken tension that neither of you seemed willing to break.

Your breath hitched as his hand moved, not to touch you, but to hover near your face, as if he wasn’t sure he had the right. “You should rest,” he said finally, though his voice was strained, as though it was the last thing he wanted to say.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice betrayed you. There was a nervous tremor there, one that you couldn’t quite suppress.

“You’re not,” he replied, his tone sharper this time, though the edge was softened by the way his hand dropped to his lap, curling into a fist. “And you shouldn’t have to keep pretending you are.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing in your chest. He was too close, his presence overwhelming in a way that left you both yearning and terrified. For a moment, you thought he might lean in, that he might close the unbearable distance between you. And part of you wanted him to. But you couldn’t.

As if sensing your hesitation, Ekko pulled back, though his expression betrayed the conflict raging inside him. He rose from the chair abruptly, turning his back to you as he ran a hand over his face. “I need to check on something,” he said, his voice tight.

You sat up slightly, confusion and guilt warring within you. “Ekko, wait—”

“There’s food on the table,” he interrupted, not turning to face you. “You should eat. And…” He hesitated, his hand resting on the doorknob. “I left something for you. Thought you might like it.”

Before you could respond, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. You stared at the space he’d just vacated, the room suddenly feeling much larger and lonelier than it had before.

Rising from the bed, you made your way to the small table in the corner. A covered plate of food sat there, still warm, alongside a neatly wrapped package. Your fingers trembled as you opened it, revealing a small, intricately carved pendant in the shape of a firefly. The sight of it brought a lump to your throat. You clutched the pendant tightly, sinking back into the chair as a wave of emotions threatened to overwhelm you. Ekko had left, but his presence lingered in every corner of the room, in the care he’d shown you, in the gift he’d left behind.

You closed your eyes, the weight of the hectic day and the unresolved tension between you pressing down like a heavy blanket. But even as exhaustion pulled you under, you couldn’t shake the memory of his eyes. The way they had looked at you, filled with longing and restraint.

Hours ticked by like an endless parade of thoughts that refused to settle. You sat in Ekko’s chair, knees drawn up slightly as your elbows resting on them. cradling your head in your hands. A sigh escaped your lips, heavy and full of frustration, as your thoughts spiraled into overthinking once again. Why hadn’t he kissed you earlier?

At first, you tried to dismiss it as if it was nothing, just a fleeting moment, something that could be easily explained away by the heat of the moment. But deep down, you knew better. The way he had looked at you wasn’t casual or friendly. It was something more, something intense and unspoken.

Still, you couldn’t help but doubt. Maybe he had been teasing, the way friends sometimes did to lighten the mood. Maybe he didn’t feel the same, and you’d simply read too much into it. But then your mind wandered back to that day in your bedroom. The memory of his closeness as the tension that sparked between you like lightning in a thunderstorm.

Friends don’t act like that.

But then again, why had he ignored you for weeks after that moment? Why hadn’t he said anything or even done anything, to give you some clarity? The questions swirled in your head, each one feeding into the next, until your chest felt tight and your breathing shallow.

You let out another sigh, leaning forward until your forehead almost touched your knees. “What are you doing to me, Ekko?” you murmured to yourself, the words barely audible in the quiet room.

You glanced at the door for the hundredth time, wondering where he’d gone. What was keeping him out so late or rather so early, given the faint light of sun beginning to creep into the room. Would he even come back tonight? Or was this going to be like before, where he disappeared for days, leaving you to piece together the fragments of what you thought you understood about him?

The thought of being ignored again made your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared to admit. You leaned back in the chair, closing your eyes against the onslaught of emotions. Sleep pulled at you, but you resisted, stubbornly staying awake as if you could somehow summon him back to you. Eventually, though, your exhaustion won. Your head lolled against the back of the chair, your breathing evening out as sleep claimed you.

Ekko slipped into the room quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound against the wooden floor. The sight of you hit him like a punch to the chest. There you were, curled up in his chair, fast asleep. Your face was soft in slumber, but there was a faint crease between your brows. Almost as if even your dreams couldn’t fully erase the tension you’d been feeling. His gaze softened as he took you in, a pang of guilt threading through his chest.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Jeez…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Carefully, he crossed the room and crouched beside you. You stirred slightly at his presence, murmuring something incoherent. Without thinking, he slid one arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you effortlessly into his strong arms.

You mumbled something again, your head lolling against his shoulder. Which caused him to freeze for a moment, waiting to see if you’d wake up. But you didn’t. He carried you to the bed and laid you down gently, pulling the blanket over you.

As he turned to step away, he felt your hand grab weakly at his shirt. “Don’t go,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. He froze in place, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked down at you, your eyes half-open and drowsy but locked onto his.

“You shouldn’t sleep in a chair,” you continued, your words slightly slurred. “And you… shouldn’t leave me like that.”

His breath caught. “I wasn’t going to leave,” he said softly.

You tugged at his shirt again, pulling him closer. He sank down onto the edge of the bed, his face hovering close to yours. “Why didn’t you kiss me earlier?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The question hung in the air, heavy and electrified. Ekko’s eyes widened, his cheeks flushing a deep red. “What?”

“When you had the chance,” you mumbled, your voice fading as sleep pulled at you again. “You looked like you wanted to, but you didn’t. Why?”

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. The proximity, the softness of your voice and the vulnerability in your question. It was almost too much to handle. He didn’t know how to answer. Hell, he didn’t even know if he could answer it.

“You were exhausted,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t think it was the right time.”

You hummed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re so stubborn,” you whispered, your eyes drifting shut.

He exhaled shakily, his heart continued its rapid pace as he watched you fall back into sleep. For a moment, he just sat there, his gaze tracing the outline of your beautiful face. He wanted to kiss you. God, he wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt. But he wouldn’t. Not yet. Not like this.

Instead, he stood and grabbed the chair, dragging it closer to the bed. He sat down and rested his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing, to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him. He stayed there until the drowsiness claimed him too.

You woke to the warmth of sunlight streaming through the cracks in the wooden walls, a golden glow bathing the room. It was already late, half the day gone, by the looks of it. You woke up to the warmth of the sun shining through the cracks on the wooden walls. It bathed the room. You stretched lazily under the blanket, the aches in your body from the past few days reduced to a dull throb. Turning your head, you saw Ekko. Who was still slumped in the chair beside the bed, asleep.

Your brow furrowed as you watched him. His head rested awkwardly on one hand, his legs stretched out, his shoulders slightly hunched. How could he sleep like that? He must’ve spent the entire night sitting there just to keep an eye on you.

How can he sacrifice his comfort like this?

You studied him, taking in the faint lines of exhaustion etched into his features. He looked so tired, so worn down. Ekko carried so much on his shoulders. The Firelights, the fight for Zaun’s freedom, the safety of the kids who looked up to him. And not to mention you as well. It wasn’t fair, you thought. He gave so much of himself and rarely took a moment for his own peace.

You slid out of bed quietly, wincing at the soreness in your muscles, and approached him. Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him awake. “Ekko,” you said softly.

He stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering open, and then he bolted upright, instinctively swatting your hand away. His palm struck yours with more force than he intended, making you hiss at the sting.

“Shit,” he muttered, sitting up fully now, his face a mixture of alarm and regret. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, shaking your hand out with a small wince. “It happens.”

He ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily. “I shouldn’t have—”

“You shouldn’t have spent the whole night sleeping in a chair,” you cut in, your tone playful but firm. “Are you crazy? You’ll wreck your back.”

He shrugged, his lips twitching into a faint, sheepish smile. “It’s not the first time.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” you said, crossing your arms.

He gave you a tired chuckle, leaning back in the chair. “I’ll survive. I’ve been through worse.”

But that wasn’t enough for you. Watching him now, the weariness in his eyes even as he tried to act like everything was fine. An idea sparked in your mind, one that you knew he’d hate at first. But it was for his own good.

You grinned, your excitement bubbling over as you clapped your hands together. “I have a surprise for you!”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. “A surprise?”

“Yep!” you said, bouncing on your heels, your eyes alight with mischief. “But I’m not telling you what it is. You’ll just have to trust me.”

His skepticism deepened. “That sounds like a bad idea.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, leaning down slightly to meet his gaze. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

He gave you a flat look. “I think I left it behind when I became the leader of the Firelights.”

You pouted dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “That’s tragic. Guess I’ll have to help you find it again.”

Ekko shook his head, laughing softly despite himself. “You sure are something alright”

“Yep!” you chirped, grabbing his hand and tugging him to his feet. “Now, come on.”

He resisted, planting his feet firmly. “Wait. I have things to do. The kids—”

“They’ll survive without you for a few hours,” you said, cutting him off with a pointed look. “You need this, Ekko. Trust me.” He opened his mouth to argue, but the determination in your eyes stopped him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But you’d better not get me killed.”

You grinned triumphantly, grabbing a scarf from the nearby table. “Oh, and one more thing.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”

You stepped closer, holding up the scarf. “You’re getting blindfolded.”

“Nope,” he said immediately, crossing his arms.

“Yep,” you countered, your grin widening. “It’s part of the surprise.”

“I’m not letting you blindfold me,” he said firmly.

“Aw, are you scared?” you teased, leaning in closer.

His jaw tightened, and you could tell he was trying not to rise to the bait. “I’m not scared. I just don’t like surprises.”

“Well, too bad,” you said, wrapping the scarf around his eyes before he could stop you. He grumbled under his breath, but you could see the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re lucky I’m weak for you,” he muttered, his voice low and resigned. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you quickly brushed it off, tightening the knot of the blindfold. “You won’t regret this. Promise.”

He sighed dramatically. “I already regret it.”

You laughed, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the door. “Come on, leader of the Firelights. Let me lead you away to freedom.”

He followed reluctantly, grumbling the whole way, but you could feel the tension in his hand slowly easing as he let himself trust you. And deep down, you knew that despite his protests, he didn’t truly mind.

Ekko groaned softly as you guided him along yet another bend in the trail. The blindfold tied snugly around his head meant he couldn’t see where he was stepping, which made the journey feel even longer. His feet ached from the uneven terrain, and he couldn’t tell how far you’d dragged him from the hideout. “How much longer?” he asked, a playful but weary edge in his voice. “I’m pretty sure I’ve walked enough to circle Zaun twice by now.”

You laughed softly, your tone teasing. “Not much farther. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

He scoffed but didn’t pull away from your guiding hand. “You said that an hour ago.”

“Well, this time, I mean it!” you chirped, your excitement palpable. “And quit complaining. You’re a leader, remember? A little hike shouldn’t break you.”

Ekko grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. He trusted you, blindfold and all. Still, his curiosity was killing him. The journey had been filled with faint sounds of nature, quite the opposite to the chaos of Zaun. The air was fresher here, the scent of greenery blending with faintly damp earth. Birds chirped somewhere above, and there was an unfamiliar stillness that made him uneasy in its serenity.

Finally, the sound of running water reached his ears. It was gentle but distinct, the rhythmic splash growing louder as you led him forward.

“Is that a waterfall?” Ekko questioned as he looked around blindfolded, listening with his ears.

“Nope,” you said cheekily, your grin audible in your tone.

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

The moment his boots scuffed against flat, smooth rock, you stopped. You squeezed his hand and stepped in front of him, your fingers brushing against the scarf as you untied the blindfold. “Okay, are you ready?” you asked, your voice playful.

“Depends,” he shot back. “Am I about to fall into a pit of snakes or something?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just hold still.” With a dramatic flourish, you pulled the blindfold away. “Ta-da!”

Ekko blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light. The sight before him was breathtaking. The waterfall cascaded gently down smooth stone, its waters pooling into a crystal-clear basin surrounded by moss-covered rocks. The greenery around it was lush, vibrant, and untouched, with delicate vines draping over the edges of the falls like curtains. Shafts of sunlight streamed through gaps in the canopy, casting a golden glow over the scene. It felt like another world. Like something out of a dream. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just taking it all in.

“Well?” you asked, bouncing slightly on your heels. “Do you like it?”

“It’s… something,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. His gaze lingered on the water, the way it shimmered in the sunlight. “I didn’t know there were places like this between Piltover and Zaun.”

You smiled, feeling proud of yourself. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

He turned to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll give you that. But…” His expression shifted, concern creeping in. “Should I really be out here? The hideout—”

You cut him off, your tone firm but not unkind. “Ekko.”

He paused, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I’m serious,” you continued, your voice softening. “If you really feel like you need to go back, you can. I won’t stop you.” You hesitated, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “I mean… I’ll understand.”

He studied your face, noticing the way your eyes darted away as if you were trying to hide how much the thought bothered you. You were giving him a choice, but it was clear how much you didn’t want him to leave.

Ekko let out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re really bad at hiding what you’re feeling, you know that?”

You glanced up at him, startled. “Who, me?”

“Yes you. But relax,” he said, his tone gentle. “I’ll stay.”

Your eyes lit up, and before he could say anything else, you were practically jumping in place, your joy spilling over. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small chuckle, watching you with amusement. “Don’t make me regret it.”

You grinned, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the water. “You won’t. I promise.”

For the next two hours, the two of you wandered the area, exploring the hidden beauty of the place. The tension from earlier melted away, replaced by a comfortable ease as you talked and laughed together.

Ekko, ever curious, peppered you with questions about your life topside. “So, what’s it like being a noble?” he asked, kicking a stray pebble along the path. “I’m guessing it’s all fancy parties and expensive clothes?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not quite. Sure, there’s all the glamour, but it’s not as fun as it sounds.”

“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

You sighed, nudging a rock with the tip of your boot. “My parents had this… idea of what the perfect daughter should be. Polished, obedient, always smiling. I never really fit the mold.”

Ekko tilted his head, studying you. “Doesn’t sound like you.”

“Exactly,” you said with a wry smile. “I was always too stubborn, too opinionated. They wanted me to follow their rules, and I wanted to make my own.”

“Sounds familiar,” he said, a hint of understanding in his voice.

You glanced at him, curiosity sparking. “What about you? Ever feel like people expect too much from you?”

He let out a short laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets. “All the time. Being the leader, people look to me for answers. For direction. It’s… a lot.”

You nodded, your heart aching for him. “And yet you never take a break.”

“Someone has to keep things running,” he said simply.

You stopped walking, turning to face him. “And what happens when you burn out? What then?”

He opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, your words sinking in.

“See that’s what this is about,” you said gently. “You need to take care of yourself, too, Ekko. Not just everyone else.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he gave a small nod, the vulnerability in his expression making your chest tighten.

Soon the peace of the waterfall was shattered by the faint sound of voices approaching. Ekko froze, his head snapping toward the direction of the noise. You followed his gaze, your heart sinking as the muffled conversation grew clearer. It wasn’t just random passersby. The tone was too low and suspicious.

“Get down,” Ekko whispered urgently, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the water.

“Ow, hey-!” you hissed back, but before you could argue, he tugged you forward.

The two of you splashed quietly into the cool water, wading toward a large rock near the waterfall’s edge. Its size provided enough cover to hide you both, but your movements felt clumsy and loud in the stillness of the moment. Every splash made your heart race, and every breath felt too loud.

You crouched low, gripping the edge of the rock as you peered out cautiously. The voices were clearer now, distinctly rough and laced with malice.

“… shipments are in place. Should be an easy job if everyone keeps quiet,” one of the men said, his voice gruff.

“Easy? You think dealing with Piltover’s dogs is ever easy?” another sneered.

“Relax. It’s all set up. By the time they realize what’s happening, we’ll already be gone,” the first man replied with a dismissive chuckle.

Your ears were ringing, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making it hard to focus. Your breathing quickened, and the world around you felt distant, the voices blending into an indistinct hum. “Hey,” Ekko spoke quietly beside you, nudging your arm. But you didn’t respond, your mind spinning.

“Hey!” he whispered again, more insistent this time. He leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. Finally, his voice broke through the fog in your mind. You turned your head slightly, meeting his sharp gaze. Before you could say anything, his hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you.

“Don’t-” he mouthed, his tone firm but his touch surprisingly gentle. His eyes were steady, reassuring, even as they flicked toward the Chem-Barons’ direction.

You nodded, your breathing still uneven but quieter now. His hand lingered for a second longer before he slowly pulled it away, his fingers brushing against your skin. The tension between you was palpable. The closeness and adrenaline, it all made the space between you feel charged with something. You were about to whisper something when the sound of boots crunching against the rocky terrain snapped your focus back.

“Keep it moving,” one of the voices barked. “We’re wasting time.”

The group of men moved on, their voices fading into the distance. Only when the silence stretched did Ekko exhale, his shoulders finally relaxing. He peeked cautiously around the rock, ensuring they were truly gone before turning back to you.

“We’re clear,” he whispered, though his voice carried an edge of lingering tension.

You nodded, still crouched behind the rock, your limbs stiff from staying still for so long. Ekko moved toward the water’s edge and helped you climb back onto the bank. You followed his lead, water dripping from your clothes and pooling at your feet as you tried to steady your racing heart.

“Chem-Barons,” he muttered, more to himself than you. He looked toward the direction the men had gone, his expression hardening. “They’re up to something. And if they’re this close, it’s bad news.”

You wrung out your sleeves, watching him warily. “Do you think they saw us?”

“No,” he said firmly, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Still… we need to get back.”The urgency in his voice left no room for argument, and you agreed without hesitation.

The journey back to the hideout was tense. Ekko moved swiftly, his steps purposeful and his gaze darting toward every sound in the dense trees. You struggled to keep up, your thoughts spiraling as your footsteps lagged behind his.

What if the Chem-Barons had seen you? What if they followed you back? Your chest tightened as the weight of your continuous overthinking pressed down on you. You replayed the encounter in your mind, picking apart every detail. Had you been too loud? Too slow? What if something went wrong because of you?

“Keep up,” Ekko called over his shoulder, his voice low but urgent.

You blinked, realizing how far behind you’d fallen. Quickening your pace, you forced yourself to focus on his figure ahead of you, his steady movements grounding you in the moment.

When you finally reached the hideout, the familiar sounds of laughter and the hum of activity greeted you. The Firelights’ sanctuary seemed untouched, the chaos of the outside world unable to penetrate its walls. Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Ekko headed straight for Scar, who was leaning against a rusty table, tinkering with a small device.

“Everything okay?” Ekko asked, his tone sharp.

Scar glanced up, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah. Quiet as usual. Why?”

Ekko hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced over his shoulder at you.

“Oh nothing, just checking.” he said finally, though the tension in his posture remained. Scar gave him a curious look but shrugged, returning to his work.

You lingered near the entrance, your damp clothes clinging to your skin as you scanned the area. Everything seemed normal, the kids laughing, people working on repairs, the occasional drone zipping by. But you couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in your chest.

Later that evening, you sat by yourself in one of the quieter corners of the hideout, staring blankly at the firelight lamp in front of you. Your mind was still spinning, your earlier overthinking creeping back in.

“You okay?” Ekko’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to find him standing nearby, his expression softer now.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, though the tightness in your voice betrayed you.

He frowned, stepping closer and crouching down so he was at eye level with you. “You’ve been quiet since we got back. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about what happened earlier. What if we were seen? What if they followed us? What if—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, his voice firm but kind. “Nothing happened. Everything is fine. The hideout is fine.” You nodded, but your shoulders remained tense.

Ekko sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Worrying until you exhaust yourself i see.”

“I just can’t help it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sat down beside you, close enough that his knee brushed against yours. “Look, I get it. It’s a lot to deal with. But we can’t let them get in our heads. That’s what they want—to make us paranoid, to make us slip up.”

You looked at him, his calm determination grounding you once more. “I just don’t want to fuck things over for the millionth time.”

“You won’t,” he said simply, his confidence in you unwavering. For a moment, the tension between you eased, and you allowed yourself to breathe.

The night stretched on, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence. When Ekko finally stood, he stretched and yawned, his usual energy dimmed by the day’s events.

“Well, I’m gonna check on a few things,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

You joking said, raised an eyebrow. “Here you go again, always busy.”

He smirked, his usual charm peeking through. “Says the person who can’t stop worrying.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. As he walked away, you found yourself watching him, your chest tightening with admiration. You couldn’t quite name why. The hideout was quiet now, most of its inhabitants having turned in for the night. You eventually made your way to your small corner of the space, lying down on your bed and staring up at the ceiling.

But sleep didn’t come easily. Your mind kept drifting back to Ekko. The way he had looked at you by the waterfall, the way his hand had lingered on your arm when he pulled you out of the water, the way he had stayed by your side despite everything. Ekko, it’s always him. He always even if you tried to deny it, has an affect on you. You sighed, closing your eyes and willing your racing thoughts to quiet.

A wind of cool night air hit you as you slipped out of the hideout. The faint scent of distant rain mixing with the scent of metal and smoke that always lingered in the air of Zaun. Ekko had been out helping with a situation that had gotten out of hand. It had something to do with one of the Firelights getting into trouble, as usual. He hadn’t been there to protest when you quietly slipped out of the hideout, and part of you was relieved. You needed to clear your head, to have a moment of peace where you didn’t have to think about the danger you constantly felt closing in around you. It slowly suffocating you. Unbearable.

You had heard rumors, of course. Whispers and murmurs of people coming after you because of who you were, because of your connection to the topside. They had no idea who you were, only what they thought you were. You couldn’t allow them to find out. But tonight, you weren’t thinking about that. You were thinking about how to live in the moment, even if it was fleeting.

The Last Drop was not your first choice, but it was the closest. The faint buzz of people laughing, drinking, and shouting hit your ears as you stepped inside. Your heart raced slightly, but you pushed it down. You’d taken precautions, after all. The cloak you wore concealed the colors of your family, the opulence that could mark you a target from a mile away. With your hood low, you blended in with the crowd, keeping your gaze focused on the bar, where the noise was loud enough to drown out any attention.

“Drink?” the barkeep asked, raising an eyebrow at you, the flickering light of the bar casting long shadows across his face.

“Something strong,” you replied, trying to sound casual, though your nerves were anything but.

A quick, hard drink was what you needed. You knew the risks of coming here. This wasn’t the safest place in Zaun, but it was the only place that wouldn’t ask questions about who you were. The clinking of glass and the murmur of conversation surrounded you, a blend of voices that blurred into one singular buzz in your head.

You let your gaze wander as you took your first sip. The bitter warmth of the alcohol spread through your throat, giving you a momentary sense of relief, but it didn’t last. Your eyes flicked to the edges of the bar, noticing the way people moved. There was a tension in the air, something off, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Your fingers tightened around the glass as the sensation of being watched crept down your spine.

Before you could dismiss the feeling, something sharp pricked your neck. You froze, the sensation like a needle pushing into your skin. A wave of dizziness hit you instantly, disorienting and deep. You jerked your hand to your neck, but there was nothing to see. No blood, no sign of injury. Just a strange, heavy heat creeping through your veins, seeping into your bloodstream, clouding your thoughts.

The world around you tilted. It was a slow shift at first, just a sense of things being slightly off, but soon it became overwhelming. The air felt thicker, the sounds louder, as though the entire bar was buzzing, vibrating against the space between you and them. Your chest tightened, and a cold sweat broke out across your skin. ‘No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not now.

Shimmer. You realized it too late. The telltale signs were unmistakable. That feeling where your body was being pulled apart, your thoughts slowly being smothered by a fog. You clenched your teeth, trying to fight it, trying to keep yourself from losing control.

“Hey, you okay?” a voice broke through the chaos in your mind. One of the patrons had noticed, a man with wild eyes and a drink in his hand. He was staring at you with concern, but you barely registered his words.

“I’m fine,” you said, though it came out more like a growl. You stood up quickly, the motion far too fast for your brain to follow. The room spun around you, the floor swaying beneath your feet like the deck of a ship caught in a storm. Your hands shot out to steady yourself against the bar, but it felt like everything was slipping away.

The bartender moved closer, his voice urgent. “You need to sit down. You’re not looking good.”

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t let them see you like this. You tried to move toward the door, but your legs wouldn’t obey. Each step was like wading through thick tar, the world warping around you. Your vision blurred, and before you knew it, you were on the floor, struggling to push yourself up, your limbs stiff and heavy.

“Help!” someone shouted, but the word sounded distant, muffled, as if coming from underwater.

You didn’t know what was happening to you anymore. The pain in your head started to intensify. No. Don’t lose control. But it was too late. The shimmer was already twisting your mind, and it wasn’t long before the voices began. They started quiet, like whispers in the back of your head, but soon they became clear.

Someone spoke your name. Your father’s voice.

“You never lived up to my expectations, did you?” The accusation burned in your ears. “Always the disappointment.”

You wanted to scream at the voice to shut up, to make it go away, but all you could do was stand there, shaking, your hands gripping the counter as you tried to steady yourself.

“You think you can escape me? No one escapes me,” your father’s voice mocked. “No one escapes their blood.”

The voices overlapped. Shut up. You couldn’t make out the words. You only felt the anger, regret, and shame. You felt like you were drowning in it. The voices kept yelling, taunting you, until you couldn’t tell what was real anymore. You swung at the air, trying to bat them away, but there was nothing there.

Why don’t you listen? You never do what I ask, do you?

Another voice, it was your mother now, cold and distant. “You’re useless to me. Always have been.”

The pain was unbearable. Your head throbbed as you sank to your knees, clutching at your skull, your fingers digging into your scalp in a futile attempt to stop the onslaught of voices. Get out of my head!

You screamed, but it was a scream that only echoed inside your mind. Your body trembled, and you stumbled backward, falling into the chaos that surrounded you.

“Someone get them out of here!” someone shouted, but it was like the words couldn’t break through the fog that had settled over your mind. You could hear them, feel them moving around you, but they were all far away. Then, another voice. This one was different. It was familiar.

“Hey, listen to me.” Ekko. His voice, clear and strong, cut through the chaos. You tried to focus on it, on him, but it was so hard. Your mind was a warzone. You gasped for air, your hands pressed against your chest, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of the shimmer. You looked around, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw him standing there, reaching out for you, but when you blinked, he was gone.

Your vision darkened, the last remnants of the shimmer clouding everything. You couldn’t stand anymore. You collapsed against the ground, your breath ragged as the world spun out of control.

“Ekko…” you whispered, but you weren’t sure if you said it out loud or if it was just another hallucination. The voices faded as everything went black.

part two soon!

taglist: @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights @chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct @celineandtulips @stuckinaoaktree @fxxvz @jadziulaa @luclue @1intrustivethoughts @finnsky666 @blkmystery @serena6728 @mvistl @kaedeprinz @alientee @ametheslime @turquoizxe @emforjin

banner: @anitalenia

[thesecondhandwoman]

(SPOILERS FOR ACT THREE)

HOLDING ON TO HER

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: It had been a few days after the fight that commenced between Noxus and Viktor’s creations, and only a few days after everyone had experienced the Arcane. Sevika was still traumatized from the experience, and desperately needed comfort. Specifically your comfort.

Sevika could feel the weight of the world bearing down on her. The words she told herself every day, the ones she used to push through the chaos of life, weren’t working anymore. Her mind was a battlefield, a storm of memories that she couldn’t fight off—memories of that moment when the arcane had taken over, when she had lost control of her own body, and when she felt her very soul pulled in every direction by something greater than herself.

The recent battle had left scars on her mind, ones that she couldn’t shake no matter how much time passed. The way her limbs had moved of their own accord, the feeling of her body betraying her, as if she were nothing more than a vessel for something dark and otherworldly. It made her sick to her stomach. Her thoughts were constantly tangled with those memories. She couldn’t stop replaying the way the arcane had twisted her body, forced her to fight against her will, made her want to fight against her own nature. But it hadn’t just been the physical invasion. The worst part was the helplessness—the suffocating sensation of being trapped in her own skin, of not being able to escape the dark, searing touch that had commanded her every move.

And now, she was here. Alone in their shared apartment in Zaun, the light from the flickering street lamps casting long shadows across the room. The smell of iron, old grease, and gunpowder that clung to her skin was still there, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, her body ached from the fight, but it was her mind that was the true battlefront. She hadn’t even been able to fully comprehend what happened when those things—Viktor’s disgusting creations—had touched her, her mind still fragmented from the sheer chaos.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, as though she could hold all the parts of her that were broken into one piece. Every breath was a reminder of the weight she carried inside, a weight that had only grown heavier since the fight that commenced only a few days ago.

“Sevika?” A soft voice broke through the fog in her mind.

You stood in the doorway, your figure framed by the dim glow of the hallway light. Your eyes were soft with concern, and Sevika could see the way you moved cautiously toward her, not wanting to disturb her but knowing that she needed you. She felt a pang in her chest at the sight of you. You had always been a source of comfort for her, even before everything with Viktor. But now, in this moment of darkness, she felt undeserving of your kindness, your warmth.

You knelt down in front of her, gently taking her hands into your own. The touch was grounding, a lifeline thrown to her in a sea of uncertainty. You didn’t speak at first. You didn’t need to. The silence was heavy, but in it, you offered her the thing she needed most—presence. Your unwavering presence.

“I’m sorry,” Sevika whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking as she squeezed your hands tightly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t get rid of it. The memories. The way it felt to not be in control. The way they… they touched me, forced me to be something I’m not.”

You shook your head, your thumbs gently brushing the backs of her hands. “You don’t have to apologize, Sevika. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

She closed her eyes, trying to push the images away, but they flooded back in an instant. The way her body had been jerked and twisted by forces beyond her understanding. The gnawing feeling that she wasn’t her own person anymore, that she wasn’t Sevika—that she was just an extension of the arcane, a puppet on invisible strings. And when they had tried to make her feel normal, to want to be free, it had felt like a mockery.

“I don’t want to feel like this,” Sevika choked out, her voice barely audible. “I hate it. I hate feeling weak. I’ve never felt weaker in my life. They… they made me want things I can’t have, things I’m not supposed to have. I didn’t even know how to fight it, and even with them gone, they still feel like they are there.”

You leaned forward, your forehead gently pressing against hers, and for a moment, everything in the room felt still. The pain in her chest didn’t disappear, but your warmth was a soothing balm. You didn’t say anything for a long time, just holding her in the silence, letting her feel you there.

She needed you, more than she ever had before, but she didn’t know how to ask for it.

“I know,” you whispered softly, your fingers now caressing her cheek with the gentleness only you could offer. “I know, Sev. I’ve been there. I felt it too… I know what it’s like when the arcane takes control. When it feels like you’re losing yourself. But you’re not weak. Not to me. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Her breath hitched at your words, and she could feel the pressure in her chest lift ever so slightly. She wanted to argue, to tell you that you didn’t understand, that she didn’t deserve to be held, to be comforted. But something in the way you looked at her—something in the warmth of your hands on her skin—stopped her.

Your thumb brushed over the tear that had fallen down her cheek, your gaze never wavering from hers. “You’re not alone, Sevika. I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

She felt herself break, the dam she had carefully built over the years cracking open. The weight of everything—the trauma, the guilt, the terror—came flooding out in hot, silent tears. You didn’t let go of her hands, didn’t pull away. You stayed with her as she cried, your embrace comforting and steadfast.

As the sobs began to wrack her body, you wrapped your arms around her tightly, pressing her face into the crook of your neck. “It’s okay to feel like this, Sevika. It’s okay to need someone, especially now. You don’t have to be the strong one all the time.”

The way your arms enveloped her, the way you kissed her forehead softly, telling her that she was safe with you, slowly started to ease the storm inside her heart.

“I was so scared, Y/N,” Sevika whispered, her voice muffled against your skin. “I was so scared of what they were trying to make. Of what they made me feel. I don’t know how to fix myself after all of that.”

You pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, wiping away the last remnants of her tears. “You’re not broken, Sev. You’re healing. And we’ll heal together. One step at a time.”

And with that promise, she believed you. For the first time in what felt like forever, Sevika let herself lean into the love and safety you offered her. The trauma of the arcane wouldn’t disappear overnight, but she knew, deep down, that with you by her side, she didn’t have to face it alone.

You kissed her gently, a soft press of your lips to hers that spoke more than words ever could. It was a promise, a reassurance, that no matter what darkness she faced, she’d never have to fight it alone.

Sevika finally let herself rest in your arms, the world outside no longer so cold. She was safe here. With you.

[thequeenofneverland1]

Hwang In-ho/Frontman////The Frontman's Secret

Anonymous request: Hi can you write a imagine for Hwang In-ho thanks

Warnings: Violence, Deaths, Trauma, Betrayal, Paranoia, Pregnancy, Manipulation, Emotional Distress and spoiler alert 🚨 

You and the players are gathered around sitting down, sharing a rare moment of calm amid the chaos. The tension of survival has made every bite of food feel like a luxury. Laughter and hushed conversations weave through the air, but you’re mostly focused on Jung-bae. You’ve always respected him for his calm demeanor and resourcefulness, so when he leans in slightly, his tone quieter and more serious, your attention shifts entirely to him.

“Y/n,” Jung-bae begins, his voice soft but deliberate, his eyes carrying a weight that immediately makes your chest tighten. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately. You remind me of my own daughter. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ve started seeing you as one, too. And because of that, I feel like I need to tell you something. About Young-il.”

At the mention of Young-il, your boyfriend, your heart skips a beat. The edges of your vision seem to blur as you focus entirely on Jung-bae’s expression. There’s something there hesitation, fear maybe, but mostly guilt. He lowers his voice even more, glancing around to ensure no one else is listening.

“You remember the Mingle game, right? When it came down to two players in each room?”

You nod, your mind racing as you recall the chaos of that day. The screams, the betrayals, the cold calculation it took to survive.

“Well…” Jung-bae exhales sharply, like he’s trying to summon the courage to say the words. “Me and him..Me and Young-il. we ended up in the same room. There was already another player in there when we got there, and…”

He falters, looking at you with an expression that’s equal parts regret and urgency. “Y/n, he—”

“Jung-bae,” a firm, familiar voice interrupts. You turn to see Young-il standing there, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowed in that way that sends a chill down your spine. He’s always had a knack for commanding attention, but there’s something different about him now something darker.

“Am I interrupting something?” Young-il’s voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, like he knows exactly what Jung-bae was about to say. His gaze shifts between the two of you, lingering on Jung-bae just a little too long.

Jung-bae straightens, his expression carefully neutral. “No, we were just—”

“I don’t think Y/n needs to hear any unnecessary stories,” Young-il cuts him off, his tone final. He moves closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. The gesture feels possessive rather than protective, and it takes everything in you not to recoil.

You glance back at Jung-bae, whose jaw is clenched tight, his eyes darting between you and Young-il. There’s something he wants to say, you can see it in the way his lips part slightly, but he doesn’t. The room feels suffocating now, the earlier camaraderie all but gone.

“I think we should all get some rest,” Young-il says, his voice softer now, directed at you. “It’s been a long day.”

You nod slowly, even as unease twists in your stomach. Young-il hand lingers on your shoulder a moment too long before he turns and walks away.

As he disappears into the shadows, you look back at Jung-bae. He’s still sitting there, his eyes filled with frustration and a silent apology. You don’t know what he was going to say about Young-il, but now, more than ever, you feel like you need to find out.

Later that night, you find yourself sitting on one of the worn-out beds with Young-il. The dim light overhead casts long shadows across the room, and the silence is heavy, broken only by the faint sounds of other players shifting or murmuring in their sleep.

He sits next to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his presence, but his body language is off. His arms are crossed loosely, and his gaze is distant, staring at a spot on the floor as though it holds some deep secret.

You study him for a moment, your mind replaying Jung-bae’s unfinished words over and over again. You’ve tried to push it aside, tried to convince yourself that it was nothing, but the unease refuses to leave you. Finally, you can’t hold back any longer.

“Young-il,” you begin softly, your voice cutting through the quiet. He turns his head slightly, looking at you with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What is it?” he asks, his tone calm and gentle, but there’s something underneath it a tension you can’t ignore.

You hesitate, feeling a lump form in your throat, but you push through it. “Did… did something happen in that room? During the Mingle game?”

The question hangs in the air like a heavy cloud. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his face unreadable. Then, he exhales a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Y/n, where is this coming from?” he asks, turning his body slightly to face you. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

You look down at your hands, twisting them nervously in your lap. “Jung-bae said something earlier. He started to tell me about what happened when you two were in the same room, but…” You glance up at him, searching his face for any sign of the truth. “He didn’t get to finish.”

Young-il leans back slightly, his expression softening, but his eyes remain sharp. “Jung-bae talks too much,” he says lightly, his tone laced with an edge of annoyance. “Nothing happened in that room, Y/n. You know how these games are people are always looking for someone to blame, always trying to stir up doubts.”

“But—”

“Y/n,” he interrupts, reaching out to take your hands in his. His grip is firm but not unkind, and his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes it hard to look away. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I care about you more than anything. You know that, right?”

You nod slowly, but the knot in your stomach only tightens. His words should comfort you, but instead, they feel rehearsed, like he’s trying too hard to convince you.

“I just… I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” you say quietly, your voice trembling slightly.

He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “There’s nothing to tell,” he whispers. “I promise you.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe him. You want to believe him. But as you sit there, his hands holding yours, the shadows in the room seem to grow darker, and the doubt in your heart refuses to fade.

The following morning, the air is heavy with unspoken tension as the group prepares for whatever the next challenge might bring. Everyone moves with a quiet urgency, the weight of the games pressing down on them. Jung-bae sits on the floor near Gi-hun, pretending to sharpen a makeshift tool. His movements are slow, deliberate, as if he’s buying himself time to gather his thoughts.

Gi-hun notices his demeanor and frowns slightly. “You’ve been quiet this morning,” he remarks, sitting down beside Jung-bae. “Something on your mind?”

Jung-bae doesn’t respond immediately. He keeps his focus on the tool in his hands, his expression distant. Finally, he exhales deeply and sets the tool aside, turning to face Gi-hun.

“Gi-hun,” Jung-bae begins, his tone unusually serious. “I need to ask you for a favor.”

Gi-hun’s brows furrow. “A favor? What kind of favor?”

Jung-bae leans in closer, lowering his voice so only Gi-hun can hear. “I want you to promise me something. If anything happens to me. if I don’t make it through this game. I need you to take care of Y/n. And not just her. everyone in our group. But especially Y/n.”

The words hit Gi-hun like a punch to the gut. He stares at Jung-bae, searching his face for an explanation. “What are you talking about? Why would you say that? Are you… are you planning something?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jung-bae says quickly, shaking his head. “I just… I need to know that she’ll be safe. That someone will look out for her.”

Gi-hun narrows his eyes, his suspicion growing. “Why are you talking like this, Jung-bae? You’re not making sense. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jung-bae insists, though the tension in his voice betrays him. He looks away, his jaw tightening. “I just… I’ve been thinking a lot about what it takes to survive here. The things we’ve had to do. The things we might have to do.”

Gi-hun crosses his arms, still unconvinced. “This isn’t like you. What’s really going on?”

Jung-bae hesitates, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. For a brief moment, it looks like he might say something more, but then he shakes his head again. “It’s nothing. Just… promise me, okay? If I’m not here, you’ll look after her.”

“Jung-bae…”Gi-hun begins, but the older man cuts him off.

“Promise me,” Jung-bae repeats, his voice firm, his eyes pleading.

Gi-hun sighs, the weight of the request settling heavily on his shoulders. “Alright,” he says reluctantly. “I promise. But you’re going to have to tell me what this is really about sooner or later.”

Jung-bae gives him a faint smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Gi-hun. That means a lot.”

As Gi-hun watches Jung-bae stand and walk away, his concern only deepens. There’s something Jung-bae isn’t telling him, something important. And though he doesn’t press the issue now, he makes a silent vow to find out what it is.

Later that day, you’re sitting with Young-ll in the dimly lit at the dormitory, trying to distract yourself from the weight of the competition. The two of you exchange light conversation, your laughter quiet but genuine small moments of humanity in a place that feels anything but human.

“You know,” Young-ll says, leaning back against the wall, “I was never much of a team player before all this. Guess this place has a way of forcing you to see people differently.”

You nod, resting your chin on your knees. “Yeah. It’s funny how survival makes you care about people you probably wouldn’t even notice outside of here.”

Young-ll chuckles softly, but his smile fades as his gaze shifts to something or someone behind you. You follow his line of sight and see Gi-hun approaching, his expression as serious as ever. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Y/n, Young-ll,” Gi-hun greets, sitting down next to you. He glances between the two of you before settling his gaze on you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Jung-bae’s been acting really weird lately.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Young-ll speaks first, his tone casual but with an edge of defensiveness. “He’s just nervous,” Young-ll says, shrugging. “The games are getting down to the wire, and everyone’s feeling the pressure. It’s normal.”

Gi-hun frowns, clearly not convinced. “It’s more than that. He’s been avoiding people, staying quiet, and the way he talks. it’s like he’s expecting something bad to happen. Like he’s preparing for it.”

Young-ll leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Can you blame him? These games mess with your head. Everyone’s scared, everyone’s paranoid. Jung-bae’s probably just dealing with it in his own way.”

You glance between the two men, sensing the tension in their voices. “Maybe we’re all just overthinking it,” you suggest cautiously, though you can’t ignore the knot of unease forming in your stomach.

Gi-hu looks at you, his brow furrowed. “Maybe. But if something’s going on, we need to know about it. We’re supposed to be a team, and if someone’s hiding something—”

“Gi-hun,” Young-ll interrupts, his tone firmer now. “Drop it, alright? Jung-bae’s fine. He’s been looking out for us since the beginning. Don’t start questioning him now just because he’s a little on edge.”

GI-hun opens his mouth to argue, but then he stops, exhaling sharply. “Fine,” he mutters, leaning back against the wall. “But I’m keeping an eye on him. Just in case.”

Young-ll shakes his head, giving you a quick glance and a reassuring smile. “He’s overthinking it,” he says softly, as if to put you at ease. “Jung-bae’s just nervous, like I said. No need to worry.”

But even as he says it, you can’t help but notice the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. It’s brief, barely noticeable, but it’s enough to make you wonder if Young-ll truly believes his own words or if he’s just trying to convince himself.

As Gi-hun stands, brushing off his knees and heading toward the rest of the group, you and Young-ll sit quietly, watching his retreating figure. His concern about Jung-bae lingers in your mind, intertwining with your own growing doubts. The atmosphere feels heavier than before, the unspoken questions filling the silence between you and Young-ll.

You glance over at him, studying his profile. His expression is calm, maybe too calm, as if he’s deliberately masking something. The way he dismissed Gi-hun concerns earlier had been convincing, but now, in the quiet, you wonder if there’s more to it.

“Young-ll,” you begin softly, breaking the silence. He turns his head slightly to look at you, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice casual, though his eyes betray a flicker of something guarded.

You hesitate for a moment, then press on. “Are you sure there’s nothing going on? Between you and Jung-bae, or… just in general? If there’s something you’re not telling me, I’d rather know.”

Young-ll’s expression hardens for a fraction of a second before he forces a smile, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re worrying too much, Y/n,” he says, his tone light but firm. “Jung-bae’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

You narrow your eyes at him, unwilling to let it drop. “Young-ll, please. I can tell when someone’s holding back. If there’s something I should know, just tell me. I can handle it.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze shifting past you as though he’s trying to find an escape. The silence stretches, heavy and uncertain, until he finally meets your eyes again. But instead of answering, he leans in without warning, his hand cupping the back of your neck as his lips press against yours.

The kiss is sudden, catching you completely off guard. Your heart pounds in your chest, and for a moment, the world seems to blur, the weight of the games and all your questions momentarily falling away. His touch is warm, his presence grounding, and yet there’s something desperate about the way he holds you. like he’s trying to distract you, to keep you from asking any more questions.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes search yours, his expression a mix of longing and something you can’t quite place fear, maybe, or regret.

“You don’t need to worry, Y/n,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just trust me.”

But as he pulls away completely, the doubt in your chest only deepens. His kiss may have silenced your questions for the moment, but it hasn’t erased them. If anything, it’s only made you more certain that Young-ll is hiding something. And you’re determined to find out what it is.

The tension in the air is palpable as you and Young-ll sit together in the dimly lit corner of the room, the quiet hum of the environment only accentuating the weight of the conversation unfolding between you two. The games have worn on you both, the stakes getting higher with every challenge, and despite the exhaustion weighing on your shoulders, there’s a shared silence that speaks volumes.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you ask the question that’s been gnawing at you. “What do you think happens if we actually make it out of here? If we survive and manage to get out of this hellhole… what happens then? Do you think we’ll be able to go back to some kind of normal life?”

Young-ll shifts next to you, his expression thoughtful. His eyes seem far away, almost like he’s not truly seeing you as he focuses on something in the distance. For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, finally, he speaks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Part of me wants to believe we could go back to normal, that we could forget this place and pretend like none of it ever happened. But I think we both know it’s impossible. After everything we’ve been through, after the choices we’ve made, nothing can ever be the same again.”

You nod slowly, feeling the truth in his words. The games, the violence, the way everyone around you has changed. it’s left its mark. Even if you made it out alive, you wonder if you could ever truly find peace again.

“Yeah,” you murmur, looking at him, your voice tinged with uncertainty. “But even if everything’s different, I don’t want this to be the end of it. I don’t want this to be the last chapter. I want to rebuild something… whatever that might look like. After all this, I just want to try to find some kind of peace.”

Young-ll turns to you, his eyes softer now, more intense, and there’s a kind of vulnerability in them that you haven’t seen before. His gaze locks with yours, and suddenly, everything feels a little too close, too personal.

“You’re not hearing me, Y/n,” he says, his voice deep and firm, the words more urgent than before. “I don’t care about ‘normal.’ I don’t care about rebuilding a life that doesn’t make sense anymore. What I care about… is you. No matter what happens, no matter where this game leads us, no matter what we face once we get out of here, I need you to promise me something.”

Your breath catches at his intensity. Something in his words feels different, like there’s more hidden beneath the surface than he’s letting on. The air between you thickens, and you feel the weight of the moment press against your chest.

“What is it?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

Young-ll leans in just a little closer, his hand reaching for yours, fingers brushing softly against your skin. His eyes are full of something you can’t quite place something you don’t want to understand just yet.

“Promise me,” he says quietly, his voice barely a whisper, “that you’ll be with me. No matter what happens, wherever I go, I need you by my side. Promise me you’ll stay with me, Y/n.”

The sincerity in his voice hits you hard, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades into the background. His plea feels genuine, raw, and you find yourself drawn to him in a way that almost scares you. He’s asking for more than just companionship; he’s asking for loyalty, for a bond that might be impossible to break.

“I promise,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be with you. No matter what happens.”

What you don’t know, what he hasn’t told you, is that his request is not just a plea for partnership. It’s a plea for something darker, something far beyond the world you thought you understood. Young-ll isn’t just asking you to stay with him in the aftermath of the games. He’s asking you to join him in something much more dangerous something he’s already deeply entrenched in.

In the shadows of this twisted game, Young-ll is not just a player. He is the frontman the key figure in the organization behind the games. His role isn’t just to survive; it’s to control, to lead, to maintain the structure of the very system you’ve been fighting against. But this isn’t what he wants to offer you.

Deep down, he does care for you. Despite everything, despite the ruthless nature of his role, he loves you in a way he never thought he could love anyone. He’s seen the horrors of the game, the choices it’s forced him to make, but when it comes to you, he’s different. He wants to pull you into his world, but not just because it’s all he knows. He wants to protect you, to make you part of his life, part of the future he’s building one that, for better or worse, will never be ordinary again.

As you sit there, your hand in his, promising to stand by his side, he feels a surge of hope mixed with a deep sense of regret. The life he’s built, the world he’s a part of, isn’t one you can easily escape. But he’s determined to bring you into it, hoping against hope that love can somehow change things.

And as the promise hangs between you two, neither of you knows what the future holds, but for the first time in a long while, you both dare to believe that, together, you might just survive whatever comes next.

The night has grown quieter, the dim light casting long shadows across the room as you and Young-ll finally rejoin the rest of the group. You both had stepped away earlier to talk, the weight of the conversation still heavy on your shoulders, but now, you find yourself swept back into the rhythm of the group. Despite everything that’s happened the tension, the games, the unknown future there’s a strange comfort in being surrounded by familiar faces, even if only for a moment.

As you sit down, the laughter of your friends fills the air, the conversation shifting to lighter topics, even though the uncertainty of the situation looms in the background. Hyun-ju, ever the bubbly one, leans forward, a teasing smile on her face as she looks from you to Young-ll.

“So,” she says, her voice playful yet genuine. “When are you two getting married?” Her words hang in the air, and for a second, it feels like the room goes quiet, all eyes now on you and Young-ll.

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden question, and Young-ll chuckles lightly, looking a little more amused than you expected. “Marriage?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “We’re not even out of here yet. Isn’t it a little early to be talking about that?”

Hyun-ju laughs, clearly not taking the question too seriously. “I mean, if you two end up making it out of here alive, it seems like a good reason to celebrate, right? Maybe it’s better to plan ahead in case we don’t make it. If you’re going to get married, though, you should invite everyone here. You can’t leave us out of it!”

The suggestion is lighthearted, almost playful, but there’s something in the way she says it that makes the conversation feel more real than it should. It’s as though, for just a moment, the horrors of the games and the looming danger that surrounds you all are forgotten in favor of something that resembles normalcy something that feels far away from this nightmarish reality.

You glance at Young-ll, unsure of how to respond, but before you can find your words, Jung-bae, who has been sitting quietly nearby, suddenly coughs loudly. His eyes flicker nervously toward the floor as he shifts uncomfortably on floor, as though the conversation had caught him off guard.

The atmosphere shifts almost imperceptibly, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. You can sense that something is off with Jung-bae, his unease palpable. His gaze lingers on the group for a moment longer than necessary, his hand gripping the edge of the table in a way that suggests he’s trying to stay calm, but there’s a tension in his posture.

Hyun-ju, unaware of the sudden shift in energy, continues to smile, waiting for a response, but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to Jung-bae’s discomfort. He hasn’t spoken much since you and Young-ll returned, and you can’t help but wonder if his reaction is tied to something deeper.

You glance back at Jung-bae, your mind racing as you recall his earlier words. He had tried to warn you about something involving Young-ll something that happened in that room but he never finished the conversation. He had been interrupted by Young-il, and you still haven’t gotten the full story. The anxiety building in his chest now seems to speak volumes.

The room, which had been filled with lighthearted chatter only moments before, suddenly feels heavy. The playful banter around marriage, which was supposed to lift your spirits, only makes everything seem more fragile more uncertain. Jung-bae’s cough had broken the moment, but it also revealed the thinly veiled tension between the group, the underlying secrets that have yet to come to light.

You exchange a glance with Young-ll, who seems unfazed by the playful teasing, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. his expression still relaxed, but you sense that, like you, he knows something isn’t quite right.

Hyun-ju, still waiting for an answer, leans forward, eyes glinting with curiosity. “Come on, you two. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. You could be the first to escape and get married. Maybe we could have a big celebration once we’re all out of here if you both want that, of course.”

The room goes quiet again as her words linger in the air. The awkwardness thickens, and you wonder if the playful remark has touched on something deeper that no one is ready to talk about. Jung-bae’s fidgeting only amplifies your suspicion. Something is clearly bothering him, but he doesn’t seem ready to share.

You turn your attention back to Young-ll, who’s still sitting beside you, a small, thoughtful smile playing at the edges of his lips. His calm demeanor is a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts in your head. But as you meet his gaze, you wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on if he’s hiding something from the group, something that ties back to Jung-bae’s strange behavior.

But before you can say anything more, Gi-hun, who’s been silent until now, clears his throat, looking at Jung-bae with a concerned frown. “You okay, Jung-bae?” he asks. “You’re looking a little off tonight. Did something happen?”

Jung-bae freezes, his eyes darting around the group as though looking for an escape. His lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, he seems to hesitate before responding. But all he says is, “I’m fine. Just tired. I think we all need rest, that’s all.”

His words, though spoken with an air of finality, don’t seem to convince anyone. The tension is thick now, and though Hyun-ju tries to keep the mood light by continuing to joke about the hypothetical wedding, it’s clear that something deeper is at play something that none of you are ready to face.

As the conversation dies down, you sit back, quietly processing everything. The uncertainty of the future, the unease you feel from Jung-bae, and the unspoken tension between you and Young-ll. Despite the lightheartedness that’s returned to the group’s banter, you know that what’s truly happening beneath the surface is far more complicated, and it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out.

The room is filled with the low murmur of conversation as everyone eats, the exhaustion from the day’s events hanging in the air. You sit at the table with the rest of the group, the food almost tasteless, but a necessary distraction from the overwhelming weight of everything around you. The tension is still palpable, but for a moment, it feels like you can breathe, even if just for a while.

As you glance around the dormitory, your eyes settle on Jun-hee, who’s sitting quietly, her hand resting lightly on her stomach. Despite her exhaustion, she’s doing her best to eat, though it’s clear that her mind is elsewhere. You notice the untouched milk beside her plate. She’s been struggling to keep enough food down lately, and you know it’s because of her pregnancy.

You nudge the carton of milk closer to her, your voice soft but insistent. “Here’s mine. You need it more than me.”

Jun-hee looks at the milk for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly as she shakes her head. “Thank you,” she says quietly, “but I don’t need it.”

You shake your head gently, not ready to let her off the hook so easily. “Just take it. You do need it,” you insist, your voice firm but caring. “You know, because of your baby. And besides, I can’t have white milk.”

Her eyes soften slightly at your words, but she hesitates, clearly reluctant. You can see the hesitation in her expression, but before she can respond, a familiar voice interrupts the moment, and you feel a slight shift in the air.

“I was about to give you my milk,” Young-ll says, his voice light with playful teasing. You look up, and there he is, standing by your side with a grin on his face and a carton of milk in his hand. “Now that I know that you can’t have white, what a coincidence we have. I can’t have white milk either.”

Your eyes widen at his words, a small laugh escaping your lips at the sheer coincidence. He’s always been one to bring humor to tense moments, and this is no exception. You shake your head, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile.

“You too?” you say with mock disbelief, eyeing him dramatically. “What is it with you and milk? I should’ve known, of course. You and I are basically the same person.”

Young-ll chuckles at your response, the playful glint in his eyes not entirely masking the underlying seriousness that’s always there. “What can I say?” he replies with a shrug. “Great minds think alike.”

You glance back at Jun-hee, who’s still holding the milk carton you offered her. The smile on your face fades for a moment as you turn your attention to her, noticing the concern in her eyes. The lighthearted exchange between you and Young-ll has offered some much-needed relief, but you know it doesn’t solve everything.

“You should take it, Jun-hee,” you say softly, your tone gentle but persistent. “We all need to stick together, especially now. We’re all in this mess together.”

She meets your gaze, her lips pressing into a tight line before she finally nods, taking the milk from your hands. “Thanks, Y/n,” she says quietly. “I’ll drink it.”

You watch her for a moment, relieved that she’s accepted, but you can’t shake the worry that continues to settle in the pit of your stomach. The games are far from over, and even in this small, quiet moment of connection, you all know that danger is never too far away.

As everyone continues to eat, you glance back at Young-ll, catching his eye. For a brief second, the world around you feels like it’s standing still, just the two of you in your own bubble. The fleeting moment of calm doesn’t last long, but for now, it’s enough.

The evening wears on, and the group begins to scatter after dinner, some retreating to their beds while others linger in small groups, talking in hushed tones. You find yourself standing by one of the walls, trying to collect your thoughts. The weight of everything happening around you the games, the tension, the unspoken secrets feels heavier than ever.

As you lean against the wall, lost in your thoughts, you hear footsteps approaching. You glance up to see Jung-bae walking toward you, his expression tense and hesitant. There’s something in his eyes, something heavy, like he’s carrying a burden too big to bear alone.

“Hey,” he says quietly, stopping a few feet away from you.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks around, as if checking to make sure no one else is nearby. His behavior is strange, almost paranoid, and it immediately puts you on edge.

“I need to talk to you,” he says finally, his voice low. “About something… important.”

You nod, stepping closer to him. “What is it?” you ask, your curiosity piqued. Jung-bae has been acting strangely for days now, and you’ve been waiting for him to open up. Maybe now you’ll finally get some answers.

Jung-bae hesitates, running a hand through his hair nervously. “It’s about Young-ll,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s something you need to know, something that happened during the Mingle game. I’ve been trying to tell you, but…”

His words trail off, and you can see the internal struggle playing out on his face. It’s clear that whatever he’s about to say isn’t easy for him. You step even closer, lowering your voice to match his.

“What is it, Jung-bae?” you ask, your heart beginning to race. “What happened?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, the sound of laughter echoes across the room, cutting through the tension like a knife. You both turn to see Jun-hee and Hyun-ju walking toward you, their faces lit up with smiles, seemingly oblivious to the heaviness of the moment.

“There you two are!” Jun-hee says, her tone cheerful. “We were wondering where you disappeared to.”

Hyun-ju grins, her eyes darting between you and Jung-bae. “Are we interrupting something?” she teases, her voice light and playful.

You glance at Jung-bae, whose expression has shifted back to neutral, the tension in his face now replaced with a forced calmness. Whatever he was about to say, it’s clear that he’s not going to continue the conversation with Jun-hee and Hyun-ju here.

“No, you’re not interrupting,” you say quickly, trying to keep your tone casual. “We were just… talking.”

Hyun-ju raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she steps closer, linking her arm with Jun-hee’s. “Well, now that we’ve found you, why don’t we all sit together for a bit? It’s too depressing to be alone right now.”

You glance at Jung-bae again, hoping for some kind of signal that he’ll continue the conversation later, but he avoids your gaze. Instead, he nods at Hyun-ju, forcing a small smile. “Sure,” he says. “Why not?”

The four of you walk back toward the center of the room, but your mind is still spinning. What was Jung-bae about to tell you? What did he mean about Young-ll? The unanswered questions hang over you like a storm cloud, and as much as you try to focus on the present moment, you can’t shake the feeling that something big is about to come to light.

Jung-bae walks beside you, his shoulders tense, his gaze fixed straight ahead. You don’t say anything, but you make a mental note to talk to him again as soon as you get the chance. Whatever he’s hiding, you need to know. And deep down, you have a sinking feeling that whatever it is could change everything.

The room is dark and quiet, save for the faint sounds of steady breathing and the occasional creak of the old building settling. Everyone is sprawled out in their designated sleeping spots, exhausted from the day’s events. It’s a rare moment of peace, though it feels fragile, as if it could shatter at any second.

Jung-bae sits against the wall, his knees pulled up slightly, arms resting on them. His eyes scan the room, landing briefly on each sleeping figure, but they linger the longest on you. You’re curled up on your side, your face peaceful in sleep, though the faint furrow in your brow betrays the stress you’re carrying. Jung-bae’s heart aches as he watches over you.

“Can’t sleep?” a voice whispers nearby, pulling him from his thoughts. He looks over to see Gi-hun sitting up a few feet away, his sharp eyes catching Jung-bae’s. Gi-hun moves closer, careful not to disturb the others, and sits down beside him.

Jung-bae shakes his head, sighing deeply. “No. Too much on my mind.”

Gi-hun leans back against the wall, his expression thoughtful as he studies his friend. “You’ve been acting weird lately,” he says, keeping his voice low. “We all see it especially Y/n. Whatever it is you’re holding back, you need to tell her. Why haven’t you?”

Jung-bae’s shoulders tense, and he lets out another sigh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple,” he says, his voice strained. “I want her to be happy. More than anything. But I also fear for her safety. What if what I tell her makes things worse? What if it puts her in danger?”

Gi-hun tilts his head slightly, his gaze softening. “You care about her,” he says quietly. “That’s clear to everyone. But keeping things from her isn’t protecting her. It’s only making her worry more. You’ve seen how she’s been looking at you lately she knows something’s wrong.”

Jung-bae closes his eyes for a moment, the weight of Gi-hun’s words sinking in. “I know,” he says finally. “And it kills me to see her like that. Just like I told you before, I see her as my daughter. She’s been through so much already. It would break my heart to see her hurt because of something I’ve done or something I’ve failed to do.”

Gi-hun nods slowly, his expression understanding. “I get it,” he says after a moment. “I really do. But keeping her in the dark isn’t the answer. She deserves to know the truth, whatever it is. And she deserves to hear it from you.”

Jung-bae looks down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting as he processes Gi-hun’s words. “I just don’t want her to think I don’t care about her happiness,” he says softly. “Because I do. More than anything.”

Gi-hun places a reassuring hand on Jung-bae’s shoulder. “She knows you care. Trust me, she does. But if you wait too long, it might be too late. You’ve got to tell her before that happens.”

Jung-bae glances at Gi-hun, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and anguish. “Thanks, Gi-hun,” he says quietly. “I’ll think about it. I just… I need to find the right moment.”

Gi-hun squeezes his shoulder gently before letting go. “I get it,” he says. “But don’t wait too long, okay? We don’t have the luxury of time in here.”

Jung-bae nods, his gaze drifting back to where you’re sleeping. His chest tightens as he watches the rise and fall of your breath, his mind racing with the weight of his decision. He knows Gi-hun is right, and deep down, he knows he can’t keep this from you much longer.

But even as he resolves to tell you the truth, a small voice in the back of his mind whispers fears of what might happen when he does. For now, he stays where he is, silently keeping watch over you, hoping that when the time comes, he’ll find the strength to do what’s right.

The quiet hum of the room seems to fade as you sit across from Young-il, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face. The tension of the games has been wearing on everyone, but here, in this moment, it feels like the rest of the world is far away. It’s just the two of you, stealing a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos.

Young-il has been unusually quiet tonight, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that’s both comforting and unnerving. You tilt your head slightly, studying him. “You’re staring,” you tease lightly, trying to break the silence. “What’s on your mind?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his hand reaching into his pocket. Your brow furrows as you watch him, unsure of what he’s doing. When he finally pulls his hand back out, your breath catches in your throat. There, in his palm, is a small ring simple but beautiful, its understated design perfect in its elegance.

Your eyes widen as realization dawns. “Young-il…” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He shifts closer to you, his usually confident demeanor tinged with a rare vulnerability. “I know this isn’t the way I would’ve wanted to do this,” he begins, his voice soft but steady. “And it’s definitely not the perfect place or time. But nothing about this situation is perfect, is it?”

You shake your head slightly, unable to find the words as your heart races.

Young-il takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he continues. “About us, about what we’ve been through, and about what might come next. And no matter what happens—whether we make it out of this or not I know one thing for sure: I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your breath hitches as he holds the ring up, his voice trembling just slightly. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. The weight of his words, the depth of his feelings, and the sheer courage it must’ve taken for him to ask you this here, in the middle of all this madness, overwhelm you. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you nod, your voice thick with emotion. “Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

Relief washes over his face, and he slips the ring onto your finger with care, his hands steady despite the gravity of the moment. It feels warm and solid, a promise of hope in a place where hope is so hard to come by.

But before you can fully process the moment, his expression grows serious again. “Listen,” he says, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You can wear the ring, but you can’t tell anyone about this. Not yet.”

You blink, confused. “Why not?”

He hesitates, glancing around the room as if to make sure no one is listening. Then, he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because I have a feeling,” he says. “A feeling that it’s only going to be us me and you that make it out of this alive. And until we know for sure, I don’t want anyone else to know. I don’t want this to become another target on your back.”

His words send a chill down your spine, the weight of his foresight sinking in. You nod slowly, understanding his reasoning even if it makes your heart ache. “Okay,” you say softly. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks as he gazes at you with a mix of love and determination. “I mean it, Y/n,” he says. “No matter what happens, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you survive. To make sure we survive.”

You swallow hard, the enormity of his promise and your own feelings threatening to overwhelm you. But you nod again, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “We’ll survive,” you say firmly. “Together.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips grounding you. For a moment, it feels like nothing else matters not the games, not the danger, not the uncertainty of tomorrow. It’s just you and him, clinging to each other in a world that seems determined to tear you apart.

As he pulls back, his fingers brush over the ring on your hand, a small, secret smile tugging at his lips. “It looks good on you,” he murmurs.

You manage a small smile in return, your fingers curling around his. “Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything.”

The two of you sit there in silence, your hands intertwined, as the weight of your secret promise settles between you. It’s a risk, but it’s also a lifeline a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love can still find a way to shine through.

The room buzzes with quiet chatter, the tension momentarily eased as the group finds comfort in each other’s company. Young-il sits off to the side, his gaze sharp and calculating as he observes everyone. His role as the Frontman is a secret he’s mastered keeping, and every move he makes is careful, deliberate. He’s learned how to blend in perfectly, to mask his true intentions behind an easy smile or a well-placed joke. But tonight, his thoughts aren’t on strategy or the games. they’re on you.

His eyes flicker to where you’re sitting, laughing softly at something Hyun-ju said. For a brief moment, the corners of his lips lift in a small, genuine smile. Then his expression hardens again, the gravity of the situation pulling him back to reality. He knows the danger that lies ahead, knows how fragile life is in this twisted arena. And he knows he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure your safety.

He waits, watching the group closely. They’re distracted, deep in conversation, their guard lowered for just a moment. It’s the perfect time. Rising to his feet, he stretches casually, as if he’s simply restless, before moving quietly toward the shadows where a pink-suited guard stands near the corner of the room.

Young-il’s movements are subtle, his steps light as he approaches. The guard, who had been standing stiffly at attention, straightens even more as he notices Young-il. There’s a flicker of recognition in the guard’s stance, an unspoken acknowledgment of who he’s really dealing with.

Young-il leans in, his voice a low, commanding whisper. “Listen carefully,” he begins, his tone firm but quiet enough to avoid drawing attention. “I’ve got an order for you, and you better make sure it gets through to every single one of you.”

The guard doesn’t respond verbally, but the slight tilt of his head signals he’s listening intently. Young-il’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping even lower. “No matter what happens in these games, no one and I mean no one is to harm Y/n. Not a scratch, not a bullet, nothing. She’s off-limits.”

The guard shifts slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the directive, but he remains silent. Young-il takes a step closer, his presence looming, his voice carrying a sharper edge. “She’s going to be my wife once this is all over,” he continues, his tone filled with an intensity that brooks no argument. “And if any of you so much as think about touching her, you’ll answer to me. Personally.”

The guard finally nods, a quick, nervous motion that shows he understands the weight of what’s being said. But Young-il isn’t done. He straightens, his gaze piercing as he delivers his final warning. “If she’s hurt because of your incompetence or worse, your defiance you’ll wish for death before I’m through with you. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” the guard whispers, his voice trembling slightly.

Young-il holds his gaze for a moment longer, ensuring his message is crystal clear. Then, with a slight nod, he steps back, his expression unreadable. “Good,” he murmurs. “Make sure the others know.”

Without another word, he turns and walks away, his posture relaxed but his mind racing. As he moves back toward the group, he catches sight of you again, your laughter soft but bright in the dim room. For a moment, his chest tightens, the weight of what he’s doing and what he’s risking hitting him all at once. But he pushes it aside, steeling himself. He doesn’t regret his decision. You’re worth every risk, every sacrifice.

Sliding back into his seat near you, he meets your curious gaze with a small smile. “What did I miss?” he asks casually, his tone light.

“Not much,” you reply, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Where did you sneak off to?”

“Just stretching my legs,” he says smoothly, leaning back as if nothing happened. “You know how cramped it gets in here.”

You give him a skeptical look but let it go, turning back to the conversation. As the others continue talking, Young-il glances down at the ring on your finger, hidden from view but glinting faintly in the low light. His resolve hardens. No matter what it takes, he’ll make sure you’re safe. Because in this brutal world, you’re the only thing that truly matters to him.

The room is dimly lit, the faint hum of the fluorescent light overhead the only sound cutting through the heavy silence. Most of the players are sprawled out on their makeshift beds, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to them. The tension that normally lingers in the air is subdued for the moment, giving way to a rare and fragile stillness.

One player, however, can’t seem to settle. She tosses and turns on her thin mattress, frustration etched into her face as she glares at the locked steel door. After what feels like an eternity, she finally sits up, her movements abrupt and sharp. Muttering under her breath, she makes her way toward the door, the light clinking of her footsteps barely audible over the soft breathing of the sleeping players.

Reaching the door, she knocks firmly against the small window, startling the pink-suited guard stationed outside. He stiffens slightly before stepping closer, his expression hidden behind the eerie, faceless mask. He slides open the small metal window, his deep, distorted voice cutting through the stillness. “What do you need?”

The player folds her arms, her irritation clear. “I need to use the bathroom,” she says, her tone sharp and impatient. “I can’t sleep like this.”

The guard doesn’t respond right away, instead glancing into the room briefly, his posture stiff. “Go back to bed,” he says firmly. “You can wait until morning.”

The player’s eyes narrow, her frustration bubbling over. “Are you serious?” she snaps. “You’ve let people leave before! What makes this any different?”

The guard stands motionless, his silence only fueling her anger. She steps closer, her voice rising despite the risk of waking the others. “Then why did you let Y/n and Young-il go to the bathroom earlier?” she demands, her words laced with bitterness. “That’s not fair! You’re playing favorites, and we all know it!”

Inside the room, a few of the players stir at the commotion, mumbling sleepily as they shift in their beds. The guard tenses but doesn’t react to her accusations, his hand moving to the edge of the window.

“You can’t just ignore me!” the player hisses, her voice low but insistent. “I saw them leave. I know what I saw. You let them go, but you’re telling me to just hold it? What kind of crap is that?”

The guard leans forward slightly, his voice colder now, almost menacing. “Return to your bed,” he says slowly, enunciating each word with deliberate precision. “Do not cause trouble.”

The player glares at him, her fists clenching at her sides. “This is bullshit,” she mutters under her breath, but she doesn’t press further. The guard, clearly done with the conversation, slides the window shut with a decisive clang, cutting her off entirely.

Fuming, the player turns away from the door, her movements jerky as she stalks back toward her bed. She throws herself down onto the mattress, her frustration simmering as she glares at the ceiling.

Meanwhile, outside the door, the pink guard remains still, his posture tense. His mind races as he replays the front man’s words, her accusations hitting uncomfortably close to the truth. He glances down the hallway, his thoughts lingering on Young-il’s earlier command.

“She’s going to be my wife once this is over. No one touches her.”

The guard swallows hard, forcing himself to focus. He knows better than to question orders, especially when they come directly from the Frontman himself. Even so, the growing tension among the players doesn’t go unnoticed. He knows it’s only a matter of time before the carefully maintained façade of control begins to crack.

Back inside the room, the player lies awake, her mind racing as her frustration simmers. She glances over at you and Young-il, who are sound asleep on opposite sides of the room. A bitter sneer curls at her lips. “Favorites,” she mutters under her breath, her words a venomous whisper.

But for now, the room settles once more, the uneasy silence creeping back in as the tension lies dormant, waiting for the right moment to explode.

The next morning, the group gathers for breakfast, the mood subdued but focused as everyone eats in silence. The room is filled with the sound of utensils scraping against metal trays, the occasional murmur of conversation breaking the quiet. You and Young-il sit on one of the lower bunk beds, sharing your breakfast and quietly talking, stealing rare moments of calm amidst the chaos of the games.

As you’re mid-laugh at something Young-il says, the same player from the night before approaches you both, her expression sharp and accusatory. She plants herself directly in front of you, arms crossed, her gaze narrowing as she glares at the two of you.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” she sneers, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Must be nice being the favorites, huh?”

You and Young-il exchange a quick glance, confusion flickering across your faces. Before either of you can respond, the player presses on, her voice rising slightly. “You know what’s not fair? The fact that last night I wanted to go to the bathroom, but I got told no. Meanwhile, you two got to stroll out whenever you wanted! What were you even doing? Let me guess? fucking in the bathroom? Wasting the chance while the rest of us suffer?”

The accusation catches you off guard, your cheeks flushing slightly at her boldness. “What are you talking about?” you ask, your tone defensive.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” she snaps, pointing a finger at you. “I saw it with my own eyes. You and him sneaking out together like it’s some kind of date night while the rest of us are stuck here. It’s not fair! Some of us actually follow the rules, and you two just—”

Before she can finish, Hyun-ju, who’s been listening from a nearby bed, cuts in with a sharp laugh. “Oh, come on,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You expect us to believe that? Everyone was asleep last night. You probably imagined the whole thing.”

The player spins to face Hyun-ju, her frustration boiling over. “I know what I saw!” she insists. “They left the room! I heard the door open and close, and they weren’t here for a while. What were they doing, huh?”

Hyun-ju raises an eyebrow, unfazed by the player’s outburst. “Seriously, just let it go,” she says with a shrug. “Even if they did leave, who cares? It’s not like it’s your business. And besides, if the guards let them go, then maybe you’re the one who should think about why you didn’t get permission.”

The player’s face flushes with anger, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “This is bullshit,” she mutters. “They’re playing favorites, and you all just let it happen. No wonder they’re so cozy over there. they’ve got the guards wrapped around their little fingers.”

You feel Young-il tense beside you, his jaw tightening as he places the tiny tray down. He meets the player’s glare with a cold, measured look. “We didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “If you have a problem with the guards, take it up with them. Don’t come over here accusing us of things you can’t prove.”

The player scoffs, her eyes flickering between you and Young-il before turning away in frustration. “Whatever,” she mutters. “Favorites. That’s all you are.”

As she storms off, Hyun-ju chuckles softly, shaking her head. “She’s losing it,” she mutters, leaning back against the wall. “Honestly, the paranoia in here is getting ridiculous.”

You sigh, leaning into Young-il slightly as the tension settles. He places a reassuring hand on your knee, his expression softening as he looks at you. “Ignore her,” he murmurs. “She’s just trying to stir up trouble.”

You nod, though the accusation still lingers in your mind. The games have been wearing on everyone, and it’s becoming harder and harder to tell who’s really trustworthy. But as you glance at Young-il, his calm presence grounding you, you remind yourself that you’re not in this alone. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

The room begins to settle down after the tense meeting about the rebellion. The players quietly move to their respective beds, though the air is thick with anxiety and unspoken fears. Everyone knows the plan is risky, but there’s no turning back now. As people murmur their last goodnights and lie down to rest, Jung-bae approaches Young-il, his expression serious and heavy with concern.

He hesitates for a moment, glancing briefly at you sitting a few feet away, and then speaks in a low voice, keeping their conversation as private as possible. “Young-il,” he starts, his tone measured, but there’s a clear urgency behind his words. “Listen to me. When things go down later today, I don’t want Y/n out there with us. She needs to stay here ,where she’ll be safe. I don’t want her to get hurt or worse, shot.”

Young-il leans back slightly, his arms crossed. His expression is calm but unreadable, his dark eyes narrowing as he considers Jung-bae’s words. “I understand your concern,” he says slowly, his voice steady but firm. “But she’s coming with me. Wherever I go, she goes. That’s the way it is.”

Jung-bae frowns, his frustration evident. “Young-il, this isn’t a game. today not just another day. It’s going to be chaos out there. You can’t guarantee her safety. Do you even realize what you’re asking of her?”

Young-il leans forward, his voice dropping even lower, but his tone grows sharper. “I know exactly what I’m asking,” he says firmly. “But don’t you think I’ve thought about this? I’ve thought about her safety, her life, everything. And the truth is, I want her by my side. Not just because I can protect her, but because I need her with me. If something were to happen to me today or the next day… I want my time with her. I want her time with me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Jung-bae stares at him for a long moment, his expression conflicted. He glances over at you again, his protective instincts warring with the reality of the situation. “You’re asking for a lot,” he says finally, his voice tinged with frustration. “She’s not just another player to me. She’s… like a daughter. I don’t want her in harm’s way.”

“And you think I do?” Young-il retorts, his voice growing colder, though he keeps it low enough to avoid drawing attention. “You think I’d risk her life if I didn’t believe I could keep her safe? I’d rather die than let anything happen to her. That’s why she’s staying with me. No matter what happens today or after that I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

Jung-bae sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it, Young-il. You don’t know what it feels like to—”

“To care about someone so much that it hurts?” Young-il interrupts, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Trust me, I know. And that’s exactly why I’m not leaving her behind. Because if this is the end… I want her to know how much she means to me. I want to spend every possible moment with her, no matter what the risks are.”

Jung-bae looks away, his jaw tightening as he struggles to respond. He knows there’s no changing Young-il’s mind, but the thought of you being part of the rebellion still fills him with dread.

Finally, he exhales slowly, nodding once. “Fine,” he mutters. “But if anything happens to her… it’s on you. You’ll have to live with it.”

“I already live with more than you can imagine,” Young-il replies, his tone carrying a hint of something unspoken, something dark. “But this is one thing I won’t fail at. She’ll be safe. I promise you that.”

Jung-bae gives him one last, searching look before turning and walking away, leaving Young-il alone with his thoughts. He watches you from a distance, his gaze softening as you sit quietly, oblivious to the weight of the conversation that just took place.

As he approaches you, his expression shifts, the hard edges of his demeanor softening into something more tender. Whatever today brings, one thing is certain: he’ll do everything in his power to protect you, no matter the cost.

The air is thick with the deafening sound of gunfire and chaos. You cling tightly to Young-il’s hand, your heartbeat racing as adrenaline surges through your veins. You’ve never experienced anything like this, and the sheer terror of the moment makes your grip on him almost desperate.

Suddenly, Young-il raises his gun, and before you can even process what’s happening, he fires two precise shots. Player 047 lets out a sharp groan, followed quickly by Player 015 collapsing to the ground, a pained cry escaping his lips. The scene feels surreal, and you’re frozen in place, staring at the lifeless bodies in front of you.

“Young-il!” you gasp, your voice trembling with shock and disbelief. “Why did you—”

Before you can finish, the static crackle of a walkie-talkie cuts through the chaos. Gi-hun’s voice comes through, urgent and full of concern.

“Young-il, what’s going on? Have you guys made a move yet?”

Young-il, calm and composed despite the chaos around him, picks up the walkie-talkie and responds, his tone heavy with feigned despair. “I’m sorry, Gi-hun. It’s over. They got us… and they took Y/n with them.”

You look at him in disbelief, your mind reeling from the lie he just told. What is he doing?

Gi-hun’s voice crackles back through the device, more frantic this time. “Young-il, what’s going on? Are you still there?”

Young-il remains silent for a moment, his hand tightening around the walkie-talkie. The groans of the dying players nearby provide an eerie, convincing backdrop.

“Young-il! Say something!” Gi-hun shouts through the walkie-talkie. “Come on, Young-il! Young-il!”

Without a word, Young-il raises his gun again, silencing the groans of the injured players with two more shots. The sound of the gunfire reverberates in the air, sending a chill down your spine.

He then turns off the walkie-talkie, his expression unreadable as he speaks into the communication device meant for the guards. “Let’s wrap things up,” he says coldly, his tone commanding and final.

He turns to you, his dark eyes locking with yours. There’s something in his gaze a mix of determination and something you can’t quite place. You take a step back, your mind racing with questions.

“Why did you shoot them?” you ask, your voice shaky and barely above a whisper. “Why did you lie to Gi-hun?”

Young-il steps closer to you, his movements slow and deliberate. He holds out his hand, his expression softening slightly, though there’s still an intensity in his eyes. “Just come with me,” he says quietly. “I’ll explain everything. But not here, not now.”

You hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest. Every instinct tells you to run, to demand answers, but something in his voice something raw and almost pleading stops you. You look at his outstretched hand, the same hand that just pulled the trigger moments ago, and then back at his face.

His gaze doesn’t waver, and for a moment, you see a flicker of vulnerability beneath his composed exterior. Slowly, reluctantly, you reach out and take his hand. His fingers close around yours, firm but not forceful, as he pulls you closer.

“We don’t have much time,” he says softly, his voice low and urgent. “I promise I’ll tell you everything. Just trust me.”

As he leads you away from the carnage, your mind races with questions, doubts, and fears. You don’t know what’s happening or why he’s done what he’s done, but for now, you follow him, hoping that his promise to explain everything will bring you some clarity in the chaos.

Hyun-ju had been pacing anxiously, clutching the walkie-talkie as she tried to reach Dae-ho. The cool night air was heavy with tension, her voice breaking through the silence as she called, “Dae-ho? Dae-ho, answer me!” The static crackled in response, but no words came. She tightened her grip, her heart pounding with unease. Something wasn’t right.

Deciding she couldn’t wait any longer, she hurried back toward the dorms. Her steps quickened, echoing in the empty hallways. “Dae-ho! Dae-ho!” she yelled, her voice carrying desperation. She pushed open the door to the dorm, her eyes darting around frantically. “Dae-ho, where are you? Has anyone seen—”

Her voice faltered as she spotted him, hunched over in a shadowy corner. She rushed toward him, her pulse racing. “Dae-ho!” she called again, her tone sharp with concern.

He gasped at her approach, his wide, teary eyes meeting hers. His shoulders were trembling, and he looked like a man on the verge of breaking.

“Dae-ho,” she asked, her voice softening as she knelt beside him, “what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His head hung low, and his hands were shaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Where are they?” she demanded, her voice shaking now.

Hyun-ju’s eyes flickered with confusion and alarm. She glanced around and froze when her gaze landed on a bag nearby. Its contents spilled slightly open, revealing a stockpile of ammunition.

Dae-ho’s face crumpled as he shook his head, his voice cracking with each word. “Forgive me. I’m sorry. I didn’t want this. I’m sorry.”

Before she could finish, the shrill sound of an alarm cut through the air. It was deafening, echoing throughout the dorm and sending a chill down her spine. Gasps and screams erupted from the other players, who scrambled to make sense of the chaos.

The dorm lights flickered, and the metallic voice of a masked manager came through the speakers. “Everyone, face down on the ground immediately!”

The command was cold, final. Players froze in terror, dropping to the floor in submission. Hyun-ju instinctively tried to get up, her adrenaline surging. But a firm hand grabbed her arm.

She turned to see Geum-ja, her expression steely and calm despite the panic around them. “Don’t,” Geum-ja said quietly, shaking her head. Her grip was firm but not harsh. “This isn’t a good way to die.”

Hyun-ju hesitated, her heart thundering in her chest. She glanced at Dae-ho, who was now curled up, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again, his words like a broken record. The weight of the situation pressed down on her like a crushing force, and all she could do was lower herself to the ground, her mind racing with fear and questions.

The masked guards stormed in moments later, their footsteps heavy and deliberate. The tension in the room was suffocating, and Hyun-ju’s eyes stayed fixed on Dae-ho, silently pleading for answers as chaos unfolded around them.

Over the speakers, the woman on the PA stated.“Attention, Players. The day has ended. It's time to turn in for the night. Please make your way back to your quarters immediately. If you do not comply with these orders, then you will be eliminated.”

“No, don't it!”

Once more, the woman repeats herself. “I will now repeat the instructions. Attention, players. The day has ended. It’s time to turn in for the night. Please make your way back to your quarters immediately. If you don’t comply..”

“Let’s put down our guns. If we surrender, they might not kill us.” Jung-bae tells Gi-hun since the both of them are out of ammunition. “Ah, shit.”

The player numbered 145 and the other player are trying to shoot down the pink guards who keeps coming, and the players notice that they no longer have ammunition, so they know that they’ll have to surrender. “The player numbered 145 talks over the walkie-talkie.”Advance team, do you copy? We're out of ammo over here. I'm gonna surrender.”

The guards quickly came and made their way, and they started shooting at the players, and the player 145 pulled his arms up.”Wait, please don’t shoot. I have a sick daughter at who—.”before he could finish he was shot.

Jung-bae gets down on his knees. “We surrender.” He tells the two guards, and he places down the gun, and as both Jung-bae and Gi-hun are kneeling down, footsteps can be heard, and they look up, and they see the frontman and lots of guards walking towards them. “Player 456 Did you have fun playing the hero?” The front man asks, breathing deeply. ”Now witness the consequence of your little game.” He shoots Jung-bae on the chest, and Jung-bae looks at his best friend. Hoping that Gi-hun will keep his promise of protecting you, “Gi-hun.” He said before hitting the floor

Gi-hun screams as he cries, trying to rush over to his best friend, ”Jung-bae!” But he gets pinned down to the floor by the guards who’s holding a gun at Gi-hun’s head as he cries again for his best friend.

The woman on the PA Informed that a another player has been eliminated. “Player 390, eliminated”

Young-il or should I say his real name Hwang In-ho made his way to his private quarters where you are waiting for him. Hopefully, you will forgive him and forget what he did because, in the end, all he did was to keep you safe and alive

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, jakcson era, mutual pining, strangers to lovers, minors dni

word count: 15k

summary: joel saves you and brings you to jackson, after healing you become the local librarian of the community.

warnings: some angst with happy ending, mutual pining, female masturbation, slow burn, reader's name is Ash + bisexual, oral (both receiving), heavy petting, piv, dirty talk, soft dom!joel, submissive!reader, reader enjoys bands and books, blood mention, canon typical violence, some spoilers for part 2 (for ellie)

a/n: this was commissioned by @ashleyfilm 💜 thank you so much for being patient with me and supporting me!

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the rugged terrain of Wyoming. Joel rode slowly, his horse's hooves crunching softly on the gravel path. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth, a refreshing change from the stale, musty confines of Jackson’s walls. Tall trees bordered the path, their leaves rustling gently in the mild breeze, creating a soothing symphony that mingled with the distant calls of birds. The sky stretched wide above, a brilliant canvas of blues and pinks, with streaks of orange signaling the approach of dusk.

In the distance, the snow-capped peaks of the mountains loomed majestically, their silent, steadfast presence a reminder of nature's unyielding power. The grass swayed gently in the wind, patches of wildflowers adding bursts of color to the verdant landscape. Joel could hear the faint trickle of a stream nearby, its clear waters winding through the forest, a lifeline in this vast, untamed wilderness. The tranquility of the scene was deceptive, masking the dangers that lurked just beyond the tree line.

Joel’s eyes scanned the surroundings with practiced precision, taking in every detail. The gnarled bark of ancient trees, the glint of sunlight on the surface of the stream, the fleeting shadows cast by birds overhead – everything was noted, cataloged, filed away in his mind. The world outside Jackson was a place of both breathtaking beauty and constant peril, and Joel knew better than to let his guard down. Still, in moments like this, it was hard not to appreciate the raw, untouched splendor of the land around him.

Joel dismounted from his horse, the reins held loosely in his hand as he walked the rest of the way on foot. He preferred the quiet that walking afforded, the ability to move silently through the underbrush, alert to every rustle and crack in the woods around him. The air was filled with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the fading light painted long shadows across the forest floor.

As he moved deeper into the trees, a noise caught his attention – the low murmur of voices, urgent and panicked. Joel’s instincts kicked in, and he crouched low, moving stealthily toward the source of the commotion. Each step was measured, his boots barely making a sound on the soft ground. The voices grew louder, more distinct, and he could make out the gruff tones of men in distress.

Joel reached the edge of a small clearing and paused, hidden behind a thick oak tree. He peered around the trunk, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him. Three men stood in a loose circle, their backs to him, all focused on something on the ground. Their postures were tense, movements agitated. Joel’s gaze shifted, and he saw what held their attention – a woman, unconscious and sprawled in the grass, her dark hair matted with blood.

Nearby, the bodies of two raiders lay crumpled, their lifeless forms testament to a recent struggle. Blood stained the ground around them, dark and viscous. The men standing over her seemed distraught, their faces pale and drawn. One of them knelt beside her, checking for a pulse, while the others scanned the perimeter, their eyes darting nervously.

Joel crept closer, using the trees and underbrush for cover. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the danger that could erupt at any moment. He could hear the men speaking now, their words sharp and anxious.

"Fucking bitch went feral," one of them hissed, his voice trembling.

"Yeah, these types are the worst," the man kneeling beside the girl replied. "They’ll do anything to survive, even when they’re outnumbered."

"Well, it’ll be easier to make use of her now," another said, his voice filled with anger and fear. "But look at them. She took them out, or at least put up one hell of a fight."

Joel's eyes lingered on the unconscious woman. She was small, curvy even in her battered state, and dressed in dark clothing. Despite the blood and grime, there was a fierceness about her that spoke of resilience and strength. He felt a pang of something – concern, perhaps, or admiration for her courage. But then he noticed something else: one of the men standing over her had drawn a knife.

"Let’s not take a chance and kill her now," the man with the knife said, his voice hard. "Then we can make use of her."

Joel’s jaw tightened. He knew these types – survivors who looked out for themselves first, willing to abandon those in need if it meant their own safety. Normally, he might have looked the other way, rationalizing it as the harsh reality of their world. But something about the girl struck a chord deep within him, a fierce need to protect her that he couldn’t explain.

Without another thought, Joel acted. He slipped his revolver from its holster, the weight familiar and comforting in his hand. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from his hiding place, weapon raised. "Put the knife down," he commanded, his voice cold and authoritative.

The men spun around, eyes wide with shock and fear. The one with the knife hesitated, then lunged at Joel. In a swift, practiced motion, Joel fired, the shot echoing through the trees. The man fell, clutching his chest, his knife clattering to the ground.

The other two men reacted, one drawing a gun while the other tried to grab the girl. Joel moved quickly, taking aim and firing again. The second man dropped, blood blooming on his shirt. The last man, realizing the fight was lost, turned and fled into the woods.

Joel lowered his gun, breathing heavily, and approached the girl. She was still unconscious, her pulse weak and erratic. He felt that strange pull again, a fierce need to protect her. He quickly checked her for any serious injuries, then lifted her gently in his arms. 

He carried her back to his horse, securing her in front of him. With a final glance at the clearing, he urged his horse forward, heading back towards Jackson. The girl’s head lolled against his chest, and he could feel the faint rise and fall of her breath. He didn’t know who she was or what had happened to her, but he was determined to get her to safety. As the forest closed in around them, Joel’s thoughts were a swirl of concern, determination, and a growing sense of responsibility for the woman in his arms.

Joel rode through the thickening twilight, the girl's limp body held securely in his arms. The rhythmic motion of the horse and the steady beat of her faint pulse against his chest did little to calm his racing thoughts. He found himself plagued by a storm of emotions he couldn’t quite name. Usually, the sight of another person in peril would elicit a practiced detachment, a necessary survival mechanism in this brutal world. But this time, something was different.

As they neared Jackson, Joel’s mind kept returning to the clearing – the dead raiders, the unconscious girl, the inexplicable urge to save her. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts, but they clung to him, persistent and unyielding. His grip on the reins tightened as he urged his horse faster, the town’s gates coming into view, the welcoming lights a stark contrast to the darkness encroaching on the forest.

The gates creaked open as he approached, familiar faces of the night guards registering surprise at the sight of Joel carrying an injured woman. He gave them a brief nod, too focused on his task to engage in any explanations. He directed his horse towards the infirmary, the only place in Jackson equipped to handle such emergencies.

"Doc! Get the doc!" he shouted as he dismounted, carefully cradling the girl in his arms. A flurry of movement followed as people rushed to help. The infirmary door swung open, and Joel stepped inside, the warm, sterile smell a sharp contrast to the cold, earthy scent of the woods.

"Over here!" Dr. Allen called, clearing a space on one of the cots. Joel laid the girl down gently, stepping back as the medical team sprang into action. His hands, now free, trembled slightly. He clenched them into fists, trying to steady himself.

Dr. Allen, a middle-aged woman with keen eyes and a calm demeanor, began her examination immediately. She worked with swift precision, checking the girl’s vitals, assessing her injuries. Joel watched from a distance, every muscle in his body taut with worry.

"She’s stable, but barely," Dr. Allen said, glancing up at Joel. "What happened out there?"

Joel exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Found her out near the old logging road. Raiders got to her, but she fought back. Took down a couple of them before I got there."

Dr. Allen nodded, focusing back on her patient. "She’s got a strong will to survive. That’s good. She’s going to need it."

Joel hovered near the doorway, his eyes never leaving the girl. He felt an intense, inexplicable need to ensure she was safe, to see her through this. The room buzzed with activity as the medical team cleaned her wounds, administered fluids, and worked to stabilize her condition. Joel’s worry gnawed at him, an unfamiliar sensation that left him feeling exposed and raw.

Hours seemed to feel like days as he waited, the minutes ticking by with agonizing slowness. Tommy appeared at some point, a concerned look on his face as he approached Joel.

"Hey," Tommy said softly, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. "You okay?"

Joel nodded stiffly. "Yeah, just… worried about her."

Tommy glanced at the girl, then back at Joel. "You don’t even know her."

"I know," Joel replied, his voice low. "But I couldn’t just leave her there."

Tommy gave him a knowing look, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You did the right thing. She’s in good hands now."

The night wore on, the medical team’s efforts began to show results. The girl’s breathing steadied, her pulse grew stronger. Dr. Allen finally stepped back, wiping her brow.

"She’s going to make it," she announced, and the tension in the room visibly lessened. Joel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over him.

"Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Dr. Allen nodded. "She’ll need rest and care, but she’s a fighter. She’ll pull through."

Joel settled into a chair by her bedside, watching over her as she slept. The worry that had plagued him since he found her eased slightly, replaced by a determined resolve. He didn’t understand why he felt such a connection to this stranger, but he knew one thing for certain: he would be there for her, whatever it took.

As dawn broke over Jackson, casting a soft glow through the infirmary windows, Joel remained by her side, haunted by thoughts he couldn’t quite comprehend but resolute in his newfound purpose.

He remained by her side, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but unwilling to leave her alone. The infirmary had quieted down, the initial rush of activity giving way to a more subdued atmosphere. 

When the first light of dawn seeped through the windows, casting long shadows across the room, Joel's thoughts drifted to the moments before he found her. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the woman lying unconscious, the dead raiders around her, the way she had fought so fiercely to survive. There was something about her, a strength and determination that resonated with him deeply.

Tommy returned, bringing a steaming cup of coffee. He handed it to Joel, who accepted it gratefully. "How's she doing?" Tommy asked, his voice hushed.

"Better," Joel replied, his eyes never leaving the girl. "Dr. Allen said she’s going to make it, but she needs rest."

Tommy nodded, pulling up a chair next to Joel. "You should get some rest too, brother. You’ve been up all night."

Joel shook his head. "I’ll rest when I know she’s out of the woods. Until then, I’m staying right here."

Tommy sighed but didn’t argue. He knew better than to try and change Joel’s mind once it was made up. Instead, he settled into his chair, offering silent support. The two brothers sat in companionable silence, the weight of the night’s events hanging heavily between them.

A while later, the infirmary door opened again, and Maria walked in, her face a mix of concern and curiosity. "Heard you had quite the night," she said, her gaze shifting from Joel to the woman on the bed.

"Yeah," Joel replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Found her just in time. She’s a fighter, though."

Maria smiled softly and approached the bedside, looking at the unconscious girl. "Seems like she’ll fit right in around here. We could use more fighters."

Joel nodded, a sense of agreement settling over him. He didn’t know what lay ahead for her, but he was certain she had a place in Jackson. Maria turned to Joel, her eyes searching his face.

"You’ve been here all night?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," Joel admitted, his voice low. "Couldn’t leave her alone."

Maria exchanged a glance with Tommy, a silent understanding passing between them. "You’ve done enough for now, Joel. Let us take over for a bit. You need some rest."

Joel hesitated, his eyes lingering. "I can’t. Not yet."

Maria sighed, but there was no frustration in her expression, only compassion. "Alright, but at least sit down. We’ll stay with you."

Joel nodded and He settled back into his chair, his eyes never straying far from her face. Tommy and Maria took seats nearby, their presence a comforting reminder that he wasn’t alone in this.

At one point, Maria leaned over to Tommy and whispered, "I’ve never seen Joel this concerned about a stranger before."

Tommy nodded, his eyes on Joel. "Yeah, it’s unusual. But I think she means something to him, even if he doesn’t fully realize it yet."

Maria glanced at the girl, then back at Joel. "Maybe she’s what he needs. Someone to remind him that there’s still good worth fighting for."

Tommy squeezed Maria’s hand, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe. Let’s just hope she pulls through."

As evening approached, she began to stir, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to wake up. Joel leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest.

Slowly, her eyes opened, dark and filled with confusion. She blinked several times, trying to focus on her surroundings. When her gaze finally landed on Joel, there was a flicker of recognition, followed by a mix of relief and apprehension.

"Hey there," Joel said softly, his voice gentle. "You’re safe now. You’re in Jackson."

She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Who…?"

"My name’s Joel," he replied. "I found you out there. Brought you back here to get some help. You’re going to be okay."

She nodded weakly, her eyes drifting shut again. She was still exhausted, her body demanding more rest. Joel felt a sense of relief wash over him. She was awake, and she knew she was safe.

Tommy and Maria watched the exchange with quiet interest, noting the tenderness in Joel’s voice and the protective way he watched over the girl.

"Looks like she’s in good hands," Maria said softly, her eyes meeting Joel’s. "You did good, Joel."

Joel nodded, his expression resolute. "Just want to make sure she’s okay."

As night fell, Joel remained, his thoughts a swirl of concern, determination, and a growing sense of responsibility for the woman in his care. Tommy and Maria eventually left, their reassurances lingering in the air.

Joel knew that whatever the future held, he was committed to seeing this through. He didn’t fully understand the connection he felt to this stranger, but he knew one thing for certain: he would protect her, no matter what.

***

You drifted in and out of consciousness, your mind a haze of pain and confusion. Each time you woke, the world around you shifted in and out of focus, as if you were seeing it through frosted glass. Your body ached with a deep, relentless throb that seemed to come from every part of you.

Voices echoed around you, muffled and distant, as though they were coming from underwater. You could barely make out the words, but you remembered men shouting, the sharp crack of gunfire, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. The memories came in fragments, each one more disjointed than the last.

Amidst the chaos, there was a moment of clarity, a fleeting glimpse of a man with a hard, weathered face, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and something else—concern, maybe? His face blurred as your vision faded, and you slipped back into the darkness.

The next time you woke, it was to a different sensation. You were being carried, held tightly against a warm chest. The rhythmic motion of walking jostled you gently, and you could hear the steady beat of a heart beneath your ear. The scent of sweat, leather, and something comforting enveloped you, grounding you in the moment.

You tried to open your eyes, to see who was carrying you, but your eyelids felt like they were made of lead. All you could do was rest your head against the warmth, feeling a strange sense of safety despite the pain that racked your body.

The world shifted again, and you found yourself lying on something soft—a bed, maybe? There were more voices now, urgent but less panicked than before. Hands touched you, checking your injuries, and you flinched at the pain. You heard someone speaking close by, their voice low and soothing, but the words were lost to you.

***

You slipped in and out of consciousness, each time catching fleeting glimpses of your surroundings. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls. Sometimes, you saw the man from before, sitting close by, his eyes never leaving you. Other times, you saw different faces—concerned, caring, but always strangers.

Pain flared up again, pulling you under, and you felt yourself drifting away once more. The last thing you remembered before the darkness claimed you was the feeling of a rough hand gently brushing your hair back, the touch surprisingly tender.

***

As the days passed, those glimpses began to clear. The man was always there, watching over you, his presence a constant in your fractured reality. You didn’t know who he was, but in your moments of lucidity, you felt a strange connection to him, as if he were a lifeline pulling you back from the brink.

Eventually, the pain started to recede, replaced by a heavy exhaustion that clung to your bones. You were still weak, but the moments of consciousness grew longer, and the world around you began to make more sense. You could hear conversations now, snippets of words that pieced together a picture of where you were and what had happened.

"... found her just in time," someone said.

"She’s a fighter," another voice replied, filled with a warmth that made your chest tighten.

You opened your eyes fully for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and the man’s face came into focus. He was sitting beside your bed, his expression a mixture of relief and weariness.

"Hey there," he said softly, his voice gentle. "You’re safe now. You’re in Jackson."

You tried to speak, but your voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Who...?"

"My name’s Joel," he replied. "I found you out there. Brought you back here to get some help. You’re gonna be okay."

You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting shut again. You were still exhausted, your body demanding more rest. But for the first time since the attack, you felt a flicker of hope. You were safe, and someone was looking out for you.

And as you slipped back into sleep, you held onto that thought, letting it anchor you against the darkness.

***

The faces of Tommy, Maria, and Ellie became familiar presences around you. Each time you woke, they were there, offering quiet reassurances and gentle smiles that helped ease the lingering fear in your chest. They treated you with a kindness that felt foreign yet comforting, their presence a stark contrast to the violence and chaos you vaguely remembered.

Tommy, with his calm demeanor and steady voice, sat by your bedside, occasionally sharing stories about life in Jackson and cracking jokes that brought fleeting smiles to your lips. Maria, whose warmth and strength seemed to radiate from her, checked on you with a motherly concern, ensuring you had everything you needed. And Ellie, vibrant and spirited, chattered away about books, movies, and the world beyond Jackson, her enthusiasm infectious.

Their support made you feel less like an outsider and more like a welcomed part of their community. They didn’t pry into your past or demand answers to questions you weren’t ready to answer. Instead, they simply offered their friendship and a sense of belonging that you hadn’t realized you were searching for.

One afternoon, as you were well enough to sit up in bed, Joel walked in carrying a stack of books he found in the makeshift library of Jackson. He placed the books on the bedside table and offered you a small, reassuring smile.

"Thought you might like these," he said, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of concern. "Heard you were into movies and books."

You nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Joel. It means a lot."

He nodded in return, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Just wanted to make sure you were comfortable while you were healin’."

You appreciated his care, sensing there was more behind his actions than mere kindness. But before you could dwell on it further, Joel began to explain what happened, piecing together the fragments of your memory with the events he witnessed.

"You were out there, near the outskirts," Joel began, his voice steady. "A group of raiders attacked you. They... they were about to... but I showed up just in time."

You swallowed hard, the pieces starting to fit together in your mind. The shouts, the gunfire, the overwhelming sense of fear—all of it began to make sense now, though the details were still murky.

"You saved my life," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his actions settled heavily on your shoulders, mixing gratitude with a profound sense of vulnerability.

Joel shook his head, a hint of discomfort crossing his features. "Just did what anyone would have done."

But you knew better. Not everyone would have risked their own safety to intervene, especially in a world where survival often meant turning a blind eye. Joel chose differently, and his decision brought you here, to safety and healing.

As Joel stood there, his presence a reassuring anchor in the storm of your thoughts, you felt a surge of gratitude and something else—a growing connection that went beyond words. It was as if fate had brought you together, intertwining your lives in ways neither of you fully understood.

***

Slowly regaining strength each day, Joel’s visits became a steady rhythm in your recovery. It started with small gestures—him checking in on you, bringing fresh bandages or a cup of tea. But it was the mornings that stood out the most.

Every morning without fail, Joel arrived with a small bouquet of wildflowers he had gathered from the outskirts of Jackson. He placed them in a makeshift vase by the window, the delicate blooms adding a splash of color to the sterile hospital room. The gesture was simple yet meaningful, a reminder of life and beauty amidst the harshness of your world.

You watched him silently as he arranged the flowers with care, his hands gentle yet purposeful. There was a quiet intensity about him in those moments, a vulnerability he rarely showed to others. And as he turned to you with a soft smile, you felt a flutter of something deeper than gratitude—an unspoken connection that grew stronger with each passing day.

You began to talk more during his visits, sharing stories and snippets of your pasts. Joel spoke sparingly about Sarah, his daughter, and the pain of losing her. You listened attentively, offering words of comfort when the memories threatened to overwhelm him. In turn, you shared glimpses of your own life before the outbreak—memories of family, friends, and a world that now seemed like a distant dream.

Your conversations flowed easily, punctuated by moments of shared laughter and quiet understanding. There was a comfort in Joel’s presence, a familiarity that eased the ache of loneliness you had carried for so long. And in those stolen moments between nurse visits and medical checks, you began to see Joel not just as a protector, but as someone who had quietly slipped into the spaces of your heart.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast a golden glow across the room, Joel lingered by your bedside longer than usual. The air between you seemed charged with unspoken words, a tension that crackled beneath the surface.

"You know," Joel began, his voice low and rough with emotion, "I’ve never been one for… for flowers."

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile. "I’ve noticed," you replied softly, your heart beating a little faster in your chest.

"Guess I’m makin’ an exception for you."

The admission hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You reached out tentatively, placing your hand over his where it rested on the edge of the bed. His fingers curled around yours, warm and solid, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"I’m glad you did," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. "Me too."

In that moment, the distance between you dissolved, replaced by an undeniable pull that drew you closer together. It was as if you had been circling each other, hesitating on the edge of something profound. And now, with your hands intertwined and your hearts laid bare, there was no turning back.

***

One evening, as you sat together in the fading light, Joel’s hand found yours once more. His touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest, and found him already looking at you with an intensity that stole your breath away.

"Joel," you whispered, the word a prayer on your lips.

He didn’t speak, but his eyes held yours captive, searching for any hesitation or doubt. And when he leaned in, closing the distance between you, you thought the world would finally fall away, leaving only the warmth of his lips.

But what you expected never happened. Instead, he stilled, his eyes dropping to your lips and then back to meet your eyes over and over. He pulled away, swallowed thickly, and got up from his seat. He left without saying another word.

But, through it all, Joel continued to bring you flowers every morning—a silent reminder of the love and hope that had blossomed between you amidst the ruins of your world.

***

Several months passed in Jackson, and with each day of recovery, you found yourself drawn more deeply into the rhythm of life within the fortified walls. The once unfamiliar faces of Tommy, Maria, Ellie, and Joel became your steadfast companions, their presence weaving a tapestry of belonging that you hadn't felt since before the outbreak.

As you regained your strength, you sought out ways to contribute to the community that had welcomed you with open arms. It was during one of Joel's visits that he suggested you spend time at the local library, knowing your love for books and movies from your earlier conversations. The idea resonated deeply with you, igniting a spark of excitement and purpose.

The library itself was a refuge—a haven of knowledge and imagination nestled within the sturdy walls of Jackson. Its shelves were lined with dusty books of every genre imaginable, their spines worn and weathered from years of use. The air was infused with the comforting scent of paper and ink, a familiar aroma that brought back memories of lazy afternoons spent lost in fictional worlds.

Occasionally, patrons would wander in, seeking recommendations or browsing the latest arrivals. You greeted them warmly, offering assistance with finding books or answering questions about library programs. Some were regular visitors, their faces becoming familiar over time, while others were newcomers, drawn in by the promise of a quiet corner and a good book.

During breaks, you would steal moments for yourself—a cup of tea, a brief pause to admire the view from the library windows. The town of Jackson spread out before you, a patchwork of rooftops and winding streets, framed by the majestic peaks of the surrounding mountains.

Joel's visits were a highlight of your day, his footsteps echoing softly on the library floor as he approached. Sometimes, he would linger near the front desk, watching you with a quiet intensity that sent a flutter of warmth through you. Other times, he would join you in the stacks, his presence a steady comfort as you exchanged snippets of conversation between the rows of books.

As you meticulously arranged a display of newly arrived mystery novels near the entrance of the library, the familiar sound of footsteps approached from behind you. You turned to see Joel entering with Ellie at his side, their presence instantly brightening the quiet atmosphere of the library.

"Hey," Joel greeted with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made your heart skip a beat. "How's the day treatin’ you?"

You returned his smile, feeling a rush of warmth at his presence. "It's going well. Just getting things in order here."

Ellie darted off towards the fiction section, her eyes scanning the shelves with eager anticipation. "I'm looking for that new sci-fi book Tommy mentioned," she called back over her shoulder, her voice echoing softly through the library.

Joel chuckled fondly, his gaze lingering on Ellie for a moment before returning to you. "She's been itchin’ to read that one for weeks now."

"She's got great taste."

Joel moved closer, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. "You know, Ellie's been talking about you," he admitted, his voice low and intimate. "Says you've been a lifesaver with those book recommendations."

"Well, I'm glad I could help."

"You do more than just help, you know." 

Before you could say anything his gaze, usually steady and composed, softened as he noticed the small cut on your wrist. Without a word, he gently took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin.

You held your breath, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you at his proximity. His fingers traced the delicate line of the cut, his touch gentle yet firm as he inspected it. "What happened?" he asked quietly, concern etched in the lines of his face.

You swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "I... I got a splinter earlier," you managed to explain, your words coming out in a breathless rush. "It's nothing, really. I took it out, but..."

Ignoring you, he continued to examine your palm, his brow furrowed in concentration. His thumb brushed lightly over the area where you had removed the splinter, and then he paused, his expression changing subtly.

"There's still a small piece in there." 

"I thought I got it all out," you admitted, a hint of frustration coloring your tone.

Joel met your eyes, his gaze steady and reassuring. "It happens," he murmured, his focus shifting back to your hand. "Let me take care of it."

With practiced ease, Joel reached into his pocket and withdrew a small pair of tweezers. He positioned himself beside you, his touch careful and precise as he gently extracted the remaining splinter from your palm. You held your breath, watching as Joel worked with steady hands and unwavering focus. The sensation was more comforting than painful.

"There," Joel said softly, finally withdrawing the tweezers and inspecting his handiwork. "All done."

You exhaled a sigh of relief, "Thank you," you murmured.

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Anytime," he replied quietly, his voice rough with unspoken emotions.

Then, without a word, he leaned in and pressed his warm lips against the throbbing patch of skin. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart beating a mile per minute. It didn’t last. It felt like a drizzle of rain, leaving your skin as soon as it touched it. He let go of your hand and took a quick step back, he looked remorseful like he regretted his action almost immediately. 

His look made you feel guilty. Your heart aching even though you knew you’d done nothing wrong. 

***

In the weeks and months that followed, you and Joel found yourselves drawn closer together, your bond deepening with each shared moment and whispered conversation. The library remained a sanctuary where your friendship blossomed amidst the pages of beloved stories and the quiet hum of everyday life in Jackson.

With Joel heading out on patrol, the library felt unusually quiet that day. Ellie had arrived earlier, her energy and curiosity filling the space as she browsed through the shelves with a voracious appetite for new stories.

You greeted her with a warm smile as she approached the front desk, her arms already filled with a diverse stack of books ranging from graphic novels to classic literature. 

"Hey, Ellie," you greeted cheerfully, taking note of her eclectic choices. "Finding everything okay?"

"Definitely! You've got so many cool books here," she exclaimed, carefully setting down her stack on the counter. "Mind if I borrow these?"

"Of course not," you replied with a chuckle, scanning the books one by one and checking them out for her. "I'm glad you're enjoying the selection. Anything specific you're in the mood for?"

As Ellie launched into animated descriptions of her favorite genres and characters, you found yourself drawn into her infectious enthusiasm. You bonded over shared interests—sci-fi novels that explored distant galaxies, fantasy epics filled with magic and adventure, and even a few graphic novels that blurred the lines between reality and imagination.

In between discussions about your favorite books, Ellie shared stories of her experiences growing up in the post-outbreak world. You reciprocated by opening up about your own journey—memories of a life before the outbreak, your love for books and movies, and the challenges of finding a new sense of normalcy in Jackson.

The hours slipped by unnoticed as you lost yourselves in conversation and exploration, your laughter echoing through the library aisles. It was easy to forget the outside world for a while, immersed in the camaraderie and shared passion for storytelling that bound you together.

As the afternoon sun began to cast long shadows through the library windows, Ellie glanced at the clock with a playful grin. "I should probably head back before Joel starts worrying," she teased, gathering up her books and preparing to leave.

You nodded in understanding, grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed between you in Joel's absence. "Thanks for keeping me company, Ellie," you said sincerely, touched by her presence and the genuine connection you had forged.

Ellie flashed you a bright smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Anytime, Ash," she replied, using Joel's nickname for you with a knowing glint in her eye. "You're pretty cool, you know?"

Before you could respond, she was already halfway out the door, her laughter trailing behind her. You watched her go with a fond smile, feeling a warmth in your heart that lingered long after she had gone.

In that quiet moment, surrounded by the comforting embrace of books and stories, you reflected on the unexpected friendships that had blossomed in the wake of devastation. Joel's departure had brought you and Ellie closer together, reminding you once again of the resilience and strength that could be found in the bonds you forged and the stories you shared.

***

You lay on your bed, the soft sheets cradling your body as you closed your eyes. Your mind wandered to him, your crush, Joel. The mere thought of his name sent a shiver down your spine and a warm sensation between your legs.

You couldn't help but imagine his hands on you, his gentle touch igniting a fire within you. You pictured him hovering over you, his lips inches away from yours, his breath hot against your skin. Your fingers instinctively began to trail down your body, following the curves and dips, imagining it was his hands exploring every inch of you.

The thought of his strong, calloused hands caressing your skin made you shiver. You remembered the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the depth in them that always seemed to draw you in. You could almost feel the weight of his gaze, intense and burning, as he looked at you with a desire that mirrored your own.

As your hand found its way between your thighs, you could almost feel his touch. Your body responded eagerly, your hips arching off the bed. You let out a soft gasp, imagining it was Joel's name tumbling from your lips. The fantasy deepened, and you could see his face more clearly now, his features etched in your mind with perfect clarity.

Your mind played out various scenarios, each one more intense and intimate than the last. You imagined him leaning in to kiss you, his lips soft and insistent against yours. The kiss deepened, his tongue exploring your mouth with a slow, tantalizing rhythm that left you breathless. His hands were everywhere, tracing patterns on your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

You pictured his lips on your neck, his soft whispers in your ear, his strong arms holding you close. His voice was low and husky, filled with a need that matched your own. He told you how much he wanted you, how he couldn't stop thinking about you, and every word sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

The pleasure built and built, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You imagined him whispering your name, his breath hot against your ear, his hands guiding you, teasing you, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy.

As you reached your peak, you allowed yourself to fully indulge in the fantasy of Joel. Every touch, every kiss, every whisper, it was all in your head but it felt so real. You could almost hear his voice, feel the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of him pressing down on you, grounding you in the moment.

The waves of pleasure crashed over you, and you cried out, your body trembling with the force of your release. For a few blissful moments, everything else faded away, and it was just you and Joel, lost in the throes of passion.

And as you came down from the high, you couldn’t help but wish that it was more than just a fantasy. That one day, Joel would make all your desires and daydreams a reality. You imagined the two of you together, sharing moments of intimacy and connection, building a relationship that went beyond your wildest dreams.

But for now, you settled for this moment of sensual bliss, enjoying every second of it. You lay there, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, your mind filled with thoughts of Joel. You let yourself linger in the fantasy a little longer, savoring the feeling of being close to him, even if it was just in your imagination. And as you drifted off to sleep, you carried the hope that one day, your fantasies would become a reality.

Feeling sticky and aching, you slowly peeled yourself off the bed and headed for a quick shower. The cool water cascaded over your skin, washing away the remnants of your fantasy and providing a refreshing contrast to the heat that had consumed you moments ago. As the water soothed your body, your mind remained restless, thoughts of Joel still swirling in your head.

You felt a bittersweet twinge in your chest as you thought about him. The warmth and intensity of your fantasies clashed with the cold reality that nothing would ever happen between you and Joel. Despite how often he was around, how his presence always seemed to light up the room, he never took that next step. He never crossed the line from friendship into something more.

You replayed your interactions with him, searching for signs, any indication that he might feel the same way. There were moments that made your heart flutter—a lingering glance, a touch that felt too intimate to be merely friendly, words that seemed to carry a hidden meaning. But just as quickly, doubts crept in, and you reminded yourself that it was probably just your wishful thinking, seeing what you wanted to see.

The ache in your heart deepened as you accepted this reality. You knew that despite your longing, Joel remained just out of reach, a constant presence in your life but never quite yours. The shower water mingled with your tears as you silently mourned the unfulfilled dreams and desires that seemed destined to remain in your imagination.

As you stepped out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel, feeling the softness against your skin. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the melancholy that had settled over you. You reminded yourself that life went on, and you couldn’t stay lost in your fantasies forever.

Instead of getting dressed, you find yourself drawn back to your bed. The sheets were cool now, a stark contrast to the heat of your earlier thoughts. You climbed back in, pulling the covers around you, seeking comfort in their familiar embrace.

Your mind drifted back to Joel, to his warm brown eyes that always seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words. You pictured his smile, the way it lit up his entire face, and the sound of his laugh, so genuine and infectious. You couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have him here with you, to feel his arms around you, to share these quiet moments together.

You lay there, your heart heavy with longing, and allowed yourself to imagine just a little longer. Even though you knew it was just a fantasy, it brought a small measure of comfort. His presence in your thoughts was a bittersweet solace, a reminder of what you yearned for but also what you could not have.

Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, and you let the thoughts of Joel lull you into a dream-filled sleep. You knew that reality awaited you when you woke, but for now, you let yourself drift, holding onto the image of his warm brown eyes and the hope that one day, you would find the love you deserved.

***

Joel sat on his horse, patrolling the outskirts of Jackson with a heavy heart. The familiar landscape, with its rugged terrain and dense forests, usually offered a sense of solace and routine. Today, however, his thoughts were far from the patrol at hand. They kept drifting back to the library, to the warmth of her smile and the depth of her eyes.

He'd felt an inexplicable pull towards her since the moment he found her. Her tenacity and spirit had captivated him. She fought like hell to survive, just like he had so many times before. It was more than just attraction—it was a connection he didn't fully understand and certainly didn't know how to handle.

"Get your head in the game, Joel," he muttered to himself, trying to shake off the distraction. But the more he tried to focus on the patrol, the more his mind wandered back to her. He remembered how her breath had caught when he held her hand to inspect her cut. There was something about her that drew him in, despite every instinct telling him to keep his distance.

Back in Jackson, she was sucesfully becoming a part of the community. Tommy and Maria had taken to her quickly. Tommy often spoke highly of her, appreciating her wit and the way she didn't suffer fools. Maria admired her resilience and found in her a kindred spirit. Ellie was perhaps the closest to her, their shared love for books and movies creating a bond that seemed to grow stronger by the day.

Joel watched from the sidelines, a mix of pride and something else he couldn't quite name filling his chest. Seeing her interact with Tommy and Maria, laughing at Ellie's jokes, and bringing a new light to the community was both heartwarming and painful. He wanted to be closer to her, to let down his guard and allow himself to feel. But the fear of loss, the weight of his past, kept him from stepping into the light she offered.

One evening, Joel found himself standing outside the library, watching through the window as she and Ellie animatedly discussed a book. Her laughter rang out, clear and joyous, and it struck him deeply. He turned away, the internal struggle gnawing at him. He wanted to protect her, to be there for her, but he didn't think he deserved that kind of happiness.

Every interaction was charged with a mix of emotions—hope, fear, desire, and self-doubt. When he brought her fresh flowers each morning, her eyes would light up with a gratitude that made his heartache. Yet, he always found an excuse to leave quickly, afraid that lingering too long would reveal too much.

They found themselves alone in the library more often than not. She would be shelving books, and he would walk in, their eyes meeting across the room. Words felt inadequate, and yet the silence between them spoke volumes. She began to notice his frequent visits, the way he seemed to hover just on the edge of their interactions, always present but never fully engaging.

One afternoon, Joel found her struggling with a particularly heavy stack of books. Without thinking, he moved to help, their hands brushing as they both reached for the top book. The contact sent a jolt through him, and he saw the same spark in her eyes. She bit her lip, a small, nervous habit he'd come to recognize, and his resolve wavered.

"You don't have to do this alone," he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for answers he wasn't ready to give.

"Neither do you," she replied, her voice equally soft but filled with a strength that shook him.

They stood there, the library fading into the background as the weight of their unspoken words hung between them. Joel's heart pounded in his chest, the magnetic pull towards her stronger than ever. He wanted to reach out, to close the distance and let her in, but the fear of losing her, of not being enough, held him back.

Finally, he stepped away, the moment broken by his retreat. She watched him go, a mix of sadness and understanding in her eyes. Joel walked out of the library, the internal battle raging on. He didn't know how long he could keep this up, but for now, he would protect her the only way he knew how—by keeping his distance, even if it tore him apart inside.

***

The library was your sanctuary, a place where you could lose yourself in the comforting embrace of books and the soothing rhythm of routine. You were deep in thought, rearranging a shelf of classic novels when you heard the door creak open. Turning, you saw Ellie standing there, her usual bright energy replaced by a troubled expression.

"Hey, Ellie," you greeted her warmly, trying to read her mood. "What's up?"

Ellie hesitated at the entrance, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She looked around the empty library as if making sure you were alone. "Hey, Ash," she said softly, her voice lacking its usual spark. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," you replied, setting the book you were holding aside and walking over to her. "What's on your mind?"

Ellie bit her lip, her eyes downcast. "It's... kind of personal," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your heart going out to her. "Let's sit down," you suggested, guiding her to a cozy corner of the library where a couple of armchairs were nestled by a large window. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the room, creating a safe, intimate space for your conversation.

You settled into the chairs, and you waited patiently, giving Ellie the time she needed to gather her thoughts. She looked at her hands, her fingers nervously tracing patterns on the armrest.

"I've been feeling really confused lately," Ellie began. "There's this girl... Dina. She's amazing. Funny, smart, and just... so cool. I think I have a crush on her."

"Dina sounds wonderful," you said encouragingly. "It's okay to have feelings for someone."

Ellie looked up at you, her eyes filled with uncertainty. "But... it's more than that. I think... I know I'm not into guys. I like girls. And it scares me. I don't know how people will react, especially Joel."

Her vulnerability tugged at your heartstrings. You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on hers. "Ellie, thank you for sharing this with me," you said softly. "It's a big step, and I want you to know that it's perfectly okay to feel the way you do."

Ellie swallowed hard, her eyes searching yours for any hint of judgment. "You really think so?" she asked, her voice fragile.

"I know so," you replied firmly. "And you're not alone in this. I'm bisexual."

Ellie's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

You nodded, offering her a comforting smile. "Yes. I've been where you are, feeling scared and unsure. But the important thing to remember is that your feelings are valid. Who you love doesn't define your worth; it's just a part of who you are."

Ellie took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the floor as if the words she was about to say were too heavy to lift. "I'm really scared to tell Joel," she confessed, her voice trembling. "What if he doesn't accept me? What if he thinks less of me?"

You leaned forward, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Ellie, I know Joel can be a bit... gruff and guarded, but he cares about you more than anything. You mean the world to him. He's been through a lot, and he's seen more than most. If there's one thing I know about Joel, it's that he values the people he loves for who they are."

Ellie's eyes flicked up to meet yours, a glimmer of hope in their depths. "You really think so?"

"I know so," you said with conviction. "I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he worries about you. He might have his rough edges, but his heart is in the right place. And if you need someone to be there with you when you tell him, I'll be right by your side."

Ellie bit her lip, her expression softening as she considered your words. "It's just... he's been like a father to me. I don't want to disappoint him."

"You won't," you assured her. "Joel loves you unconditionally. He might be surprised at first, but that won't change how much he cares about you. He'll want you to be happy, and being true to yourself is a big part of that."

Ellie nodded slowly, the fear in her eyes giving way to a cautious optimism. "I hope you're right. I just don't want to lose him."

"You won't lose him," you repeated gently. "Joel's been through too much to let something like this come between you. He'll need time to process, but he'll come around. And remember, you have a whole community here who supports you, including me."

"Thanks, Ash. It means a lot to hear that."

"Anytime, Ellie," you said, giving her a reassuring smile. "You're not alone in this. We'll face it together."

Ellie took a deep breath, nodding as if steeling herself for the conversation ahead. "Okay. I'll tell him. But... can you really be there with me when I do?"

"Of course," you replied without hesitation. "I'll be right there with you, every step of the way."

You sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of the conversation settling between you. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the library. It felt like a moment of quiet reflection, a brief respite before the next step in Ellie's journey.

Finally, Ellie broke the silence, her voice stronger and more determined. "I've got to tell Dina too. I think she might feel the same way, but I've been too scared to say anything."

You smiled, proud of her courage. "That's a good idea. Being honest with her will help you both figure out where you stand."

Ellie nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, I think so too. Thanks, Ash. For everything."

"You're welcome," you said warmly. "Remember, I'm always here if you need to talk or just need a friend."

Ellie stood up, her shoulders a little straighter than before. "I'll see you later, Ash. And... thanks again."

As she walked out of the library, you watched her go with a sense of pride and hope. Ellie was on the brink of a significant moment in her life, and you were honored to be a part of it. The bond you had forged in that quiet corner of the library was a testament to the power of empathy, understanding, and unconditional support.

And as you returned to your work, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. Helping Ellie find her way was just the beginning. In a world filled with uncertainty and hardship, moments like these remind you of the strength and resilience that lay within each of us. You were not alone, and together, you could face whatever challenges came your way.

***

You were on patrol, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows through the dense forest as you walked. The air was crisp, the smell of pine and earth strong around you. Normally, you would have found the setting peaceful, but today there was an uncomfortable silence hanging between Joel and you. No matter how hard you tried to make conversation, he remained stoically quiet, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a focused intensity.

"So, Joel," you started for what felt like the tenth time, trying to break through the barrier of silence. "How's Ellie doing with all those books she borrowed? She mentioned she really liked the one about the ancient Greek heroes."

Joel grunted in response, his gaze never leaving the path ahead. "She liked it," he said shortly.

You bit your lip, feeling the awkwardness grow. It wasn't like Joel to be this distant, especially after everything you had been through. You wondered if something had happened, if he was angry or upset with you. You tried again, your voice a bit more tentative this time. "I hope she's doing okay. She's really taken a liking to the library."

"She's fine," Joel replied, his tone clipped.

A heavy silence fell over you once more. You could hear the crunch of leaves beneath your boots, the distant chirping of birds, and the occasional rustle of a small animal scurrying through the underbrush. It was a stark contrast to the usual camaraderie you shared, and it was unsettling.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You stopped walking, forcing Joel to stop as well. "Joel, what's going on?" you asked, your voice firmer than you felt. "You've been quiet all day, and it's making me feel like I did something wrong."

Joel turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, just stared at you with those intense, deep-set eyes. Then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of frustration. "It's not you," he finally said, his voice softer. "It's me. I've got a lot on my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked, taking a step closer to him.

He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. "It's complicated," he muttered. "I just... I don't want to mess things up."

You frowned, not understanding. "Mess what up? Joel, you've been a good friend to me. If there's something bothering you, you can tell me. Maybe I can help."

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with turmoil that took your breath away. "That's just it," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't know how to handle what I'm feelin’. I've been trying to keep my distance because I don't want to hurt you. But seein’ you, bein’ near you... it's drivin’ me crazy."

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sank in. "Joel," you whispered, taking another step closer until you were almost touching. "You don't have to protect me from yourself. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

He shook his head again, more forcefully this time. "You don't understand, Ash. I've done things, terrible things. I don't deserve... this. You. I don't deserve you."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Joel, we all have our pasts. We all have things we're not proud of. But that doesn't mean we don't deserve happiness, or love. You've been there for me when I needed it most. Let me be there for you."

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and longing. "I want to believe that," he said quietly. "I really do."

"Then believe it," you urged, your voice soft but insistent. "We can take it one step at a time. You don't have to face everything alone."

For a long moment, Joel didn't move. Then, slowly, he reached up and covered your hand with his, his grip strong and reassuring. You stood there, the forest around you silent and still, a world away from the chaos and danger that usually surrounded you. At that moment, it was just the two of you, facing your fears and uncertainties together. He didn’t say a word, then, slowly, he let you go and pressed forward. 

The atmosphere between Joel and you remained tense as you continued your patrol. The silence was thick, each step through the forest feeling heavier than the last. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, circling around the complexities of your unspoken emotions. You couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be embraced by him, to feel his strong arms around you, offering comfort and security.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t see the tree root protruding from the ground. Your foot caught on it, and before you knew it, you were falling. You landed hard, a sharp pain shooting through your arm as you scraped it against a jagged rock.

"Damn it," you muttered, wincing as you cradled your arm. Blood seeped from a cut just below your elbow, the wound stinging in the cool air.

Joel was at your side in an instant, his expression shifting from distant to concerned. "You alright?" he asked, his voice gruff but laced with worry.

"I'm fine," you snapped, though your voice was tight with pain. "Just a cut."

Joel ignored your words, gently taking your arm to inspect the wound. His touch was surprisingly tender, and despite the pain, you felt a shiver run down your spine. His brow furrowed as he examined the cut, his fingers carefully avoiding the worst of it.

"We need to clean this up," he said, his voice authoritative. "You got any water left?"

"Don't," you interrupted, pulling your arm away from him and trying to push him back. "Why do you even care? You've been distant all day."

Joel looked taken aback, his hand frozen in mid-air. "I'm just tryin’ to help." 

"Yeah, well, it’s a little too late for that," you muttered, your back against a tree as you tried to compose yourself. The pain in your arm was nothing compared to the frustration bubbling inside you.

Joel knelt in front of you, his brows tightly drawn together. "I know I’ve been an ass but. . .” 

You looked away, trying to ignore the sting of tears in your eyes. "Whatever. Just go away, Joel. It hurts more when you show softness only to take it away."

For a moment, he didn't move, his gaze searching your face for something. Then, with a sigh, he sat back on his heels, clearly conflicted. 

Joel’s hand shot out and caught your wrist as you tried to push him away again. His grip was like iron, firm yet not painful. You struggled against him, frustration mounting, but he didn’t let go. His eyes bored into yours.

"Joel, let go," you demanded, your voice shaky.

He didn't budge, his grip unwavering. "Not until you listen," he said, his tone firm.

You tried to pull away, but it was futile. "Listen to what? More silence?"

His eyes flashed with something you couldn't quite decipher. "Listen to this," he said quietly before leaning in.

You barely had time to register his words before his lips were on yours. The kiss was unexpected, a collision of emotions that took your breath away. You stiffened, caught off guard, but Joel’s hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but securely as his fingers worked the muscles.

For a moment, you were frozen, your mind reeling from the sudden intimacy. Then, slowly, you began to respond, your resistance melting away. The kiss deepened, a raw and desperate exchange of everything you had been holding back. Your free hand found its way to his shoulder, gripping tightly as if anchoring yourself in the storm of emotions.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard. Joel’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as he whispered, "I'm sorry. I didn’t know how else to show you how much you mean to me."

You swallowed, your heart pounding. "Joel, you can’t just... kiss me to make everything better," you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

"I know," he replied softly, his grip on your wrist loosening but not releasing you entirely. "But I had to do somethin’. I can’t keep pushin’ you away. Not when I feel this way."

"Then stop pushing me away," you whispered, your voice trembling. "We can figure this out together."

Joel nodded, his thumb gently brushing over your wrist. "Together," he agreed, his voice resolute.

Joel's touch shifted from your wrist to the cut on your arm, his movements careful and precise. His fingers traced the edges of the wound, assessing the damage with a quiet intensity that belied his usual stoicism. You watched him closely, feeling the warmth of his hands against your skin, a stark contrast to the coolness of the forest around you.

Using the water from your bottle, Joel cleaned the cut gently, his touch light yet firm. The sting of the water made you flinch, but he continued his ministrations without hesitation. His focus was solely on you, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked to ensure the wound was thoroughly cleansed.

Once satisfied that the wound was clean, Joel reached into his pack and retrieved a small first aid kit. With practiced movements, he carefully applied antiseptic ointment to the cut, his touch gentle despite the efficiency of his actions. You winced again at the sting of the ointment, but Joel's reassuring presence kept you grounded.

Next, he unfolded a sterile bandage from the kit and began to wrap it around your arm, securing it in place with medical tape. His hands moved with a steady rhythm, his focus unwavering as he ensured the bandage was snug but not constricting. Each touch sent a wave of comfort through you, a silent reassurance that he was there, taking care of you.

As he finished securing the bandage, Joel looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of relief and concern. "There," he said softly. "That should do for now."

"Thank you, Joel," you murmured.

He gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before he slowly withdrew, giving you space. 

You sat there for a while longer, the forest around you settling into an evening hush. As you made your way back from your patrol, the tension that had gripped both of you seemed to ease with every step. The forest was bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun, casting long shadows on the familiar path to Jackson. Joel walked beside you, his presence a silent comfort.

You stole glances at him from the corner of your eye, unsure of what to say after everything. His hand, rough and calloused from years of survival, brushed against yours as you walked, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. To your surprise, Joel’s fingers interlaced with yours, his grip firm yet gentle, as if afraid you might slip away.

Finally reaching the outskirts of Jackson, you hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Joel slowed his pace slightly, as if sensing your uncertainty. As you approached your house, you turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Joel," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "would you like to come in?"

His gaze met yours, searching for something in the depths of your eyes. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'd like that." 

You led him inside, the familiar warmth of home enveloping both of you as you stepped through the door. Joel followed you into the living room, his presence filling the space.

As you settled on the couch, Joel’s hand found yours once more, his touch grounding and reassuring. The weight of everything you had shared that day hung in the air, a fragile bridge between friendship and something more. His thumb brushed against the bandage, the wound still stinging underneath. He leaned closer, lips brushing your temple, you leaned in and as you did, you slowly turned your face, meeting his lips with your own. 

He tasted sweet like a gentle summer breeze, that subtle wind that feels like a caress from the sun. You were bolder than him, parting your lips with a greed you thought you didn’t have anymore. He parted his lips with a groan, the deep sound made you tremble. Suddenly you were on top of him, your legs parted over his lap as you placed soft, rushed kisses all across his face. You felt him smile and it made your lips curl up, your heart skipping a beat. 

His hips jerked up as he parted away, his breath warm when he spoke, “Your arm, darlin’. . .” 

You felt yourself leaning in, wanting more—needing more. Joel’s lips softly brushed against yours, causing electricity to surge through your body. His hand trails up your arm, gently caressing the bandage where he had tended to your wound earlier.

"My arm feels...better now," you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady as Joel’s hand lingers on your skin.

He leans in closer, his lips now only a fraction of an inch away from yours. "Good," he muttered, his voice low and husky. "I'm glad."

Slowly, almost hesitantly, your lips brushed against his. The sensation was electric, igniting a fire within you. You felt the warmth of Joel’s breath against your face as he deepened the kiss, his hand now cupping your cheek tenderly.

Lost in the moment, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It felt like time had stopped and you never wanted this moment to end. As your lips parted, your foreheads rested against each other, both of you breathing heavily.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," Joel said.

"Me too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel leaned in for another kiss, but this time it was slow. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting you, moaning whenever you tease him with a flick of your own.  

You felt a rush of excitement as Joel’s hands explored your body, his touch igniting a burning desire within you. You let out a small gasp as he removed your shirt, revealing your now bare chest.

Joel’s eyes roamed over your body, his gaze dark as the bark of the oldest tree in Jackson.  

His lips trailed down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you. 

“Impatient one, aren’t you?” he rasped. “Gonna have to teach you some patience while we’re at it.” 

Without breaking the kiss, Joel’s hands moved to your bra, unclasping it with practiced ease. You felt a rush of excitement and nervousness as he removed it, leaving your chest exposed to him.

He pulls away slightly, now gazing at you in awe. "God, you're beautiful," 

His lips moved down to your breasts, his touch gentle and tender. You gasp as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his other hand cupping your other breast. He twisted one nipple while pampering the other with his tongue, a soft whimper escaped your throat. You eagerly grind your hips down, feeling the hard outline of his cock. Sweat beaded at the curve of your spine, your body was blissfully being burned from the inside out. 

You buried your hand in Joel’s hair, the sensations he’s causing you almost overwhelming. As he continued to kiss and caress you, your body responded eagerly, your arousal building with each passing moment.

You moaned softly as Joel moved his hands lower, his fingers expertly teasing and exploring your most sensitive parts. You couldn’t believe how good he made you feel.

“You like that huh?” he muttered. “Can’t wait for me to devour that sweet pussy of yours?” 

You feel yourself getting lost in the moment, forgetting about everything else except for the two of you.

“Yes,” you breathed, your chest caving in on itself. “Please, Joel, you have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this.” 

“And how long would that be, sweetheart?” 

“A damned long time,” you smiled. “Way too long.” 

You grabbed Joel’s hand and promptly stood up, leading him to the bedroom. You felt his hand grip yours tighter, letting you know that he was just as eager as you are.

When you entered the room, you turned to face Joel, your eyes locking with his. Without a word, you slowly started to undress him, your hands running over his defined chest and down his softened torso.

Once he’s completely naked, you step back and admire his body, feeling a surge of want course through you. 

“You brought me here just to ogle me?” he grinned. “That’s not very polite you know.” 

You took a step closer, your hand resting on his chest as you pressed against him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, your bodies pressing closer together in unison. You felt the length of his cock, your hand wrapping around it without second thought. His chest rattled with a groan, cock twitching in your palm. You slowly brought him to the bed, allowing yourself to fall, you pulled him down with you. 

You felt his lips trailing down your neck, his tongue leaving a trail of wetness as he moved lower. Your breathing became heavier, your anticipation building with every passing second.

Joel’s mouth found its way to your most sensitive area, his tongue expertly teasing and flicking against your clit. You let out a gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as waves of pleasure coursed through you.

“Mine,” he groaned, pressing his mouth harder against you. “This pussy is all mine, say it or I’ll stop.” 

“Yours,” you replied almost immediately. “Every inch of me is yours, I belong to you, every bit of me.” 

He hummed his approval as he sucked your clit between his lips, teeth gently nibbling the sensitive flesh. Your upper body jolted, hands finding the back of his head. 

But you’re not content with just lying back and enjoying his touch. You wanted to reciprocate the pleasure, to make him feel just as good as he’s making you feel.

You pushed Joel onto his back and straddled him, your hands roaming over his chest as you kissed him. Your hips grind against his, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through you.

With an innate sense of what he likes, you took him in your hand, stroking him slowly but firmly. You felt him grow harder as precome slid down his throbbing cock, you moved lower, taking him into your mouth.

You used your tongue and lips to pleasure him, feeling him writhe beneath you. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. He tasted bittersweet, cock pulsing against your tongue. Your cunt throbbed as you took him deeper down your throat, he groaned, hips thrusting forward. When you choked, he pulled you off and touched the corner of your lips with the pad of his thumb. 

“Later,” he muttered, his eyes dropped down to witness your pouty lips, only to smile when he met your gaze again. “Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to use that smart mouth.” 

With that he flipped you over onto your back, his eyes full of need as he positioned himself between your legs. You spread them eagerly, welcoming him into you.

With one swift movement, he slipped inside of you, both of you letting out a moan. He started to move, his hips thrusting against yours in a rhythm that became more and more intense. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you as your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. You felt yourself getting lost, your mind consumed by the pleasure each thrust brings.

Joel’s hands gripped your hips tightly, forcing your hips against him, you feel slick dripping down and staining the sheets.  Your entire body writhed against him, your eyes rolling all the way to the back of your skull as his cock stretched you over and over again. 

With one final push, you both reached your climax, your bodies trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you. You collapsed onto the bed, gasping and panting as you tried to catch your breath.

As you laid there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for this moment. You’ve never felt so connected to someone before, and you know that you want to experience this feeling again and again with Joel by your side.

***

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle warmth across the room where you and Joel lay nestled close together. The quiet morning wrapped around both of you like a comforting blanket. As you stirred awake, you felt Joel's arm around you, his presence steady and reassuring.

"Mornin’," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep but filled with tenderness.

You shifted slightly, turning to face him with a soft smile. "Morning," you replied softly, feeling a rush of warmth at the closeness between you.

Joel brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. "How's your arm feelin’?" he asked, his concern evident.

"It's better," you assured him, leaning into his touch. "Thank you for taking care of me yesterday."

His gaze softened, a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. "Always," he said quietly, his hand resting against yours.

You and Joel lingered in the soft embrace of the morning light, your whispered conversation carrying a weight of unspoken understanding. As you shared your thoughts, a mutual agreement emerged between you—a decision to keep your burgeoning relationship private, shielded from the complexities that often accompanied deeper connections in your fragile world.

"I think it's best if we keep this between us," Joel murmured, his voice low and earnest. "We've both been through enough already."

You nodded. "Yeah, it's just... I don't want anything to jeopardize what we have," you admitted quietly, your fingers tracing patterns on the blanket draped over you both.

Joel's gaze softened, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. "Neither do I," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "But being with you... it feels right."

A swell of warmth filled your chest at his words, a silent reassurance that echoed your own sentiments. Despite the uncertainties that lay ahead, you couldn't deny the growing connection between you, a bond forged through shared experiences and unspoken emotions.

You lingered a while longer in the quiet sanctuary of the morning, each moment steeped in the gentle intimacy of newfound understanding. As the world outside stirred with its own rhythms, you and Joel found solace in the simple promise of each other's company, silently vowing to protect what you had found amidst the uncertainties of your lives.

In that fleeting moment of shared vulnerability, you knew that your decision to keep your relationship a secret was not just a shield against potential complications—it was a testament to the fragile hope that had bloomed between you, a hope that dared to whisper of a future where you could navigate the challenges together, one quiet morning at a time.

***

“On your knees, sweetheart. Now.” 

Head completely empty, you did as you were told. The small shed at Tommy and Maria’s place was secluded enough for no one to see either of you. The leaves of a nearby tree blocked the window, the gentle scrapes making you feel safe. 

It had been a month since you and Joel started your relationship together. He was a tentative man, both in public and behind closed doors. He would remember what you told him and bring you small gifts from whenever he went on patrol. It warmed your heart and for the first time, you genuinely felt happy. 

You leaned into his touch, his palm cupping the side of your cheek. Smiling, you unzipped his pants and took him into your palm. He was hard already, eager to feel the warmth of your tongue on the sensitive skin. You gave the tip a soft kiss, smiling wider as he shuddered. His hand slid to the back of your head. He thrust forward, the length of his cock sliding against your lips. You parted them, tongue flat against the underside of his cock, you took him deep down your throat. 

“Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, head thrown back. “Show me how much you want me, darlin’.” You looked up and blinked rapidly. “I bet you're soaked right now. . . With all those people outside havin’ fun, aren’t you ashamed?” 

Your stomach bottomed out, excitement growing in your gut. You attempted to make a sound that would convey disagreement, but he only smiled, pushing himself further down. 

“Take it,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Take all of it.” 

Your eyes widened as he began to fuck your throat with earnest, precome coating your tongue. He was impatient, which was something he rarely was. Maybe it was because of the barbecue outside, or the fact that this was his baby brother’s shed—Whatever it was, you enjoyed it. 

You could barely breathe, saliva and spit dripping down the corners of your outstretched mouth. His balls laid heavy against your chin, smacking you every time he snapped his hips forward. Your eyes rolled, tears pricking the sides. You thought you heard him shushing you, a soothing sound, at least, that’s why you assumed he was shushing you. To soothe you. You had missed the fact that your moans had grown obscenely loud despite his cock sliding between your lips—

“Hey Joel, you guys good in—” Both of you stilled at the sound, the creak of the door, the familiar soft voice. Your cunt clenched, slick dripping between your thighs. You so badly wanted to touch yourself, to soothe the pain, but that seemed like an impossible thing to do. 

Joel cleared his throat, adam’s apple bobbing as he slowly pulled out his cock. It glistened with spit and precome, the sight of it making you whimper. Your head felt like it was floating, that none of this was really and all you could focus on was the throbbing between your legs. 

He prevented you from looking back towards Tommy. He held his hand firm on your neck, massaging it to keep you calm. 

“We’ll be out in a second,” he said, voice strained. “Sorry.” 

The younger Miller said nothing else, you only realized it was the two of you again when you heard the door closing. Joel let out a deep breath, “So much for keepin’ it a secret,” he muttered. “I won’t be hearin’ the end of it.” 

“Sorry,” you said, looking up, eyes teary. “I. . . I didn’t realize I was being so loud.” 

He promptly knelt down, holding your face between rough hands, he kissed your forehead and smiled. “Nothin’ to apologize for. I’m the one who got us into this mess, you don’t need to worry about nothin’. It ain’t the first time he caught me indecent. Now, let’s get you home.” 

“Okay,” you muttered, heart feeling light and head still feeling dizzy. “Let’s go home.” 

***

Joel sat in the dimly lit kitchen of Tommy’s and Maria’s home. The evening shadows danced across the walls, painting the room with muted hues of twilight.Tommy had walked in on them—caught them in a moment of vulnerability and intimacy.

Tommy's initial shock had given way to a steady calm as he sat across from Joel at the small wooden table, the lines of his face etched with doubt. Joel’s hands were clasped tightly in his lap, knuckles white with the strain. He stared at the worn surface of the table, struggling to find the right words.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Joel finally said, his voice rough with emotion. “It just... things got complicated. I know how it looks, Tommy. I know I’ve got no business...”

Tommy held up a hand, cutting him off. His gaze was steady, full of an unspoken empathy. “Joel, I’m not here to judge you,” he said firmly. “You’re my brother. And whatever’s going on between you and Ash, I support it. I’ve seen how she makes you feel. Hell, I’ve seen how you look at her. I want you to be happy.”

Joel’s eyes lifted to meet Tommy’s, a mixture of surprise and relief flickering across his features. “I know I don’t deserve her,” he said quietly, his voice cracking slightly. “I’ve done a lot of bad things, Tommy. I’m not the man I used to be. I don’t know why she’d want anything to do with me.”

Tommy shook his head, his expression one of deep, abiding concern. “Look, Joel, none of us are perfect. We all have our demons. But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a little happiness now and then. Ash’s been through her share of shit too. She’s not here because she thinks you’re some perfect hero. She’s here because she sees somethin’ in you that maybe you don’t see yourself.”

Joel’s gaze dropped again, the weight of Tommy’s words sinking in. “I just don’t want to mess it up,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid that something’s gonna come along and ruin it.”

Tommy leaned forward, his voice low but firm. “You’re not alone in this, Joel. None of us are. You’ve got to trust that maybe you’re worthy of something good. Maybe you’re worthy of her. And if you’re worried about messin’ things up, then do somethin’ about it. Fight for it. But don’t keep it a secret from everyone who cares about you. It’s not a burden to bear alone.”

Joel nodded, the knot of tension in his chest loosening just a bit. “Thanks, Tommy. I appreciate it. I just... I needed to hear that.”

Tommy clapped Joel on the shoulder, a gesture of solidarity and support. “Anytime. Just remember, if you need anything, if you need to talk, I’m here. For both of you.”

***

In the weeks following the decision to make your relationship with Joel public, you found yourselves navigating a new reality in Jackson. The once familiar streets now felt charged with curiosity and speculation. You walked through the bustling market and communal areas of the town, your hands entwined, openly displaying your affection for each other.

The reactions from the community were varied. Some greeted your union with open arms, offering congratulations and warm smiles. Others were more reserved, their curiosity evident in their glances and whispered conversations. You and Joel faced these moments with a combination of resilience and humor. Your quick wit was particularly effective at easing the discomfort of those around you.

One sunny afternoon, while you were browsing through the market stalls, an elderly woman approached you both with a skeptical look. She raised an eyebrow, peering at you from beneath a wide-brimmed hat. “So, you two are an item now?” she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution.

You turned to face her, a playful smile spreading across your face. “Yep, that’s right. Joel here is my favorite person to argue with,” you said, giving Joel a mischievous look.

Joel smirked, adding, “And she’s the one who keeps me grounded. Can’t have one without the other.”

The woman’s stern expression softened into a smile. “Well, that’s a refreshing way to look at things. Congratulations then,” She patted Joel on the shoulder and ambled away, leaving behind a sense of acceptance.

As your relationship grew, so did the depth of your connection. You and Joel became more attuned to each other’s needs and emotions. Your bond was tested and strengthened through shared experiences and mutual support. Each day brought new challenges, but facing them together made your partnership even more resilient.

One particularly trying day, after a demanding patrol that left Joel physically and emotionally drained, he returned home to find you waiting for him. The sight of you, with a warm meal and an understanding smile, was a balm to his weary spirit.

As you sat down to eat, Joel hesitated before speaking, his voice barely above a whisper. “Today was rough, Ash. I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

Your eyes softened with concern. You reached across the table, your hand covering his. “You’re stronger than you think, Joel. We all have days that test us, but you’re not alone in this. I’m here with you, every step of the way.”

Joel met your gaze, the exhaustion in his eyes slowly giving way to a glimmer of relief. “I don’t know how I’d manage without you,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

You squeezed his hand, your expression resolute. “You don’t have to manage alone. We’ve got each other. That’s what matters.”

Your relationship was not all about serious moments; it was also filled with lightheartedness and affection. Your playful banter and shared humor brought a sense of normalcy and joy into your lives.

One morning, as you prepared breakfast together, the kitchen was filled with the usual clatter of pots and pans. You were juggling two eggs and a fresh stick of butter when, in a moment of clumsiness, you dropped the eggs across the floor. Joel, standing nearby, couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well, looks like we’re having eggs for breakfast and a side of floor clean-up,” Joel said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You rolled your eyes, picking up the scattered pieces with a smirk. “I’m just adding a bit of excitement to our otherwise boring mornings. Keeps things interesting, don’t you think?”

Joel leaned against the counter, shaking his head with an amused grin. “You and your ideas of excitement. I guess I should be grateful for the change.”

Later, as the day drew to a close and the sun dipped below the horizon, you and Joel found yourselves on the porch, enjoying the tranquility of the evening. You sat close together, the warmth of your bodies and the fading light creating a cozy atmosphere.

Joel wrapped an arm around you, pulling you gently against him. “You know,” he said quietly, “for all the chaos and challenges, I wouldn’t trade these moments with you for anythin’.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice was soft and content. “Me neither. We’ve built something really special here. It’s worth fighting for, no matter what comes our way.”

As you sat together in the fading light, your bond felt stronger than ever. The shared laughter, mutual support, and tender moments of connection were the foundation of your relationship. In the midst of a world fraught with uncertainty, you and Joel had found a precious refuge in each other, a testament to the enduring power of love, humor, and unwavering support.

[odoraful]

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓

wriothesley has been hesitant to tell you about his past, afraid that it will tarnish your view of him. reconciling with this is no easy task, but he has you by his side to guide him

content: wriothesley x gn!reader; established relationship; 'baby' pet name; reader and wriothesley live together; nightmare sequence; mentions of blood; spoilers to wrio story quest!; reader doesn't know the full truth of wriothesley's past; wriothesley worried about how good of a partner he is :( ; hurt/comfort; reverse comfort; 4k words

a/n: i just wanna gently hold wriothesley and tell him that he's doing so well <3 also i give full credit to critical role and the wonderful talisen jaffe for the quote "pain doesn't make people, it's love that makes people"

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Before opening his eyes, Wriothesley smelled iron. Pungent and pervasive. It filled his nostrils and sunk unpleasantly in his churning stomach. He knew he was lying on his back on a cold, hard surface, but that was about as much information he was certain about. Where he was or how he ended up in this state escaped him.

He tested his other senses. Every swallow of saliva went down like sand in his throat. His fingers were limp as he tried squeezing them into fists, the strength siphoned out of him. Slowly regaining some sense of himself again, he could finally label what the scent was. Blood.

At that realisation, he peeled opened his eyes, dreading the scene he would find himself in. A scene he knew that would be painfully similar to memories he quashed a long time ago. He grimly thought whether the blood would be trailing from his hands, or already dried up beneath him, a red dye stained on the floorboards. The lights above accosted him, dazzling his vision. Fontainian households were always so bright, and it didn’t help that the walls of them were white too. But, even then, there were always nooks and crannies shrouded in darkness. Wriothesley found that the more glittering lights there were, the darker the shadows they casted.

He sat up with a groan, his body the weight of bricks. Looking around, there was no such scene he imagined before him. The room he was in was… ordinary. Pristine white walls lined with book shelves against spotless light timber flooring. A fireplace was tucked between two shelves, where the hearth held blackened remnants of burned wood. Wriothesley was situated on the floor between the fireplace and two brown cushioned sofas facing each other separated by a low table. He swore there were other furnishings in the room, but for some reason he couldn’t focus on them. The edges of his vision blurred and he couldn’t make out any other details besides what was most salient.

It wasn’t necessary though.

He knew where he was.

He was almost even in the exact spot they found him slumped in when he was a boy. Back rested against a bookshelf, hollow eyes gazing into the distance. The officers were unable to hide the pure shock on their faces at the grisly tableau in front of them.

Bile rose in Wriothesley’s throat. Despite there being no evidence of violence, the scent of blood lingered in the air, filling his lungs. He went to stand, the movement ungraceful and slow, as if he were swimming in the ocean with thick layers of clothing on. Lying on the floor wouldn’t do well for his nausea. He walked towards to sofa to sit and assess this situation. Sinking into the cushions, he rubbed his temples with his hands.

He thought this house had long since been torn down. How had he been taken back to his old home? His mind sharply retracted those words. No, he wouldn’t call it that. Home was a place of safety and love, but the place he grew up in was built on a foundation of lies and malice. The only small glimmer of home he could recall was his bonds with his siblings.

“█████.”

A voice whispered from just beside his ear, as if speaking a secret.

Wriothesley’s skin prickled. His head snapped around, but he was only met with empty space.

Impossible, he thought. No one who should know that name. He buried it a long time ago when he was handcuffed to the bed in that emergency ward. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. Digging up memories of his past.

“█████, where did you go?”

This time, a different, more louder voice came from the opposite direction. Wriothesley could make out its qualities—young and wistful. It was that of a child.

Wriothesley was not often scared. When someone like him had seen both the worst and best of what life had to offer, he was seldom caught off guard. Even backed into a corner, there was always a way out for him. A few carefully chosen words was his preferred method, but now, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Hearing that name being said aloud chilled him to his bones. The colour drew from his face, skin turning ghast-like. He was terrified.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

A young girl sniffled, sounding on the verge of tears. Wriothesley scanned the room frantically, trying to find the source of the voices.

“Why did you leave us?”

A young boy this time. Familiarity clawed at the back of Wriothesley’s mind. His eyes bulged in horror.

“█████, we miss you.”

“You said we would play together.”

“They took some of us away.”

“█████, will you ever come back?”

Wriothesley covered his ears, but it did little to quiet the ceaseless voices. Multiple of them spoke at once, rising in urgency, surging around him. Overlapping and defeaning, burrowing into his skull no matter how hard he squeezed and squeezed his ears shut. He was backed into a corner with no way out. He screamed in his head, roaring in agony. He couldn’t stay here, he needed out.

Hearing the pleading of his own mind, Wriothesley jolted awake.

Like a conductor ending a symphony with the close of their hand, the cacophony of voices abruptly stopped.

Void-like silence met him in the waking world.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He felt his heart lodged in his throat, as if he had been pushed off the tallest point of the Palais Mermonia. Steadying his shallow breathing, he pushed his back further into the bedsheets, trying to ground himself.

Just a dream, just a dream. He repeated, sighing loudly. His bedroom had never been a more welcome sight as he sat up, careful not to awake his resting partner. At least, that’s where you should have been. There was no weight of your body beside him. He swept a hand over the bed, and made contact only with the sheets and crumpled quilt blanket.

Still reeling from the terrors of his dream, Wriothesley’s mind drew the worse conclusions. Had you been taken? Had you left him? Panicked, he began to call out your name. His voice was hoarse, but he was glad he could speak after being robbed of it in his dream.

A triangle of yellow light cut into the darkness of the room as the door cracked opened. Relief flooded him seeing you standing there, wrapped in a fluffy robe, hair ruffled.

“Baby, is everything alright?” You asked softly, approaching the bed.

Wriothesley’s chest rose and fell in quick intervals. His body arched over like a crooked branch, shivering ever so slightly. Alarms blared inside you. You had never seen him in this state before.

“I- I thought you had gone somewhere,” he said, voice quavering.

The mattress dipped as you sat atop, kneeling beside him. “I didn’t leave.” You lay a hand on him, watching closely at his expression with a furrowed brow. “I’m here, I’m here,” you soothed gently, rubbing small circles into his shoulder.

He gave into your touch, his posture easing. Seeing him slowly relax, you raised your hands to cradle his face. Warmth radiated through him, expelling whatever anxieties had possessed him. His breath shuddered. Immediately, he nuzzled into your touch, burying his face in the faint scent of soap and lilies. He could stay here forever. It would be all he needed to revitalise his senses and keep him alive. He covered one of your hands with his own, encompassing it completely. His calloused fingers slid between yours—a sensation that contrasted against the softness of his lips as he kissed the inside of your palm. A feather-like touch that caused the butterflies in your stomach to flutter.

“I was just in the bathroom.” You reassured him. Wriothesley hummed in response. “Did something happen?”

He hesitated, wondering how much he should tell you.

“I just had a nightmare.” His voice was muffled, lips grazing your skin as he spoke. “It was nothing, really.”

You gently turned his head towards yours, prompting him to focus on you. “It doesn’t seem like nothing to me.”

His heart stung at the pure concern on your face. Different from the times when you tended to him when he injured himself whilst boxing, or when you saw him passed out at his desk from his persistent workload. There was desperation layered in your knitted brows and parted lips.

“Let me get you a glass of water.” You said, caressing his face. Hints of stubble brushed under the pads of your thumbs. “You’ll feel a little better after being hydrated.”

Coldness returned to his cheeks as you pulled away. You couldn’t even turn around before Wriothesley’s hands were on you once again. He snaked his arms around your waist, embracing you tightly.

“Don’t go.” He rasped. “Please, stay with me.”

His pleading tugged at your heartstrings. As much as you wanted to stay in his arms, you could tell from his voice just how dry his throat was. “I won’t be far from you. I’ll be gone only for a moment.” You kissed his forehead, sealing your promise.

You waited until he loosened his hold on you (albeit begrudgingly), and hurried out of the room to fetch some water. Wriothesley leaned against the bedhead. His head was clearer now, and he tuned his hearing to the far-away whir of machinery in the Fortress.

He was glad to have a shared room with you away from his working environment. This was an entirely new floor he had extended above his office. The design of which began after he had seen you curled up in sleep on one of his chairs, waiting for him to finish his duties for the day. Resting somewhere backgrounded by piles of administrative paperwork didn’t make for the most relaxing setting. And so, he swiftly drafted plans to create private quarters for the two of you.

After a long day, he would head straight upstairs to meet you. You’d be there snuggled on the lounge with a novel, and his footfalls would be enough for you to abandon your book on the table and rush over to the door. Now, while the sun could not be seen in the stronghold beneath the waves, it found its place with you. In the way your smile beamed and eyes twinkled as you greeted him. You were so, so bright, and yet he could never look away. At first, it almost startled him how easy you gave your love to him. There was no ulterior motive with you. You loved him wholly.

He sadly wondered how quickly your glimmer would fade if he revealed parts of him that had never seen the light.

The tapping of your slippers approached the door, and you entered with a glass and pitcher of water. Placing them both on the bedside table, you poured water into the glass and handed it to him. Wriothesley didn’t realise how parched he was until he took the first sip. Eagerly chugging the rest down, he you in the corner of his eye, chewing on your bottom lip. You were on the cusp of saying something.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, taking the empty glass from his hands and putting it to the side.

“Your dream that is…” You faltered through your words. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you seemed upset when you woke up.”

More than upset, you thought to yourself, afraid.

Wriothesley reached out for you wrist. You let him guide you into bed, slipping under the blankets. He pulled you in closer, arm draped around your waist, until your bodies were flush with each other. Your expectant gaze fell on him. He plastered on an assuring smile, but couldn’t quite draw the corners of his lips up to reach his eyes.

“I was only a bit shaken,” he replied, keeping his tone light. “It had things relating to my past. My subconscious must have it out for me for not letting me get a good night’s rest.” Hopefully that was enough to mollify the true contents of his dream.

You toyed with the edge of the blanket. Wriothesley’s past was something he didn’t divulge in too much detail. Even after being together for some time, all you knew was that his childhood was a difficult time, and he had to run away from his foster parents home. You had a good sense that he no longer wished to recall these events from the way he was quick to brush off the topic. It was hard for you to balance between wanting to know more, and also respecting his privacy.

“You know that you can tell me about anything that’s bothering you, right?”

Your eyes never left his, watching the way they brimmed with fondness as he answered.

“Of course I know that baby, it’s just that…” His eyes casted downwards.

In his line of work, keeping up a poker-face meant keeping things under control. However, with you, he never hid his true emotions, and you saw conflict dance across his features.

“I’m worried it might change how you see me,” he confessed, fidgeting with his fingers as if he were itching to move.

“Wriothesley,” you covered a hand over his, halting his movement, “nothing will make me change the way I see you now. You aren’t the same person as you were back when you were young.”

Those words settled in his mind, prodding at the uncertainties he had about opening up. You continued,

“You can share anything about your past with me. And, what is it they say…” You tried to recall a line you had read recently. “A burden shared is a burden halved?”

He couldn’t fight back a smile, teeth peeking out from beneath his lips. “Putting those philosophical books you’re reading to use?”

“Actually, it’s a collection of poetry from Mondstadt.” You corrected, pursing your lips smugly.

He breathed a laugh, spirits lightening at how endearing his partner was.

From the day he selected a new name for himself, he chose to begin anew. Although he knew that nothing in his past constituted any part of his life now, it still clung to him. A fog clouding his mind during moments of solitude, drawing out doubts that stumbled into the open. If he did tell you the full truth, would you see him as nothing more than someone raised in a loveless place? Who was pushed to do what many considered unthinkable? Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled slowly—ruminating.

You calmly awaited his next words, knowing that you would accept both if he chose to tell you or not.

Wriothesley spoke again,

“I mentioned to you before that I didn’t have the most… peaceful childhood.”

You nodded, grim at the thought of what those adults had done to those innocent children. “Mmm, you told me about your foster parents, and how you ran away from them.”

“Yes, but that’s not the whole truth.”

Pausing, he steeled himself. He caught on a thread that had long since been loose and began to unravel his past.

“After I escaped, I couldn’t shake off the guilt of abandoning my siblings, but there was also no way I could stay in that household after what I had learned.”

He recounted the story in the same way one would read aloud an article published by The Steambird. So separated from his past that he had little inflection in his tone. Even so, you saw a flare of emotion in Wriothesley’s eyes.

“So, I tried to keep myself alive and tried to get stronger, so that I could return and protect them.”

“Archons,” he bowed his head, dark hair falling over his brows, “I don’t even know how much time passed out there, everything seemed to blend together.”

You felt an ache in your chest, like someone had tightly gripped your heart. “I can’t imagine how tough it must have been.” Picturing a younger Wriothesley in your head, frightened and alone, made you shiver.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “It was.” He returned a sad smile to you, though regret laced his words. “I wouldn’t wish that life for anybody, but I did learn a lot.”

“I snuck back into the house after a while of being on the streets. I-“ He rubbed his temple with his free hand, unable to find the right words. “One of my siblings told me that while I was gone, a few of them had been… adopted into other families.”

Your skin turned cold, knowing exactly what that meant.

“I-I think I heard their voices in my dream.” His voice wavered, face scrunching up as he remembered those ghostly voices in that empty room. “They were asking why I left them there, wondering where I was.”

You squeezed his hand. “But you did return. You swore that you would come back for them and you did,” you asserted.

Shaking his head, he turned his hand over to interlock your fingers with his. “Perhaps I was too late.”

“I found my foster parents sitting happily in the drawing room, and suddenly, I felt so, so angry.” His expression turned sombre, staring down at the blanket covering you two. “At them, at myself, at the world, and something snapped in me and I did the only thing I felt I could do in that moment.”

A heaviness tugged down on his chest as if in protest at the continuation of his sentence. But, there would be no hiding it now. He swallowed thickly.

“I killed them.”

The words left his lips in a whisper, and hung in the space between you.

You stilled. The faint beating of your heart could be felt between your hand in his.

Sensing your stiffness, Wriothesley forced himself to look at you, searching your face in the hopes of finding any kind of reaction. He half expected you to pull away in terror. Disillusioned at the fact that your partner was a murderer. But, he found no such revulsion. Instead, your eyes glossy with tears captured a sadness so sincere and profound that his heart shattered into pieces, piercing him from the inside out.

“It was a long time ago.” With every word he spoke, the shards seemed to dig deeper. “And I definitely don’t associate myself with that person anymore.”

“But, I understand if this changes how you see me. If you need time away-”

“Don’t say that,” you interrupted, shaking your head fervently.

You blinked, tears lining your lower lashes. The sight of your partner blurred slightly in your vision, his face contorted in pain. You understood. The distance he wanted to put between you was merely a façade. Buried beneath it was a wordless plea for you to stay. He had bared everything to you, and you would not let him hurt by himself any longer.

“It doesn’t change how I feel towards you.” Determination rose in your cracked voice. “You were so young. No child should ever be placed in a position like that.”

Surely, there must be some part of him that agreed. Some part that would allow forgiveness. Wriothesley’s gaze flicked between your eyes, lost in your expression, as was you in his. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“I-I can’t be the one to say whether it was the right thing to do,” you continued, “but what I do know is that you were just a child who needed to survive and wanted to protect those you cared about.”

How many people had treated him with kindness as a child? It upset you to think of all the adults that turned their backs on him. Reducing his character to only what they saw on a case report. Likely considering him to be nothing more than a psychopath. Your pulse thumped in your ears at the injustice of it.

“You are not who you were in the past.” You said slowly, enunciating every word. “Pain doesn’t make people, Wriothesley. It’s love that makes people.”

His expression melted softly. The creases between his brows smoothing.

“And I know that you love and care so strongly, you’ve shown me that every single day.”

Icy blue eyes held so much affection as he stared back at you—transfixed. Now more than ever did he believe you were the sun to him. Basking in your warmth, feeling the comfort of it tingle his skin. What you had said to him had begun to sink in. However, while he couldn’t refute your words, the mindset he had formed could not be altered in a single moment. Perhaps he would not completely believe your words now, but that was alright. You would be there by his side every day to remind him.

Clearing his throat, Wriothesley tested out if his voice was still fit to speak. Though this room was private to the two of you, he spoke quietly, as if he craved only your attention.

“When I was serving my sentence here, I always dreamed about what my new home would be."

He recalled the confinement of his cell, and how his mind would drift from counting the bolts in the metal wall to imagining a new life for himself. Wanting a place that was safe and people he felt at peace with felt like a mirage to him. However, if he could go back in time and speak to his younger self in that cell, he would tell him that things would turn out alright. The journey would not be without difficulties, but he would finally be in a place where he no longer had to look over his shoulder, fearing for his safety. And, he would be with someone who would be proud to call him their love.

“I think I found it here, with you.”

He took the chance to close the distance between you two. His forehead rested against yours. You closed your eyes.

“I love you, Wriothesley,” you whispered, instinctively.

His breath caught in his throat. How fortunate he was to have you in his life. Not only to receive your endless love, but to learn just how capable of loving he is.

He whispered back in reply, his breath gently fanning across your cheeks. “I love you too.”

Neither of you broke away, staying in this position for a moment. Everything had been untangled before you, and a odd mixture of both sorrow and solace stirred inside you. Sorrow at listening to what Wriothesley had gone through as a boy, and solace at how tender the man before you was, his hair tickling against your forehead.

You continued to speak softly to each other for a while longer. The conversation floated from his time at the Fortress to how he became its administrator. As he spoke, the accuracy of the quote you shared before was confirmed in the inexplicable lightness he felt in his chest. A burden shared is a burden halved, he recited to himself.

Time drew on, and you both sensed that if you didn’t sleep now, you’d be up until the Fortress’ inmates began their morning shifts. Curling up beside each other, you asked to play big spoon this time so he could fall asleep easier. Though he was taller in stature to you, you insisted on it. If it were a different day, he probably would have put up a greater fight, but there was little argument in him now at the chance of being wrapped up in your arms. He was lulled to rest by your rhythmic inhales and exhales. The night quietened, and no more voices followed him in slumber.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

post a/n: thank you for making it to the hidden easter egg author note haha, i appreciate you greatly, and i hope it was an enjoyable read!!! 🥺 i just wanted to yap about my thought process writing this piece. you definitely don't have to read all this, it's primarily for my own notetaking! <3

i felt like this was probably one of the hardest pieces i've written so far (?) i found it tough to build up that tension of reader not knowing wriothesley's full past and him still grappling with his actions as a young boy, and even what that dialogue would look like! i had to step away and come back a few times just so i could look at this with a fresh pair of eyes. it may not be perfect but i'm glad to have finished this! :')

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

fem plus size mutant!reader, wc: 664.

a/n: OH ME OH MY!!! i haven't written for a new character in so long! it's so refreshing!! forgive me if logan is a bit ooc and a lot of things probably don't make sense, i'm still in the process of watching the movies so i tried to keep things as vague as possibly aside from the spoilers i've been given! i have fallen so deeply in love with this man so he will definitely be making an apperance on this acc more! ty for your request! @hicanivent

You never thought in all your years of living, you would be the one thing that managed to scare away Logan, and all it took was a kiss.

Maybe it was your fault or possibly the tension that had surrounded the two of you since you had joined the mutant school as another professor.

Either way, what was done is done, and you couldn’t sleep.

You stared up at your roof which was decorated with all sorts of plant vines. Though you were a mutant as well, your ability was minor. You were able to manipulate plants; you could make them move, grow, or wilt. It was nothing too impressive, but the children enjoyed your gardening class.

Gardening wasn’t the only thing you taught, there was also the history of different herbs and species of plants and how they were used throughout time. 

That’s where your dilemma of insomnia lies. With an aching heart and an active brain, essays sat delicately on your desk in your classroom, and you were contemplating on whether or not you should just grade them. The kids weren’t expecting them back anytime soon, but what else were you to do?

A part of you is afraid that maybe you’ll run into Logan stalking through the halls like he does sometimes when his brain gets too loud. It was like he always had something to run from, and somehow he’d always find himself knocking on your door at all hours of the night. Sometimes he wouldn’t even talk, just sit there and find comfort in your presence.

You weren’t ashamed to say that you’re worried about him, but Logan was probably the most stubborn man you had ever met, so if he didn’t want to do something, you couldn’t force him. Sometimes you wish you could.

You threw your blankets off of your body, sitting on the edge of the bed and held your head in your hands. You felt the exhaustion seeping into your bones and you let out a prolonged sigh.

A hesitant knock on your door pulled you out of your tired stupor, your head shooting up in alarm.

You honestly thought it was one of the kids, definitely not a very shaken up looking Logan.

A very bitter part of you wanted to turn him away, but a very extremely soft part of you – the part that was in love with him – led you to open up the door wider with a small encouraging smile on your face.

He looked unsure for a moment before breaking through the threshold. 

“I’m sorry.”  Was the first thing he had said before you even had a chance to turn around after shutting the door.

He was standing in the middle of your room, the midnight glow shining through your window casted an enchanting shadow against the naked skin of his arms that was exposed by his classic plain white undershirt. 

You don’t know how you managed to speak through the dryness of your throat.

“It’s okay.” You spoke quietly, looking up at him through tired eyes. “No it’s not.” He denied. You approached him slowly before you cupped his cheek. “But Logan, it is.”

Your words had a plethora of meanings behind them, that you forgive him, that you were waiting until he was ready. 

You stare at each other for a moment, his large battle worn hands rest on the plumpness of your hips, and the supernatural warmth of his body sends a pleasant shiver up your spine.

“If I kiss you, are you going to run away again?” You joke, breaking the intense atmosphere. 

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips ever so slightly. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around this time.”

Logan doesn’t give you time to retort because he had already found himself kissing you, the scruff of his mutton chops scratching at your cheeks ever so slightly. It tickled and you giggled, smiling into his mouth.

You felt him smile too.

[inkspiredwriting]

The Diner of Destiny - Part 2

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Okay, some of you wanted a second part. So I thought why not? I've never written a second part to any of my stories, so I'm not so sure if the second part is any good.

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6, angst

Five wandered through the fractured remains of countless timelines, driven by a singular purpose: to find y/n, the woman he had unwittingly erased from existence. He had become a phantom, slipping between realities like a shadow, his resolve hardening with each failed attempt. Every timeline, every world was a dead end, a cruel reminder of the life he had obliterated with one careless choice. But giving up was never an option. He had to find her.

Weeks blurred into months as he tirelessly pursued the faintest hints of her existence. Fragmented memories, distorted whispers, and fleeting visions of a woman whose face he had never truly known. Each clue led him deeper into the labyrinth of time, and each step weighed heavier on his conscience. He was close—he could feel it.

Finally, one day, in a timeline that felt strangely still, as though it had been waiting for his arrival, Five found her.

She was sitting in a small, secluded garden, surrounded by overgrown ivy and vibrant flowers. The sun cast a warm, golden light over the scene, but there was an air of melancholy that clung to the place, as if it remembered the things that had been lost. Y/n was there, her back to him, her head bowed as she absentmindedly traced patterns in the dirt with a stick. She looked almost like a statue—beautiful, but untouchable, frozen in a moment that he had shattered.

Five approached her cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. His footsteps crunched softly on the gravel path, and y/n looked up, startled. Her eyes met his, and for a brief, agonizing moment, it was as though she recognized him. But then the flicker of familiarity vanished, replaced by confusion.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice tinged with wariness but not fear. There was a gentleness in her tone that cut Five deeper than any anger could have.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, and for the first time in a long time, he hesitated. How could he explain the unimaginable? How could he make her understand what he had done?

“My name is Five,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not sure how to say this, but… you were supposed to be someone important to me. To all of us, actually. But I made a mistake, a terrible mistake, and I… I lost you.”

Y/n’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of his words. “Lost me? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. We’ve never met before. How could you have lost me?”

Five’s chest tightened with the weight of his guilt. “You’re right. We’ve never met. But we should have. I was supposed to find you, fall in love with you. You were supposed to be my anchor, the person who kept me—and all the other versions of me—grounded across the timelines. But instead, I got involved with someone else, someone named Lila.”

At the mention of Lila’s name, Y/n’s expression softened, but only slightly. “Lila?” she echoed, the name unfamiliar and distant.

Five nodded, his voice trembling. “Yes. I thought I was making the right choice at the time, but it was the wrong one. Choosing Lila… it erased you from our lives. You were supposed to be there, and because of me, you weren’t. I took away your life, your future, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late.”

Y/n stared at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deception or malice. But all she saw was a man haunted by his mistakes, a man who had come to her not for forgiveness, but for something even more elusive.

“What do you want from me?” she asked quietly, her voice laced with a sorrow she didn’t fully understand.

Five closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the strength to continue. “I don’t know if I can make things right, but I had to find you. I had to tell you what happened, even if it doesn’t change anything. I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry for what I took from you, for what I took from all of us. I just… I wanted you to know that you mattered. That you were supposed to matter.”

Y/n looked down at the ground, her hand still clutching the stick. She was silent for a long time, and Five feared that his words had only hurt her more, that there was nothing left to say. But then, she spoke, her voice soft and distant.

“Do you really believe we could have been happy?” she asked, almost to herself.

Five’s heart ached at the question, at the lost possibility of what could have been. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “But I would have liked to find out.”

Y/n nodded, her expression unreadable. “I can’t remember you,” she said softly. “But something in me feels… something. Maybe it’s just the idea of what could have been. Or maybe… maybe there’s something more.”

Five watched her, his breath catching in his throat. This was it—the moment that could change everything. But even as hope flickered within him, he knew the truth. He had come too late. The damage was done, and there was no going back.

“I wish I could change what happened,” he whispered. “But all I can do is tell you the truth. You deserved so much more than what I left you with.”

Y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with a sadness that went beyond words. “Maybe we were never meant to be,” she said quietly. “Maybe… maybe this was always how it was supposed to end.”

Five shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “No. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. But it’s what I’ve made it. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Y/n stood slowly, the stick falling from her hand as she faced him fully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I appreciate that you tried to make things right. Even if it’s too late.”

Five nodded, the tears finally spilling over as he met her gaze. “I’ll never stop trying to make it right,” he vowed. “Even if I never see you again, I’ll keep looking for a way to fix this.”

Y/n gave him a small, sad smile, the kind of smile that spoke of acceptance and resignation. “Goodbye, Five,” she said softly. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, her figure growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the distance. Five stood there, alone in the garden, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He had found her, but he had also lost her—again.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the garden in a blanket of twilight, Five knew that this was his burden to bear. He had made a choice, and now he would live with the consequences for the rest of his existence. The woman who was supposed to be his anchor, his salvation, was gone, and he was the one who had pushed her away.

And so, with a heavy heart and a mind full of regrets, Five turned and walked back into the shadows, disappearing from the world that could have been his. The timelines would go on, fractured and unstable, and he would continue his endless search for redemption. But deep down, he knew the truth—some things could never be undone. And some losses were meant to be permanent.

The garden, now empty and silent, bore witness to a moment that had passed, a possibility that had slipped through time’s fingers. And as the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, Five’s silhouette faded into the night, carrying with him the memory of what could have been, and the sorrow of what never was.

[nelle-y]

I loved your recent Alhaitham fic! I was wondering if you would consider writing a pt. 2 where Alhaitham regrets how he treated you and attempts to win you back (maybe 4ggravate finds out and attempts to help Alhaitham to win you back)? I understand if not. Thank you for sharing your writing!

Thank you so much for liking my first fic! Feel free to request anything genshin-related and I’ll try my best to provide!

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath (pt. 2)

It was rare, I was there

Here’s part 1!

Synopsis: despite the neglect and everything that happened, you both still longed for each other…

Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, wingmen!4ggravate, implied Dehyarzad, Collei, absent Cyno, Tighnari, second chances, writer!reader, angst to comfort, reader is with someone else

Warnings: slight cursing, long intro again (I can’t help it), mild spoilers for Sumeru archon quest chapter 3 act 2, Collei goes missing

Note: this part can be optional for you. If you prefer to end it at part one, then feel free to do so! But, if you’re a sucker for second chances (like me), then consider this a treat from me to you!

—

Nothing. You could hear nothing.

Not your heart pounding to the rhythm of your feet. Not the screaming in your head as you spotted familiar grey hair walking around the city. Your thoughts immediately tasted bitter—if he had the time to walk now, how come he hadn’t back then?

You surmise that you weren’t worth the step.

The weight of his absence hung over you like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the warmth of the day. Despite your efforts to push the pain aside, it crept back, heavy and suffocating. Your mother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting refrain, a reminder that perhaps you had been foolish to invest so much in someone who couldn't reciprocate your love.

The shops were as busy and ever; merchant services, inquiries about products, scholars out in the open. You were out for groceries, almost ashamed for showing your face after the scene you caused 15 days ago. The world needed to know you were strong, though, so you put a big smile on your face and a new perfume worth Alhaitham’s salary. You even reached out to Cyno about the book you mentioned; so far, everything has been accurate, according to him.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called to you. Turning your head in that direction, you see Dehya in the distance waving at you. Once you’ve said hello, she looked at you with a smirk on her face, “Wow, did a flower barf on you? You look radiant!”

“Radiant?” You humble yourself, “I don’t remember putting on any jewelry.”

“No, silly!” She gestured to your everything, “There’s this aura you’re emitting and it’s making you glow!” Glow? All you did these past few days was cry, eat, and write. Perhaps it was the tears that helped. They irritated your eyes so much it gave you a softer, more approachable look. “Do you think you could lend me some of that eyeshadow?”

Try crying every hour, Dehya. “Ah, I just did a favor for a friend studying cosmetology. I’m not entirely sure what products they used,” you lie. Thinking about Alhaitham will certainly eat you alive; you change the subject despite the flattery you enjoyed. “What brings you to the city?”

Enthusiasm spouts from the mercenary, “My lady Dunyarzad invited me over for the Sabzeruz Festival; and you know me, I gotta be there for my lady!”

You found it adorable—almost enviable—how they still keep in touch even after Dehya’s resignation. Call a spade a spade, that is real commitment. It makes you wonder if you’d be here, ‘radiant’ and ‘glowing,’ if you were treated that way.

“The Sabzeruz Festival? I didn’t realize it was so close. Wow, time surely flies.” Suddenly, you feel excitement rush through your veins, a new experience after days of steady tides.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Dehya. From a distance, you both heard Dunyarzad call her name. “Ah, it looks like she needs me back there. I better go check on her. If you want, you should totally come over the bazaar once the festival is ready. Dunyarzad and I would be lucky to have you celebrate with us!” After you gave an accepting nod and farewell, Dehya ran off to the woman in purple, practically skipping on her feet.

As you watched their lively interaction, a surge of envy and longing swept through you. Their easy camaraderie and genuine happiness a stark contrast to the emptiness and loneliness gnawing at your insides. You had longed to experience that kind of connection, to be enveloped in the warmth of love and companionship once more. But deep down, you knew it was a distant dream, a fantasy you could never reclaim.

You weren’t a religious person, but out of sheer desperation, you prayed.

Lesser Lord Kusanali, please free me from this torment. Let the flowers in my garden bloom of life, let the fruits grow ripe even without much sun, let the trees reach the highest of buildings.

—

Simple greetings and little nods, Alhaitham wouldn’t have minded if those scholars were you. In fact, instead of returning those nods and hellos, he would embrace you, lift your feet off the ground and spin you around like you always wanted.

After you stormed out the tavern, Cyno went ahead and asked what happened to the both of you. For the first time, he couldn’t give a straight answer. Every excuse seemed to damage your image, and that was the last thing he wanted. Kaveh ended up taking over to save him the embarrassment.

The 15 days he burned for you were like falling into the abyss, fighting every day to the brink of death, unable to eat the sustenance that came from your warmth.

The now Scribe Alhaitham needed something to keep you off his mind. He considered attending a meeting, but none seemed to pique his interest. Every thought ended up on your doorstep, making him think of dropping by. “Kaveh,” he called the architect scribbling on his notebook, “have you seen Y/N, as of late?”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well these past few weeks. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting?”

“Shouldn’t you be paying rent?”

Kaveh cursed at Alhaitham, “I’m trying to make the money, goddamit!”

“Maybe you would have the money if you stopped settling for your clients’ low budgets.”

“Is it hard to find me considerate?”

“I’d rather call it pathetic.”

“Go catch whatever Y/N has,” he shooed Alhaitham away, “maybe that would give you some perspective.”

The scribe stood silent for a few seconds. He knew his roommate was right, he should’ve thought about how you felt before anything. Kaveh was about to believe he had won a squabble for once, but then he suddenly revealed, “Y/N… is angry at me.”

Kaveh pshawed at him, “With the way you talked to her? No shit.” Alhaitham didn’t move an inch. “Hey, what happened there, anyway? It wasn’t like Y/N to burst out to you like that. Are you hiding something?”

With a sigh, the grey-haired man decided to reveal everything to his roommate. He listened intently, gasping and scolding him for his lack of attention towards you, adding salt to his open wounds. Upon recalling the words the scribe had said, Kaveh took a slight breath, “You fucked up.”

“I know.”

“You need to go fix this.”

“I know.”

“And you were calling me pathetic!”

“I know! I just-“ he couldn’t believe he was saying this. “I need help.”

As he was popularly known, Alhaitham wasn’t one to ask for help. Not because he had too much pride, but because he knew how to solve things like the back of his hand. He had access to numerous files from the Akasha, and he had connections to powerful people, being the scribe and all.

But this was a different situation. Every solution did not guarantee a 100% success rate, 87% at best, and that was not enough for Alhaitham. He was ready to do anything for you, to get on his knees and raise you to the highest regard, to even beg.

“I could ask Tighnari,” Kaveh began, “The Sabzeruz Festival is coming soon, maybe you could ask her out?”

Right, now that he’s perceived as a hero of his nation, he is expected to attend these festivals. He never bothered to come before, and he wouldn’t now, but he was willing to if it meant getting to see you again. “I don’t think she’ll be accepting me as her date.”

“Then we’ll talk to her.”

“Will she be willing to listen? Wait, isn’t she sick?”

Kaveh sighed, downhearted, “Right.” Then he clicked his fingers at the scribe, “I have an idea!”

—

“Collei? What are you doing here,” you said after opening your door. She drew a small grin with worried eyes, holding a box of goods for you. It’s been a while since you saw her, she grew up well, taller since your last meeting.

“Hello, miss Y/N! I heard from Master Tighnari that you weren’t feeling well,” yes, you distinctly remember lying to them (Tighnari, and Kaveh) so they wouldn’t see you as often. “So I thought I could bring you simple remedies.” The little girl observed you. “But now I think there’s no need for that,” she chuckled.

“Ah, yeah, don’t worry, it was just a small cold. Speaking of Tighnari, how come he isn’t here with you?” You ushered her in and sat her down for some tea, placing her box of medicines on the counter.

“He had some business to attend to with a merchant and allowed me to visit you. It’s been a while since you’ve travelled to Gandharva Ville, miss Y/N, do you have any plans on visiting?”

“Yes, I’m thinking of basing the rainforest as the main setting for my new book, actually.”

You both chatted about everything you could as you waited for the water to boil. Afterwards, you served a hot teapot, dwelling in mint and lotus herbs. “Ah, Collei, how long are you and Tighnari staying in the city?”

“Just for three days, though I would like to stay until after the Sabzeruz Festival,” she chuckles, holding her now warm cup in her hands.

“You could come with me if Tighnari would allow it.”

The little girl’s eyes beamed with stars, “Really? Oh, I’ve been dreaming of going to one for ages! Miss Nilou will be performing, right?” You nod to her delight, “Yes! Archons, I really hope Master would let me.”

As if he heard his name, Tighnari knocked on your door. Opening it, he looked glad seeing your healthy state. “Y/N! Good to see you’re feeling well now.” He peaked behind you to see Collei sip from her cup.

Upon recognizing her master, Collei got up and greeted him. “Hi, Master! Miss Y/N and I were just talking about the Sabzeruz Festival, and that I could come with her to see Miss Nilou perform!” Her enthusiasm was as contagious as a cold, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“As long as it wouldn’t be a hassle for Y/N, and that you would always be careful when purchasing products,” Tighnari worries like a mother. “Always look at the expiration dates, check if there are anything you’re allergic to.”

He goes on and on for about 5 minutes until you cut him off, “Alright, alright, Tighnari, it’s not like she’ll be going all alone; she has me with her!”

With this, Collei wrapped her arms around your waist, ever so thankful for your support. You thought of her as a niece, and she thought of you as an auntie, willing to give her advice on anything, trivial or not. After a few more words exchanged, and details for the festival, the pair decide to head to their cottage.

For once, you enjoyed your time and not think of Alhaitham once!

Oops.

—

It was the day of the Sabzeruz Festival; you had already picked Collei up from their cottage and are on your way to the Grand Bazaar. You could see thousands of attendees, travelling merchants, and familiar faces on the way.

As the vibrant colors and lights of the festival unfolded before you, the once a source of excitement and anticipation now loomed before you like a daunting reminder of what you had done. Despite Dehya's invitation, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of joyous revelry. Each smile, each laugh felt like a dagger to your already wounded heart, a painful reminder of the love you had lost and the embarrassment that now consumed you.

But this was no time for dwelling upon the memories that brought misery, remember, Collei is counting on you to give her a good time.

“Y/N, Collei!” You spot Kaveh in the distance waving and walking your way. Collei happily waved back. “I’m so glad I could run into you guys, you have no idea how terrified I am of meeting a client by accident.”

You laughed, “Do I have to accompany you, too, Kaveh?”

“Actually, I was thinking of letting you have some fun while I take care of little Collei here.” He ruffles her neatly-done hair, now messy but more natural-looking. This led Collei to bring out a small comb to fix it.

You felt irresponsible leaving Collei in someone else’s care, you’d said you would take care of her, and it felt like you would be breaking a promise if you agreed to his offer. You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I don’t know, Kaveh, something feels wrong about that, no offense. Plus, if something were to happen to Collei, we wouldn’t hear the end of it; you wouldn’t like Tighnari when he’s angry.”

“A fair point, but you’ve been locked up in your house for two weeks, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You deserve to be out there, butterfly, spread the wings you grew from being in that cocoon!”

That somehow felt too specific. Does he know something? Collei starts to agree, despite seeming so excited to go with you. “Even you, Collei?” You sigh, “Fine, but if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You weren’t expecting to have so much fun here. The lights, the music, even the people were a blast! At first you were anxious for Collei, checking in from time to time, then as you continued to do so, your vists would be more spaced apart. You drank some punch with Dehya and Dunyarzad, who seemed to be doing really well for themselves, then you danced with the crowd in the name of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

After all of that, it was time for one last dance before Nilou’s grand performance. The band began to play a soft, romantic folk song. “Alright, Sumeru City,” called the lead singer, their voice sonorous with seduction, “before we settle down for the reknowned Nilou, let’s have a little treat for all the couples out there. So, grab your partner and dance along.”

Just as you were at the height of excitement, everything seemed to come crashing down again. You stood on the sidelines, feeling lost and out of place. Dehya and Dunyarzad swayed together, hand in hand. A lot of other couples came together and danced. The passion embedded in the song they sang only made you feel more alone, the walls of the Grand Bazaar growing taller and taller as you gazed upon them in longing.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, a man you don’t remember meeting. “Excuse me, miss, could I trouble you with a dance?” He looked about your age, a nice smile and an energetic demeanor. You were cautious of his intentions, though. It’s possible to have fun while maintaining a distance, right?

You accepted his invitation, all of the sudden you felt a sick knot in your stomach, like you were cheating on Alhaitham. But you weren’t together anymore, why would you stop yourself from meeting new people?

The man said his name was Hafan, a mercenary from the Corps of Thirty. He offered to buy you a drink once the dance was over, and again, you gladly accepted while the sweat in your palms said otherwise. You talked with every step you took, getting to know each other and telling stories. He made you laugh—a lot—and you impressed him with your witty comebacks. Perhaps this was the Dendro Archon’s response to your prayer? A hand to guide you through the maze, and to help you believe in love again?

But just amidst the merry atmosphere of the festival, a lingering anxiousness settled within your stomach.

Then, you saw him.

Alhaitham stood in the corner of the room, the desperate merchants and harmonizing of the band seemed to die down as time stood still. The vibrant colors faded into shades of grey as your heart clenched with a mixture of dread and longing.

It was as if a gate had opened within you, unleashing a torrent of emotions you had struggled to contain. Guilt gnawed at your conscience, regret tore your chest open, and love gave your heart to him.

As Hafan twirled you gracefully across the makeshift floor, you held your gaze with Alhaitham, your heart torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could’ve been.

Maybe you had been thinking too rashly, maybe he had changed over the course of your absence. The way he looked at you with such burning could not make you think otherwise.

In that moment, with all the crowds in the festival and the ache of your fractured heart, you knew for certain—no matter how hard you deny it, no matter how fast you tried to run, you could never escape the grasp he had on your soul.

The dance had ended, though it felt like it just started. Before Hafan could get that drink he promised, you said, “I’m sorry, Hafan.” He looked at you in confusion. “You must be looking for someone to—I don’t know—spend the rest of the festival with, and I don’t think I can fulfill that position. You’re a sweet guy, truly, I’m just not in a good place for anything right now.” Archons, you sounded ridiculous. But to your suprise, the man hardly took it personally.

“It’s okay, I get it. I had fun with you tonight, Y/N. You’re a great person to be around.” You almost regret having to end your time with him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” He gave you a nod of farewell and left your side.

You looked in the direction of Alhaitham, again, hoping to catch that feeling of familiarity, but you had found he was no longer there. Perhaps it was your imagination.

You then searched for Collei and Kaveh, but they were nowhere to be found. They weren’t near the stalls, or in front of the stage.

They were nowhere in the bazaar.

The panic you felt shook your entire foundation, the pillars that kept you from going back home, back to the pain.

What if they had been kidnapped? You trusted Kaveh’s words, that he would take care of her, but for all you know they could be in the middle of the desert right now! What if Kaveh had run into a client and got distracted? What if Collei got injured or hospitalized?

Your heart began beating in your ears, your breath hastened with every thump. The air seemed so thin in the enclosed space, you needed to go outside. Yes, perhaps you could have a better chance at finding them out there, too.

As you walked out the doors of the Grand Bazaar, Collei’s name immediately echoed through the night. “Collei!” After numerous calls left with no answers, lumps of tears began crawling down your cheeks. “Oh my archon,” you sobbed. You could imagine the look on Tighnari’s face, the worry, the anger, the disappointment.

The feeling of losing them was clawing to your soul, like a mother bird losing her chick after their first flight. If they go missing, it was your fault. That fact will forever stain your soul, haunting your remaining days until the sweet release of death.

You sat on a curb, just near the entrance of the bazaar in hopes that the little girl and the architect would return unharmed. More tears had revealed themselves as your thoughts grew more and more intense, terrorizing, even.

The streets were so quiet, only the music from the festival and the first chirps of the crickets seemed to fill your ears, your sobs excluded. No guards or matras were present with you. Who the hell was in charge of security here!? The starry sky brought a comfortable cold instead of blazing heat.

You then heard footsteps from the bazaar and a person sitting beside you. “I walked them home,” a gruff voice sounded, “Collei was getting tired.”

Just your luck, the man who sat with you was no other than Alhaitham. Despite the conflicting emotions that came to you in a flash, you were relieved that Collei was safe. You let out a heavy breath. “Thank you,” you sniff, brushing away the tears that stained your face.

It was quiet again, for a while. You could hear Nilou’s music from outside; “Collei would’ve loved seeing Nilou dance,” you thought aloud. “I remember her basking about it when she had just became Tighnari’s pupil.” Suddenly, you felt calmer, safer now that the eerie silence accompanied you with the presence of the man you knew as well as breathing.

—

Alhaitham couldn’t say anything, busying himself gazing upon your eyes and your weakly pulled smile. There was still sadness lingering within them, covered by a coating of relief. He felt remorse for taking Collei away from you, for making you worry like this, for leaving you in the dark for a long, long time. Nonetheless, he was happy it led to you talking to him again. He was almost certain this day would never come.

Then he is reminded of you dancing with another man. His heart pounded erratically against his chest, each beat echoing the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within him. He had come to the festival in search of hope and redemption, a fleeting reprieve from the pain that chewed up his soul. But instead, he had found more heartache, contrary to the plan.

As he watched you twirl and sway with the man’s hand in yours, he felt as though the world tilted off its axis, leaving him teetering on the precipice of anguish. How could you be dancing so freely with another when every fiber of his being yearned to hold you so close, to feel the warmth you gave him once more?

His hands clenched into fists against his knees, his jaw tightened with unexpressed emotion. He remembered how badly he wanted to look away, but the flow of your hair and how gracefully you moved wouldn’t let him, it was as if you had casted a spell upon him, forever tormenting him to stay on the sidelines, to repress the overwhelming desire to be the one twirling you around and making you smile.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him—a searing pang of jealousy intertwined with a profound sense of regret and longing. Then just when he was ready to cross the bridge that separated you, he felt a small tug on his darkened cape. “Mr. Scribe Alhaitham,” Collei said meekly, sheepishly rubbing her eyes, “Did the plan work?”

He remembers Kaveh’s words, so filled with determination, She’ll do anything for Collei, so if she asks to go to the festival, Y/N will for sure accompany her! Once the slow dance starts, that’s when you’ll swoop in and declare your love.

And if it doesn’t work?, the scribe raised his eyebrows.

It will! I’ll make sure no one gets near her.

Boy, did that plan go to shit.

He gave the little girl a soft smile despite the mind-numbing pain in his chest. He knelt down to her level, “Isn’t Kaveh supposed to be with you?”

“Someone was talking to him just a while ago. It seemed pretty heated, so I slipped away when I got the chance,” she yawned.

“Of course,” Alhaitham muttered. Must be a client of his. “You look tired, Collei.”

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Alhaitham.” The drowsiness in her eyes could barely hold her awake. It was getting late, she must not be used to staying up at times like these.

Alhaitham looked back at you, wondering if you were still keeping your eyes on him. To no avail, it was like you had vanished like a ghost with the beautiful, painful sight he had witnessed along with you. A heavy feeling lingered in his chest, leaving him to wonder if you would lock your gaze with him again. Then he left, accompanying Collei back to her and Tighnari’s cottage.

On his way back to the bazaar for reasons unknown, he found you weeping in your hands, curled up like a shriveled bug beaten down, calling out Collei’s name. After he assured you of the little girl’s safety, you began talking about your experiences with her. Ever so glad, he listened to your voice, melodious and soothing like a lullaby to put him to sleep. The euphoria he experienced was one like no other, it was the first time he felt at peace for eons against the stars and the cool breeze. Then, he wondered, were you feeling the same?

“They found a new Grand Sage,” he announced.

“Is that why you have the time now?” Your words stung his morality, picking on the weak scabs of his mistakes.

He took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Unable to meet his gaze, you managed a casual tone, “I know, Alhaitham.” His name sounded like a song whenever it came from your lips. “Besides, it’s not your fault.” Your voice was then hoarse of emotion, fingers picking at the dirt beneath you. “I shouldn’t have let myself to get lost in my own thoughts.”

“But I should’ve been there for you,” Alhaitham insisted. “I should not have made you feel like you were alone.”

“But it happened anyway.”

For a moment, silence enveloped the space between you, only broken by the distant sounds of the festival. Then, slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, in a light that had no remorse, for the first time since you told him to leave.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “But I do know I’m willing to try.”

With this, Alhaitham took you in a warm embrace, letting out a shaky breath as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He then held you by the shoulders, teary as you released him from this torture. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right again.”

As you looked into his eyes, you found the sincerity in his voice, determination reflecting upon his irises. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn’t deny the hope that ignited in your stomach. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to find your way back together.

You held his hands first, then traced your way to his cheeks, warm with anticipation. Then you pulled him into a kiss that was long overdue, Alhaitham almost tumbling from the force you had exerted.

As your lips meet, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way they press together, as if each touch carries the weight of a thousand whispered promises. Time seems to stand still as you both lose yourselves in the sensation, senses heightened by the intoxicating blend of warmth and desire. It's a symphony of sensations—a gentle caress, a fleeting brush of lips, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes without a single word. And in that fleeting moment, you find solace, connection, and a sense of belonging in each other's embrace.

Slow as the breeze blew your hair, everything froze and only he brought the fire to relieve you of your vains. Alhaitham’s lips were soft and cold, clearly waiting for this day to come. When he leaned back for air, foreheads connected together, you breathed, “I love you.”

As you heard the crowd’s applause from a distance, as if cheering for your reconciling, he replied, “I love you more,” before pulling you in for another well-deserved kiss.

—the end.—

[ccwpidsblog]

SAINTS AND SINNERS — iwtv

SUMMARY : Edmée Heart, the dutiful daughter of a pastor, lives a sheltered life bound by rules and expectations. But her quiet world begins to unravel when she catches the attention of Louis de Pointe du Lac and Lestat de Lioncourt, two enigmatic men with dark secrets. Drawn to Edmée’s innocence, Louis and Lestat vie for her affection, each offering her a taste of freedom and danger.

RATING : 18+

CONTENT WARNING: season one spoilers, not entirely accurate to the show but we’re all grown here it shouldn’t matter much, eventual polyamory, heavy religious themes, daddy issues, more to be added

CWPID NOTES 🏹: this is a great way to come back and show how much my writing has improved. redeeming myself from the trash fiction i was writing before. ON A03 N WILL ONLY BE UPDATED ON AO3 (if im not being lazy)

Edmée remembered the Sundays before Louis de Pointe du Lac avoided the sun, somehow, he’d managed to arrive at church after a long night of sin. He was always late, slipping through the heavy wooden doors just as her father’s booming voice began the first prayer. From her family’s high pew, she could see him moving down the aisle, the faint scent of booze and perfume lingering on his clothes—a sinful whisper of the previous night’s indulgences.

He’d take his usual seat beside his brother, his strong frame settling heavily into the creaking wood. His head would bow, his eyes would close, and for the rest of the service, he remained still. Unmoving, like a statue carved from marble. At first, Edmée thought he might be sleeping, but there was something too deliberate about the way he held himself, his hands clasped loosely on his lap, his expression unreadable.

She couldn’t stop watching him. From her elevated view, she memorized the way the sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting fractured colors across his dark skin. He looked ethereal, caught between shadows and light, the kind of beauty that left her breathless and guilty all at once. She tried to focus on her father’s sermon, but her gaze always drifted back to Louis.

At the end of every service, as her father stood by the doors shaking hands and offering blessings, Louis would rise with a graceful ease. He’d move through the small crowd, a charming smile on his lips, and when he reached her father, he always made a point to praise the sermon. “Your words speak straight to the soul, Pastor Heart,” he’d say, his voice like velvet dipped in honey.

Then he’d turn to her mother, taking her hand and pressing a gentlemanly kiss to her knuckles. “A vision of grace, as always, Mrs. Heart,” he’d say, his words smooth and effortless.

But when his gaze finally reached Edmée, it changed. He wouldn’t kiss her hand, wouldn’t offer a compliment. Instead, he’d nod at her, a playful, knowing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. That smile—the one that made her feel like the only girl in the world and completely invisible at the same time. If her skin had been any lighter, she knew she would’ve turned as red as the pew cushions beneath her.

In passing, he treated her the same. A quick nod, a flash of white teeth. But she noticed how he greeted the other women—the kisses, the murmured words that made them laugh and fan themselves, the lingering glances. With her, there was none of that.

Only a nod. A smile.

And it made her stomach twist with jealousy. The last time Edmée saw Louis was at Grace’s wedding. The church was packed, and the air was thick with the scent of lilies and the murmur of joyous chatter. Louis was everywhere that day—his laugh echoing above the music, his face alight with a rare kind of happiness that made him seem untouchable. He was glowing, his usual quiet intensity replaced by something brighter, freer. Edmée stood by the punch table, nervously clutching a glass, when he approached her. She didn’t see him coming; one moment she was alone, and the next he was there, his presence commanding and electric.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice low enough that no one else could hear. “Maybe even more beautiful than the bride.”

Her breath caught, her cheeks burning.

“Don’t tell Grace,” he added with a wink, leaning in just enough that she caught a whiff of his cologne—a mix of cedar and something darker, richer. Edmée could only nod, her voice stolen by his closeness, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

Months.

Many months without seeing him.

The pew Louis shared with Paul and his family remained empty every Sunday, a silent memorial to all that had unraveled. No one dared to sit there now, not after everything. Not after Paul’s tragic passing, not after the whispers.

The whispers.

They followed Louis like a shadow, stretching long and dark through the town. The women at her mother’s so-called “Bible studies” spoke of him in hushed tones, their voices dripping with scandal and sanctimony. “Dancing with the devil,” they’d say, the words lingering in the air like smoke. Edmée would sit in the corner, quietly stitching or polishing silver, her ears pricking at every mention of his name. Her brothers were no better. On Thursday nights, they’d gather in the attic for their card games, their voices low and conspiratorial. Edmée wasn’t allowed to join, of course, but she’d found her own way around that rule. If she sat at the top of the stairs, just out of sight, her father wouldn’t scold her.

There, she could catch snippets of their conversations, each word painting a more vivid picture of the man she hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“...seen him with him again...” “...spends his nights where no decent man would...” “...more dead than alive, if you ask me.”

The words made her chest tighten, her heart ache. She couldn’t bring herself to believe them. Louis de Pointe du Lac, the man who nodded at her with that secret smile, who complimented her at Grace’s wedding, couldn’t be what they said he was. Could he?

But her father’s rules were ironclad. She couldn’t ask, couldn’t go looking for answers. The world outside their home was a forbidden one, especially now. Edmée’s days were measured in prayers and chores, her nights spent reading scripture or mending clothes by candlelight. Her father had made it clear: the streets were no place for a proper young lady, especially after dark. The world out there was dangerous, filled with temptation and sin. But tonight, as she stood by the forbidden window, the temptation was unbearable.

The house was quiet, her family long asleep. The window, a heavy thing with rusted hinges, had always been forbidden. “Nothing good comes from looking where you shouldn’t,” her father had said countless times. But tonight, Edmée couldn’t help herself. She pressed her fingers to the cool glass, peering into the moonlit street below. At first, there was nothing. Just the empty streetlamps and the soft rustle of the wind through the trees. But then, she saw him.

Louis

He was walking slowly down the cobblestone street, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, his head slightly bowed. The gaslight caught his face, illuminating its sharp angles, the deep shadows beneath his eyes. He looked different—thinner, wearier, as though the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders.

Her breath hitched in her throat. She pressed closer to the glass, watching him with the kind of hunger she didn’t dare name.

“Not tonight,” Louis said, his voice low but sharp. Another figure emerged from the shadows. He appeared with a startling grace, stepping into the lamplight as if conjured from the darkness itself. His hair gleamed like spun gold, his sharp, angular features both striking and unnerving.

There was a wildness about him, a dangerous energy that made Edmée’s heart race in an entirely different way.

“Louis,” Lestat’s voice purred, low and teasing, the sound carrying up to her window. “Out for another pensive stroll, are we? Tell me, do you plan to sulk your way through eternity, or is this just for tonight’s entertainment?”

“I’m not in the mood for your games, Lestat,” he said, his voice soft but heavy with frustration. “Oh, but you never are,” Lestat replied, stepping closer. “And yet, here I am, devoted as ever. You should be flattered, mon cher.”

From her perch, Edmée couldn’t look away. The two men stood in stark contrast—Louis, somber and grounded, and Lestat, all sharp smiles and restless energy. Their connection was undeniable, charged with something she didn’t quite understand but found utterly captivating.

Lestat reached out, brushing an invisible speck from Louis’s shoulder with a flourish. “And speaking of devotions,” he said, his tone turning sly, “you’ve been spending an awful lot of time on this street. Seems that you miss the little church mouse lately? What’s her name again? Edmée?”

She could see the shift in Louis as he seemingly snapped, finally turning to face Lestat. “Leave her out of this,”

Lestat’s grin widened. “Oh, mon ami, you wound me. I only meant to say she’s... enchanting, in her own way. So innocent, so untouched by the world.” He tilted his head, his gaze flickering upward as though he might sense her watching.

Panicking, Edmée ducked away from the window, her heart pounding in her chest. She pressed her back against the wall, trying to steady her breath.

Had he seen her?

Had they seen her?

Who was he?

What was he to Louis?

As she sat there in the dark, the questions swirled in her mind, each one more troubling than the last. And though she couldn’t explain why, she felt as though she had glimpsed something forbidden, something that would change everything if she let it.

[kiwriteswords]

Do you believe in life after love? [Aaron Hotchner x Haley's Best Friend!Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 7.6k|| AN: I teased this story like...months ago, yet here we are now. Sorry for the wait! I hope it was worth it?

Tags/Warnings: female reader, mentions of Haley Hotchner, spoiler to Haley Hotchner's fate, canon-typical themes, non-BAU!Reader, Reader is Haley's best friend, reconnection, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of Jack Hotchner, love after loss, potential for a part 2.

Summary: Years after Haley Hotchner's passing, Hotchner reunites with you, Haley's best friend, at Jessica's party. He never imagined the shared understanding of loss, love, and life would be within the comfort of your arms.

At Jessica's home, children's laughter sliced through the air. Aaron Hotchner stood slightly apart from the clusters of Brooks' family and friends, his gaze anchored by the sight of his son, Jack, who was cheerfully navigating the throng of party-goers.

Jack’s laughter, free and unabashed, was a balm to the ever-present ache in Aaron’s chest. An ache carved from years of accumulated loss and duty.

You arrived quietly, almost slipping into the backyard unnoticed, save for a single moment when your eyes found Aaron’s across the space.

It was as if the years peeled back in a sharp, sudden tug at his memory. You looked just as surprised to see him, your expression treading a line between joy and a sorrow that mirrored his own. 

The last time Aaron had seen you was at Haley’s funeral, a day when grief had rendered him nearly unrecognizable to himself, a shadow amid the stark reality of his loss. A day that altered his life forever, yet still felt so fresh. So far away. So much all at once.

“Aaron?” Jessica’s voice was soft, but it sliced through his reverie like a delicate knife. She gestured to you, “You remember, right? Haley’s best friend.”

Of course, he remembered. How could he not? The friendship you shared with Haley had been a tapestry of confidences and laughter, woven into the fabric of their lives.

Now, as you approached, the years collapsed into a single, acute moment of nostalgia and what-ifs.

“Hello, Aaron,” you said, your voice a gentle echo of a past that once seemed filled with endless possibilities. Your smile was tentative as if you were reaching across a chasm not just of time but of all the words left unsaid since then.

He managed to breathe your name,  his voice rough with emotions held too tightly in check. “It’s been a long time,” He paused, “Too long.” 

The party buzzed around you both, a tableau of normalcy that felt oddly jarring. Jack ran up then, grabbing Aaron’s hand with a sticky one, his face alight with the simple joy of a child at a Aaron’s eyes softened as he looked down at his son, the spitting image of joy and innocence. “In a minute, buddy.” He promised, ruffling Jack’s hair before turning back to you. You were watching Jack with an affection that spoke volumes, reconnecting Aaron not just to the present but to all the might-have-beens.

“He’s wonderful, Aaron. Just like you,” you murmured, and the compliment lodged in his throat, thick and hard to swallow.

“Thanks,” he managed quietly, the words strained as he tried to dislodge the tightness in his throat. “Haley would have loved this—seeing him so happy.”

Your eyes met his again, and he saw in them a reflection of his own pain. A shared sorrow for the life and friend you both missed. “She would have,” you agreed, your voice a mere whisper amidst the surrounding noise.

The compliment knotted in his throat, thick and hard to swallow. He often found similarities between himself and his son. Oftentimes, it was a cruel mirror into his own personality--stubborn at times, strong-willed, orderly. Then, there were times when Jack was all Haley. With a quick whip response and those eyes, Aaron often felt he was back in a room with a young Haley Brooks. 

As the afternoon shadows grew longer, casting a golden, melancholic light over the yard, Aaron found himself drawn into the easy rhythm of your conversation. It was as if each word you spoke was a thread, reconnecting him to a world he had thought permanently severed from him. 

There was a time when you had been so intertwined into his personal life that you were, without question, always there. Birthdays, holidays, and random occasions from high school until the divorce, you were Haley’s right hand. 

You talked of your travels, your career, the life you had built—a life impressive and full yet tinged with an undercurrent of solitude that Aaron understood all too well.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” Aaron said, his words not just an observation but a quiet acknowledgment of the sacrifices such a life demanded

You shrugged, a graceful tilt of your head that belied the depth of your reflection. “I’ve tried. It’s not quite what I imagined when we were all planning our futures, but…” You paused, searching for the right words. “But it’s full of chapters worth reading, even the sad ones.”

The simplicity of your metaphor struck him, the poetry of it winding through his thoughts like a vine. “I think that’s all we can ask for,” he replied, the sound of children playing a distant, sweet symphony. “Chapters worth reading.”

As the party dwindled and the evening chill settled in, Aaron felt the weight of the day begin to lift, feather-light, as if your presence had somehow begun to ease the burden he carried. Watching Jack wave goodbye to you, he realized that perhaps what he needed was not to forget, but to remember—to reconnect with those who could speak Haley’s name and share in the beauty and pain of her memory.

“Would you like to meet for coffee sometime?” Aaron asked as you were about to leave, the question an olive branch extended into the dimming light of the day.

Your smile in response was soft, yet it held the warmth of a thousand sunlit mornings. “I’d like that,” you said. And as you walked away, Aaron watched, a sense of peace settling around him like a promise, whispering of new beginnings formed from the fragments of past lives.

Not long after, the coffee shop was a quiet haven from the bustling city outside, a small universe encapsulated by the scent of freshly ground beans and the soft murmur of other patrons lost in their own worlds. Aaron Hotchner sat across from you, his fingers wrapped around a steaming cup, his eyes occasionally meeting yours before skirting away, as if direct contact might unravel him completely.

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, the clink of the spoon against the ceramic cup punctuating the silence that had settled between you. The conversation had started easily enough—casual updates on life, work, mutual acquaintances—but now it meandered, lost, avoiding the one subject that linked you irreparably to one another. Haley Brooks Hotcner. 

Aaron thought back to a hallucination he'd had of Haley when unconscious, “He’s not like you, Aaron. He needs words.” 

That memory now echoed in his mind, a stark reminder of his limitations.

He watched you now, your expression thoughtful, your gaze occasionally flitting to the window as if the answers might be found in the passersby or the fall of rain against the glass. It was clear you felt it too--the weight of the unspoken, the shadow of a shared loss that was as much a part of you as your own heartbeat.

“You know, I sometimes think I’ve spent more time with ghosts than with the living,” Aaron said suddenly, his voice low, his words cutting through the noise of the shop. It was as if he couldn’t bear the silence any longer, the distance it created.

Your eyes snapped back to his, a flash of surprise there before it settled into a deep, understanding sadness. “Me too,” you confessed, the admission hanging between you, heavy and palpable. “I think that’s why I bury myself in work. If I’m always moving, maybe I won’t notice how much I miss her.”

Aaron nodded, the ghost of a smile touching his lips, not in amusement but in recognition. “I see her sometimes in Jack. In the way he laughs or the expressions he makes when he’s lost in thought. It’s both wonderful and…and heartbreaking.”

You reached across the table, your hand hovering over his for a moment before making contact. The warmth of your touch was a stark contrast to the coolness of his own skin. “She’d be proud of him, Aaron. Of you, too.”

The simplicity of your words was a balm to his frayed edges. Here, in this quiet coffee shop, you offered him a reflection of himself not as a failure or a broken man but as someone enduring, someone still capable of being seen as good in the eyes of another.

Then, there was this bitter taste in his mouth. Something deep within him could not agree with this, knowing, in part, he was at fault for his late wife’s death. 

“I’ve been trying to keep her memory alive for him, but it’s hard,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s getting older, and I’m afraid he’s starting to forget her.”

“You’re doing your best, Aaron. That’s all she would have wanted,” you said, squeezing his hand gently before pulling back. “And maybe it’s okay to let the memories shift a bit, as long as we keep the essence of her in our lives. We remember her, not just by reliving the past but by living our lives fully because that’s what she would have wanted.”

Aaron let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There was a certain poetry in your words, a gentle reminder that life, like a river, was constantly moving, reshaping the landscape of memory with gentle, persistent currents.

“You always were the wise one,” he said, a genuine smile breaking through the clouds of his demeanor for the first time since you’d sat down.

“And you always pretended to listen,” you teased back, the familiar banter a light in the dimness of the past hour.

As you both laughed, the weight of the conversation didn’t lessen, but it seemed, for the moment, more bearable.

Aaron realized then that healing might not come from forgetting or even from remembering but from allowing those who understood the depth of your pain to walk beside you, even if the path was one of heartache and recovery.

With you, he didn’t need to navigate his grief alone, and perhaps, in this shared journey, there was a kind of solace to be found.

Coffee had gone so well--felt so well, you invited Aaron and Jack over for dinner one night. When both of your busy schedules aligned, it felt right to spend a night off with each other. 

The evening light spilled golden and warm across your dining room, transforming the ordinary into something akin to a painting—one of those still life canvases where every detail felt intentional, every shadow perfectly placed. 

You had prepared dinner, the aroma of seasoned herbs and roasted vegetables filling the air with an inviting scent, while Aaron and Jack had arrived with dessert in tow—double chocolate cupcakes, recalling your well-known fondness for anything cocoa.

Jack had quickly found solace in the corner of the living room, building fortresses from old blocks and the occasional shout of triumph drifting into the kitchen. It left Aaron and you in the quiet bubble of the kitchen, a space that seemed to encourage confidences as naturally as it welcomed the warmth from the oven.

As you both set the table, a rhythm developed between you, a dance of old friends comfortable in each other’s orbit. The initial awkwardness that might have clung to the edges of the evening fell away, piece by piece, as you began to share stories of the past, laughter mingling with the clink of dishes and the soft background hum of the refrigerator.

“I still remember when Haley tried to bake that cake for my thirtieth birthday,” Aaron said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the memory. It was as if this once suppressed memory was at the forefront of his mind--fresh, as if it were just yesterday. “She was so determined it would be perfect.”

You laughed, the sound bright and clear. “It was perfect, if you were aiming for something resembling a volcanic eruption. I think we found frosting on the ceiling for weeks afterward.”

Aaron’s laugh joined yours, a sound that felt like it was pulled from a deeper place than he’d visited in a long time. “She was always so ambitious in the kitchen. Never quite had the timing down, though.”

The ease with which Haley’s name came up in conversation surprised him; there was no tightening in his chest, no swift detour to safer topics. Here, with you, it felt natural, a sharing of joy rather than a reopening of wounds.

“You know, she used to say the same about you and dancing,” you teased, nudging him gently with your elbow as you passed him a stack of plates.

“That’s slander,” Aaron protested, but the grin on his face belied his words. “I’ll have you know I’ve improved considerably since then.”

“Is that so?” You raised an eyebrow, amusement sparkling in your eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Dinner passed in a similar vein, with Jack occasionally chiming in with the earnestness only a child could muster, his stories and questions weaving through the fabric of the conversation, adding his own threads to the tapestry of the evening.

As Jack eventually excused himself, retreating back to his makeshift fortress with a cupcake clutched triumphantly in his hand, you and Aaron lingered at the table, the remnants of dinner before you, the room dimming as the sun set beyond the window.

“It feels good, you know,” Aaron said after a moment, his voice soft, reflective. “Talking about her like this. I didn’t realize how much I missed just… remembering her with someone who knew her as well as I did.”

You reached across the table, your hand brushing against his. “Haley was... iis a part of us. We carry her in our stories, Aaron. It’s okay to smile when we speak her name.”

The profound simplicity of your words settled around him, a gentle embrace. It wasn’t about moving on from Haley, but rather allowing her memory to live in moments of joy and shared laughter, not just in silent reverence.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but laden with an earnestness that filled the space between you. “For this, for dinner, for the laughter… it means more than you know.”

The candles flickered low, casting dancing shadows across the table, across your faces. In this light, with the remnants of a meal shared between friends, and the laughter of his son echoing from the other room, Aaron felt a shift. A loosening of the tight bands around his chest, a breath of air fresher than he’d dared to breathe in a long time.

You smiled, a soft, knowing curve of your lips. “Anytime, Aaron. We’re not just bound by our past, but by how we choose to remember it and who we choose to share it with.”

And as the evening wore on, the darkness outside encroaching upon the windows, there was a sense of peace, of something akin to healing. Here, in this place, with you, the ghosts of the past felt less like specters and more like guardians, their presence a comfort rather than a chain. 

Haley didn’t feel so far away anymore. 

In the weeks following the dinner at your place, Aaron and you carved out moments from your relentlessly demanding schedules to spend time together. These moments were rare gems, sometimes including Jack, sometimes not--opportunities for you two to breathe a little easier.

While Aaron navigated the complexities of running the BAU, you wrestled with the responsibilities of steering a major corporation. The windows of time you both found were brief, yet they were filled with the kind of mutual understanding and ease that Aaron was beginning to realize he found nowhere else.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case that had taken Aaron across state lines and a day that had seen you in back-to-back meetings, you both found yourselves seeking solace in the quiet corner of a familiar bar, the kind of place where the lighting was dim enough to forget the outside world for a few hours.

You were both nursing drinks, the ice clinking softly against the glass in a slow, rhythmic melody. The conversation drifted naturally to the past, to shared memories of Haley, which used to be a field of landmines but now felt more like a sanctuary.

“I remember missing your birthday party when I first got promoted to unit chief,” Aaron said, a hint of old regret coloring his tone. He glanced at you, expecting perhaps a shadow of the old disappointment, but found only understanding.

You laughed softly, the sound gentle and forgiving. “Haley told me about that fight you two had. It was one of the first times she really got mad about your job, wasn’t it?”

He winced at the memory, nodding. “It was, the beginning of…the beginning of many. I hated missing it, but there was a case…there’s always a case…”

“I know,” you said, your voice a mixture of empathy and amusement. “I felt like such a hypocrite back then, trying to support her but secretly getting where you were coming from. I told her more than once, ‘You knew who you were marrying.’”

Aaron looked at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “And yet, here we are, both slaves to our work.”

You raised your glass in a mock salute. “Guilty as charged. But you know, you always had that drive, even back in school. Always the one aiming to be the best, even if it meant sacrificing a few parties.”

He couldn’t help but smile genuinely at that, the familiarity of your teasing a comfort in itself. “Guess some things don’t change,” he admitted. The warmth in your eyes told him you didn’t really mind that part of him—at least, not anymore.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t try to find a better balance now,” you suggested, your tone light but serious. It was an invitation, he realized, to keep creating moments like these despite the chaos of their lives.

Aaron nodded, feeling the weight of the day begin to lift slightly at the prospect. “Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” You smiled.

The conversation drifted then to lighter topics, but a new understanding hung between you two, a silent acknowledgment of past hardships and a mutual commitment to do better in the future.

And as the night wore on, the two of you shared more stories, more laughs, each moment weaving a new layer into the fabric of your rekindling relationship. 

It was these threads, spun from old and new yarn alike, that began to form a picture neither of you had anticipated—one richer and more colorful than either of your solitary lives.

And as Aaron walked you to your car later that evening, the chill of the night air couldn’t compete with the warmth he felt inside. It was a warmth that came from shared histories, from understanding, from the possibility of a future where both could maybe, finally, find a balance. 

The next time you met up, in the sprawling park where you had decided to spend the afternoon, Jack was a small figure of boundless energy, darting between trees and playground structures with the uninhibited joy that only a child could harness. Aaron and you sat on a nearby bench, an island of calm observance in the sea of laughter and distant shouts.

Casually, almost as if the question had been carried to him on the gentle breeze, Aaron turned to you. "Did you ever think about settling down?" 

His voice was soft, careful, not wanting to disturb the ease of the afternoon. Looking around, he wondered if this was a life you ever wanted for yourself. 

You watched Jack for a moment, considering the question. The answer felt weighted, more substantial in his presence. "It was hard," you began, your eyes still following Jack's movements. "I just never found the one who could understand me, you know?"

There was a pause, the kind filled with the rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds. Then you turned to him, your gaze thoughtful. "What about you, Aaron? Did you ever think about putting yourself out there again after Haley?"

He followed your gaze back to Jack, a soft sigh escaping him. "I tried once—with someone named Beth. But the timing was never right." Aaron’s words hung briefly in the air. "I found it hard to open up about Haley. It was like this... elephant in the room with her."

Your response was gentle, tinged with understanding. "It doesn’t feel like the elephant in the room when we talk, does it?" The simplicity of your observation struck a chord within him. You continued, "Haley was my best friend. Losing her, I became so closed off.” You let out a breath of frustration with yourself,  “I understand you, Aaron. Maybe not in the same way, but…but I do get it."

He nodded, the autumn sunlight catching in his eyes, lending them a momentary sparkle. "With you, I can talk about Haley without the pain overwhelming me. And I don’t feel the need to hide that pain to protect you because... because you miss her just the same."

It was true; with you, Haley’s memory was a shared space, filled with both joy and sorrow, where neither had to tread lightly. Aaron felt a sense of relief, a loosening of a knot inside him that he hadn’t even realized was there until now.

"You know," Aaron started, turning to look at you fully. "It's strange, but talking to you about her, about everything really, it makes me feel like I'm not just living in the past, but that I'm actually moving forward."

Your smile then was like a warm blanket, comforting and inviting. "That’s because we are moving forward, Aaron. We’re carrying her with us, not letting her drag us back." 

You reached for his hand on his lap then, covering it with your own. It was like instinct for him to turn his hand and hold yours. Neither of you pointed it out or moved, but sat there intertwined. 

Jack's laughter broke through the seriousness of your conversation, pulling both your attention back to the present. Watching him play, a symbol of life's relentless march forward, seemed to underline your words.

Aaron felt a profound gratitude then, not just for your presence, which had become a steady beacon in his recent life, but for the peace that came with it…a peace that allowed him to look at the future with a sense of hope, rather than just duty. 

Then again, life happens and Aaron Hotchner was far from the perfect person. He clung to old habits like a lifeline, and compartmentalizing was one of them. 

It was only days later, when Aaron picked up the phone, his voice was flat, the edges sharp with fatigue. "I think I need to cancel our coffee today," he said, each word heavier than the last. The recent case had dredged up memories best left buried, memories of a mother's tragic end and a child hiding just a room away—echoes of his own past horrors with Haley and Jack.

On the other end of the line, your intuition cut through his attempted nonchalance. "Aaron, you're self-isolating again. It's not good for you," you countered, your voice firm yet laced with concern. "You've always been your own worst enemy in these moments."

He sighed, a sound that spoke of battles fought silently within. "I just need some time—"

"No," you interjected, the decision clear in your tone. "I'm coming over. Don’t argue with me."

Moments later, you were at his door. A tray with two coffees in one hand, still in your crisp business attire, a stark contrast to Aaron's disheveled appearance. He looked worn, like a book left out in the rain, pages wrinkled and ink run. He opened the door with a look that was less than amused but resigned, knowing better than to argue with you.

Without waiting for an invitation, you stepped inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click that seemed to seal off the outside world. You reached for his hand, his skin cool and slightly rough, pulling him gently but with undeniable resolve toward the couch.

Placing the coffee tray on the table, Hotch noticed one cup marked just how he liked his, the other…just how you took yours. 

"Talk to me," you urged as you both sat down, your presence a grounding force.

He hesitated, his gaze fixed on his hands. The silence stretched, thin and taut, until it was filled with his deep, uneven breaths. "It was a mother," he began, the words catching slightly. "Killed while her child hid in the next room. I couldn't stop thinking about—about Haley. And Jack." His voice was a raw whisper, stripped of the usual composure.

You leaned closer, your shoulder brushing against his, a silent signal of support. "It’s okay to feel this, Aaron. It’s human. And it’s okay to talk about it, especially with me."

Aaron looked at you then, his brown eyes searching yours for something like absolution. "Every time it feels like I'm back there again. Not just remembering, but reliving it. I’m supposed to be past this."

"Being past it doesn't mean forgetting, Aaron. It doesn’t mean you won’t ever feel it again," you said softly. "It means you learn how to carry it with you without letting it pull you under. And you let people help carry it with you."

He absorbed your words, the tension in him unwinding slightly. "It’s hard. I always think I need to protect everyone—from the job, from my past. From myself."

"But you don’t need to protect me," you reassured him, your hand finding his, fingers intertwining naturally. "Not from this. I knew Haley, too. I lost her as well. And I know you."

That connection, the shared past and understanding, seemed to reach him, soothing the rough edges of his pain. "Thank you," he said after a long pause, his voice steadier. "For not letting me push you away."

"As if you could," you replied with a gentle smile, the kind that warmed him from the inside out, making the shadows in his mind recede just a bit.

As the silence settled between you and Aaron, thick with shared understanding and newly voiced fears, something shifted perceptibly in the atmosphere. He glanced at you, seeing not just the friend he had known for years, but a beacon in the often tumultuous storm of his life. Your presence, always reassuring, seemed especially vital today.

"Thank you," he murmured again, the words inadequate for the gratitude swirling within him. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Aaron opened his arms—an invitation rather than an imposition. You didn’t hesitate; you leaned into him, and he enveloped you in an embrace.

It was a simple hug, initially meant to be a brief comfort, but the moment your arms wrapped around him, something profound stirred in Aaron’s chest. How long had it been since he received this level of comfort? 

The warmth from your body, the gentle pressure of your arms around him, it was grounding, a tangible reminder that he wasn’t alone. His own arms tightened slightly, pulling you closer, and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to just feel.

The sensation was unexpectedly healing. Here, in this quiet embrace, the world’s demands faded to a distant murmur. Aaron’s breaths deepened, syncing with yours, and a sense of calm spread through him. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself the simple comfort of a heartfelt hug--it was a balm to the lingering ache of old scars, a reminder that physical closeness could bridge the gaps words sometimes couldn’t.

He realized, perhaps for the first time, how starved he had been for this kind of simple, human connection. With you, it felt right, unforced, and incredibly soothing. 

The hug spoke of mutual losses and mutual support, a physical manifestation of the emotional scaffolding you had built together over your recent conversations.

As you finally pulled back, there was a softness in his gaze, a thankfulness. "I needed that more than I knew," Aaron confessed, his voice a low rumble that resonated with newfound clarity.

"You're not alone, Aaron," you reiterated, your hand squeezing his arm reassuringly. "You don’t have to carry everything by yourself."

That moment, that hug, marked a turning point for him. In the simplicity of that gesture, Aaron found a profound truth—the strength of vulnerability, the courage found in sharing one's burdens. And perhaps most importantly, he recognized the potential for healing, for moving forward not just in solitude, but alongside someone who understood the deepest shadows of his past.

From there, the foundation for something deeper than friendship began to solidify, each shared touch and word laying down another stone.

The following weekend, on a crisp Saturday afternoon, Aaron found himself at a local park. You were there too, a serene figure seated on a bench, a book forgotten in your lap as you watched Jack spiritedly kick a soccer ball across the grass. The scene was bathed in soft, gentle sunlight, turning mundane moments into something akin to a painted landscape.

As Aaron approached, your face lit up with a genuine smile, the kind that reached your eyes and tugged at something deep within him—a realization that moments like these had become the highlights of his week.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice carrying a warmth reserved just for these occasions.

“Hi, Aaron,” you responded, your attention shifting fully to him. Jack noticed his arrival, too and ran over, his face flushed with the exertion and excitement. After a quick hug and a rundown of his self-proclaimed spectacular goals, Jack returned to his game, leaving you and Aaron in a comfortable solitude.

Sitting beside you, Aaron felt an ease settle around him, the kind that only your presence could bring. The park around them buzzed with life, children’s laughter piercing through the air like music notes, but on your shared bench, there was a bubble of peaceful quiet.

“It’s beautiful today,” you commented, gesturing subtly at the scenery around you.

“It is,” Aaron agreed, but his eyes were on you, appreciating the way the sunlight danced across your features. The scene was idyllic, almost painfully so, highlighting what life could be—what he wanted it to be. And as he watched you, a thought crystallized in his mind, clear and urgent in its sudden appearance.

He turned to you fully, his expression contemplative, the lines of duty and years softening in the tranquil park setting.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Aaron began, his voice carrying a weight that hinted at the gravity of his thoughts. His eyes met yours, seeking a sign of readiness for the words he was about to share.

You nodded, encouraging him to continue, your own expression a mirror of openness and quiet support.

“It’s about us. How we’ve…we have been spending more time together. It’s made a significant difference, at least for me. For Jack, too, I know that,” he said, his gaze drifting to where Jack was playing before settling back on you. “I find myself looking forward to our moments together... more than I anticipated.”

The admission hung in the air, tender and formidable. You took a deep breath, visibly moved by his honesty. “Aaron, I feel the same,” you replied softly. “There’s a comfort with you, a familiarity that doesn’t just stem from knowing each other as awkward teenagers.”

Aaron’s heart thudded with a mix of relief and burgeoning joy. This was the confirmation he needed, yet he proceeded with caution, aware of the delicate threads of a new beginning being woven between them.

Following the conversation in the park, the meetups, phone calls, and comfort continued as usual. The new normal. A normal neither of you could do without.

In the soft glow of the BAU’s late evening lights, Aaron Hotchner was hastily packing up his things, his movements brisk and somewhat scattered.

A rare sight for someone usually so composed. His briefcase snapped shut, a sound crisp in the quiet of the near-empty office. As he stood to leave, Rossi, ever observant, stood in the doorway of his office and raised an eyebrow.

“Got a hot date or something?” Rossi’s tone was teasing, but his eyes were sharp, missing nothing.

“No, just dinner with a friend,” Aaron replied, adjusting his tie out of habit more than necessity. “La Vie?” Aaron listed off the restaurant, knowing the foodie in Rossi would ask that next.

Rossi chuckled, leaning against the doorway. “That’s a pretty fancy restaurant for just a friend, isn’t it?” 

Aaron paused, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “No? We're just catching up. The food is supposed to be good there?”

“Is this friend a woman?” Rossi prodded, his interest piqued, ignoring Aaron’s not-so-subtle change in direction.

“Yes, but--”

“Haley’s best friend?” Rossi interrupted, putting pieces together in the way only a seasoned profiler could. “The one you’ve reconnected with?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Aaron’s response was guarded, his FBI training kicking in despite the personal nature of the conversation.

Rossi studied him for a moment, then pushed forward off the doorway, standing straighter. “Is she single?”

Aaron frowned, not following Rossi’s line of questioning. “Dave, why does that matter?”

Rossi sighed, a knowing look in his eyes. “Come on, Aaron. Haven’t you ever thought about more with her? More than just comfort and reminiscing?”

The question caught Aaron off guard. He hesitated, the answer unclear even to himself. It was a possibility he hadn’t allowed himself to fully consider, not yet, maybe not ever. Sure, he knew for a fact, especially after your talk in the park over the weekend that it wasn’t an option to go on without each other’s presence anymore. The gap that had been open for so long had finally been filled by each other’s company. But more? 

Rossi, watching the conflict play across Aaron’s features, pressed on, “Is she cute?”

The answer came a little too quickly, a little too sharply. “Yes.” Immediately, Aaron felt a pang of guilt wash over him. This was Haley’s best friend, he chided himself internally.

Rossi noticed the change instantly. “Aaron, listen to me,” he said gently, the tone of a friend rather than a colleague. “You’re not betraying Haley by acknowledging that her friend is attractive or by enjoying her company. It’s been years, my friend. It’s okay to live, to feel, to find happiness again.”

Aaron remained silent, absorbing Rossi’s words. They weren’t just a permission slip; they were a gentle push towards acknowledging a truth he had buried under layers of duty and self-denial.

“You’re not going to war with yourself here,” Rossi added, standing up and clapping a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “You’re just considering the possibility of happiness. That’s not just allowed; it’s recommended.”

The simplicity of Rossi’s advice, devoid of any professional jargon, was like a light piercing through the fog that had settled around Aaron’s heart. 

As he left the office, stepping into the cool night air, his steps felt lighter. He was headed to dinner, not as an obligation, but as a possibility, a chance to explore what might be if he allowed himself just to live in the moment.

Life continued to move fast, but the knowing support was a comfort that Aaron never wanted to take for grated. Throughout the dinners, the coffee, the drinks, the time spent in each of your lives, Aaron’s mind went back to the conversation Rossi proposed. Like most things, Aaron pocketed it for another time. 

The air in the Hotchner apartment was alive with the electronic beeps and laughter of children, the walls decorated with colorful banners that mimicked video game screens. Jack, the birthday boy, was in high spirits, buoyed by the excitement of his friends and the attentive care of you currently helping him set up a new game, one he had been gifted today. 

As Hotch cleared away the last of the birthday cake--chocolate with vibrant blue icing--Jessica approached him, wiping her hands on a napkin. "You both seem really happy together," she commented casually, observing how you interacted with Jack.

Hotch froze for a moment, a spoonful of cake halfway to the trash bin, feeling as though he'd been caught in an act he hadn't even defined yet. Jessica noticed his reaction and laughed softly, her familiarity with his expressions as clear as day. "Aaron, you're allowed to be happy, you know. Haley would want that for you, and I think she’d be thrilled it's with someone she loved."

"It’s not like that," Aaron responded quickly, a reflex born of years of self-imposed boundaries. He resumed cleaning, his movements a bit more forceful than necessary.

Jessica leaned against the counter, her eyes kind but piercing. "Why couldn't it be like that?" she pressed gently. "You guys could really benefit from letting yourselves get to that place. Think about it."

The conversation paused as you approached, having successfully launched the game for an excited group of kids. Aaron's heart was still racing from Jessica's implications, his mind a swirl of what-ifs and could-bes.

"What did I miss?" you asked, a hint of curiosity lifting your brows as you noticed the serious look between Jessica and Aaron. Aaron watched as you looked between him and Jessica, your brain working quickly to decipher a clear missing scene.

Jessica smiled, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "Just giving this guy some much-needed advice. Think about it, Aaron!" She tapped her temple playfully before walking off to help corral some of the more energetic party-goers.

"Later," Hotch muttered, almost to himself, but loud enough for you to catch.

"Later?" you echoed, your tone light but probing.

Hotch managed a small, somewhat tense smile. "Yeah, something Jessica said. We can talk about it later."

As you nodded, slightly puzzled but undeterred, Hotch's gaze lingered on you a moment longer than usual. The way the light played across your face, the way your laughter seemed to stitch itself into the fabric of his home. It was becoming increasingly difficult to deny how integral you had become to his and Jack's lives.

The rest of the party passed in a blur of games, laughter, and fleeting glances. Aaron found himself watching you more often, seeing not just the friend who had supported him through dark times but a possible future filled with light and shared smiles. Jessica’s words echoed in his mind, a gentle nudge toward a door he hadn’t allowed himself to open. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to consider what lay on the other side.

After the cheerful chaos of Jack’s birthday party dwindled and the last of the guests departed, the apartment settled into a serene quiet. Jack, overwhelmed by the day’s excitement and a substantial sugar intake, had fallen asleep on the couch. Aaron gently scooped him up, carrying him to his bedroom, tucking him in with the tender care that defined his fatherhood.

When Aaron returned to the living room, he found you still there, lingering with a contemplative air. The quiet of the apartment wrapped around you both like a soft shroud, a stark contrast to the day's earlier jubilance. 

Aaron’s mind replayed the conversations with Rossi and Jessica, their words about potential and happiness echoing loudly in the calm. He knew it was time to address the unspoken questions that hung between you. He owed it to himself at the very least.

“You know,” Aaron began, his voice low as he sat down across from you, “My coworker, I’ve mentioned to you before…Rossi and now today, Jessica mentioned something to me... about us.”

You met his gaze, your eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and caution. “Oh?”

“They think... and I guess, I’ve been thinking too... about what it would mean to be more than just friends,” Aaron said, each word carefully weighed but flowing freer than he expected. “I don’t want to ruin what we have, but I also can’t ignore that you’ve become the most important person in my life.”

The room filled with a heavy silence as you absorbed his words. Finally, you spoke, your voice tinged with vulnerability. “I’ve felt the same, Aaron. But there’s also this guilt... like I’m somehow betraying Haley? You were the love of her life.”

Aaron nodded slowly, understanding all too well. “I know that feeling,” he confessed. “But sometimes I wonder if, in some way we can’t quite understand; Haley knew we’d both be left here... lonely. And maybe, just maybe, she’d think it was right--us finding comfort, maybe even happiness, together.” He sighed, running a hand over his face, feeling so lost with what to do at this current moment, “Jessica says she’d want this--” 

“Jessica did know her better than you or I,” You laughed, cutting him off. You had a point. A thick pause filled the room, and then your eyes softened at that, a tear glimmering but not falling. “That does sound like something Haley would orchestrate, doesn’t it? She always wanted the best for us. I’d like to think... I’d like to try more than this. But I need to think about it. We both should. I don’t want us to have any regrets.”

Aaron felt a mix of relief and anticipation swirl within him. “Of course,” he agreed. “We’ll take all the time we need.”

As you stood to leave, pausing at the door, you seemed to hesitate. “Aaron, can I try something?”

Confused but trusting, he nodded. At that moment, you stepped closer, closing the distance between you with a few measured steps, and kissed him. It was not a tentative kiss, but one that spoke of all the unspoken words and pent-up emotions…a kiss that sizzled with electricity and felt like destiny unfurling at their lips.

Aaron had never thought about kissing you, surprisingly enough. You were beautiful, everything he would want in a woman. But now, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about you or your lips after this kiss. 

When you finally pulled away, the look in your eyes was as shocked as he felt, both of you breathless from the intensity of the connection. Without a word, you turned and left, the door closing softly behind you.

Aaron stood motionless, the imprint of your lips still warm on his. The apartment was quiet again, but the air was charged with the promise of something new, something terrifyingly wonderful. As he touched his own lips, the memory of the kiss lingered, a promise of what could be if only they dared to reach for it. 

That night, Aaron Hotchner lay awake, the darkness of his bedroom punctuated only by the occasional distant sounds of the city at night. His mind replayed the kiss over and over. 

Its surprising intensity. Its rightness. He felt so much now. So much more than he even dared to feel before. 

But amidst the replay, doubt crept in like a persistent fog. What if you regretted the kiss? What would Haley think of all this? Would she approve of him finding happiness again, especially with her best friend?

As he tossed and turned, Aaron's thoughts drifted to Haley. 

What would Haley want? What about Jack? Jack was Haley’s biggest accomplishment and blessing, in the name of his happy life, what would she want for him? For them? 

The answer came to him in the quiet solitude of the night. Yes. she would want them to be happy. 

Happiness like this didn’t just stumble into one’s life without reason. It felt too right, too destined, to be anything but meant to be.

The next morning, still wrapped in the haze of his late-night revelations and running on less sleep than usual, Aaron’s phone rang just as he was about to enter the FBI building. It was you. 

His heart skipped at the sight of your name. He had become used to your calls, but after the kiss, the conversation…all of the endless possibilities that lay ahead? He paused. 

“So here’s how this will work,” you began without even so much of a greeting hello; your voice carrying a tone that was almost all business, yet he could detect an undercurrent of excitement. “You’re going to ask me on a date, and we’re going to try this for real because that kiss? Haley Brooks Hotchner would not have allowed a universe for a kiss like that to feel so good if she did not want this!”

Aaron laughed, a genuine, heartfelt sound that felt freeing. “Well, good morning to you, too,” There was no hesitation in your words, no regret—only forward motion. “I think that’s an excellent plan,” he responded, the weight of his previous doubts lifting. “How about dinner tonight? There’s a new place I’ve been wanting to try.”

You accepted with a laugh that echoed his own relief and happiness. “I’d love that, Aaron.”

As he pocketed his phone and stepped into the building, his step had a new lightness. He knew this was the start of something extraordinary--the beginning of a new chapter that promised as much joy as it did challenges. 

But for the first time in a long while, Aaron felt fully equipped to embrace it all. He looked up briefly, as if through the steel and glass of the FBI headquarters he could see beyond to the sky above, and silently thanked Haley.

Her memory, always a part of him, now felt like a guiding star rather than a shadow. 

Haley had wanted him to live fully, to love again, and in finding a future with you, Aaron knew he was honoring not just her memory but her wishes for him.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry

[gingernut1314]

Turkey and Cheese ch. 2

Summary: On the run from enforcers, you collide straight into someone in your rush. Someone whose seafoam eyes take your breath away and all you want to do is spend a little bit more time with him.

Content: female reader x Silco, pre-season 1 arcane, first meeting, gendered terms, reader has water manipulation powers, young Silco, young reader, you share a stolen sandwich with Silco, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna)

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: The characters will age up, but the plan I have set up is reader meets Silco and the others when they are all still teens so there is only going to be like...one or two more chapters as teens and then we're getting aged up. I hope you all enjoy!!

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You got too much joy picking on the Enforcers that hang around the bridge that separated the shining city of Piltover and the not-so-bright Undercity. You stole their lunches and their coin, called them every name under the sun, and threw rocks at them from dark corners. 

It pissed them the fuck off making it prime entertainment for you.

Your guardian, Janna, disapproved of your shenanigans. The lectures were too long whenever you were caught. Lectures about reasonability and grace and blah, blah, blah . 

So, to avoid such mind-numbing lectures, you waited until Janna disappeared for days on end to let chaos ensue.

And this fog-heavy day was one of those days.

Your stomach growled, clenching and twisting in hunger as you knelt on top of one of the run-down tenement houses near the bridge. You watched four Enforcers walk out of the broader toll house, switching posts with the other four Enforcers standing before the bridge. 

You had been watching them for most of the night, counting and double counting how many Enforcers were on duty. You counted nine in total, which was one less than there had been last time you’d done this. 

Someone must be sick or had been fired or, maybe, they were dead. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter one bit to you. All you cared about now was earning a few coins and getting a homemade meal from someone's spouse for a late dinner.

You rushed into action after one last scan of the area, before rushing across the roofs. When you came to the end of this line of tenements, you hopped down onto the fire escape below, a small grunt escaping your lips before starting down the rusting stairs. 

Once on the ground, you yanked your hood up and shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, trying to keep a low profile as you walked the short distance across the recently redone cobblestoned road. You disappeared into the large shadows the street lamps cast, walking along the smooth wall of the tollhouse.

“Beth just got accepted into that fancy college she wanted.” A gruff voice filtered out from a small, open window. 

“Well, shit--” Was the last of that conversation you heard as you climbed up a ladder around the back of the building. 

You stayed crouched low as you made way to the vent in the center of the roof. You had used this vent for years, but, as you quietly pulled the metal covering off and lowered yourself into the vent system, found it might be one of your last times. 

You were getting too big to fit in the vent.

This was a child's game, as unfortunate as it was to admit, and at the ripe age of fourteen, you were no child anymore. 

“We’ve been saving up--” And blah, blah, blaaahhhh . 

Enforcers rarely had anything exciting to talk about. It was always about someone's family or about whatever game they had gone to watch. It had nearly sent you into tears as you crawled through the vents. 

Where was the excitement? The danger? 

Didn’t Encforcer beat Undercityians up for fun? 

You finally made it to the vent in the locker room area. It was bland and hardly fit hardly enough lockers for every enforcer stationed here, but to you, it was a gold mine. 

You opened the vent, placing it slowly on the other side of the vent shaft, and hopped into the room, hitting the ground on near-silent feet and a held-in grunt. You waited a few seconds to see if anyone had heard you before starting on opening each locker and taking as many coin potches as you could find. The only good thing the last locker had to offer was a piece of gum instantly shoved into your mouth. 

Just as you opened the fridge and grabbed someone's paper bag lunch, the door opened. 

Your blood went cold. You've been caught one too many times over the years, but each time it happened it never helped ease your nerves. 

A younger-looking Enforcer saw you instantly, his eyes narrowing in something like confusion. You didn’t recognize this Enforcer from past interactions, so you assumed he was new. 

“Hey! Who the hell are you?” 

“No one.” You pulled on the most innocent look you could muster, hiding the lunch behind your back. “I think I might have taken a wrong turn.” 

“A wrong--” The Enforcer then saw the open and ransacked lockers. It clicked then, what had happened here right under his nose. 

Before the Enforcer had time to speak, you pushed past him into the small hallway. 

“Hey!” He shouted after you but you were already booking it into the office area where six enforcers sat. They noticed you almost instantly, rising from their seats in the blink of an eye. One tried to grab you, but you twisted out of his way and dodged another on-coming man. 

The front door open with a bang and all but threw yourself into the street, your gum falling from your mouth in the process. 

“Grab her!” One of the enforcers shouted, singling the four others standing before the bridge. Those four were too far away to do any grabbing, so you didn’t feel the need to be worried about them. 

You ran downwards, toward the looming city you called home. As you ran closer and closer, the air seemed to get thicker-- dirtier than that of the air by the bridge. This wasn’t anything new to you, your throat and lungs taking less than a second to adjust to the polluted air. 

The continuous shouting from behind let you know that the Enforcers were still hot on your tail. You would either lose them eventually in this maze of run-down buildings and streets or they would give up, finding they didn’t want to venture as far into the city as you were going to take them. 

Time would only tell which it would be, so you pushed yourself harder. 

You made the first sharp turn into a familiar alleyway, an enforcer that had been getting too close to you tripping and falling into a couple of barrels full of fish. You gave a sharp laugh, looking over your shoulder to watch that scene unfold in your utter glee.

And just as you made to turn back around, you collided into something solid and bony.

You and the person you’d just hit at full speed went tumbling to the ground, each giving own round of curses. 

A pair of blue-green eyes halted your escape. A pair of eyes that took your breath away…well, maybe it had been from the impact but your breath was differently stolen and these eyes--eyes like seafoam weren’t helping.

The blue-green eyes were attached to a thin, sharp face covered in skin that looked like it hardly got out in the sun. 

Though everyone down here always had that “hardly seen the sun” look about them. 

This guy was very attractive. Too attractive some might say. 

So attractive it almost had you forgetting about the four enforcers running after you. 

 The blue-green eyes narrowed up at you, completely pissed off. 

“Get the hell off--” 

 “She’s in there!” The enforcer that had just fallen into fish guts shouted to his coworkers. The boy’s eyes widened and he looked past you to find what you already knew was coming into the alley. 

“Do you have a canteen?” The boy snapped back to you, anger written clear on his face. 

“What? No--” You gave him an eye roll. 

Who didn't carry a water canteen with them? 

Well…you didn’t, but that was beside the point. 

“A flask?” You tried again.

“You ran into me and brought enforcers with you and you're asking me if I have a--” He gave a startled sort of sound as you began patting him down. You’d grown tired of his rambling. You found a flask in his jacket in an inner pocket and gave a little sound of triumph. 

“Thank you!” You sweetly spoke, pushing yourself off the guy who looked so bewildered by you it was cute . You turned your attention back onto the four enforcers blocking the exit. 

“Thought you could get away with it this time, girl .” One of them hissed through his mask. You recognized this man to be Rufus, an Enforcer that had been stationed on the bridge the longest. 

“But whatever did I do, sir? ” He gave a growl, taking a step forward that was meant to be threatening. 

“Give it back and we’ll forget this ever happened.” You knew that was a lie. As soon as you got close enough, they’d grab you and throw you in jail. 

“Promise?” Rufus was growing impatient, you could see it in his brown, tired eyes.

“ Promise .” He grit out. This made you smile. 

“Alright, mister.” You pulled the flask out from behind your back then. “Catch!” And the flask was tossed Rufus’s way. 

You let your magic flow through your veins and felt for the water in the alcohol. 

Rufus caught the flask with ease. He looked from it to you. 

“What is--” With great effort, you made the little bit of water in the alcohol explode. The flask broke into pieces, shooting up into his eyes. He gave a scream and that was your queue to leave. 

You snapped around, finding the boy standing there, shock on his face. He had a lean build and was very, very tall. It just added to his overall attractiveness. 

Focus!  

“Time to go!” You swiped the fallen lunch off the ground and grabbed for the boy in one go, pulling him further down the alley.

It only took the boy a moment to regain his right mind and in a split second, he was the one pulling you along.

You followed the boy, climbing up on top of the dumper closest to the broken fire escape. You let go of his arm so he could launch himself at the escape, slamming into the railing with a bang. Once he was over the rusting railing, you were quick to jump and slam into the escape.

The boy grabbed your wrist once your two feet were safely on the other side of the railing before continuing to drag you up stair after stair until you made it to the roof, which someone had been trying to grow some kind of plants on. Just with a quick glance at the spotting plant, you could tell it wasn’t going very well. 

Shouting from the enforcers below had you wiggling out of the boy's grip and looking over the edge, finding one had climbed up onto the dumpster while the others looked defeated. 

“If it's any consolation, you’ll be feeding a poor underling for a day or so.” You shouted down to them, waving the bag mockingly.

“Don’t think this is over, girl!” Rufus spat. You only gave him a cheeky smile. 

“Tell your wife she makes the best turkey and cheese sandwiches. I’ve been looking forward to it all month.” Rufus gave a growl before storming out of the alley. Slowly, the other enforcers followed after him, throwing you dirty looks as they left.  

The boy grabbed you then, whipping you around to face him. 

You weren’t always the best at figuring out how people were feeling, mainly thanks to being raised by a seemingly emotionless wind spirit, but you could tell in a moment this guy was angry. 

“If this is about your flask, I’m--” The guy was quick to not let you finish. 

“What the hell were you thinking, bringing enforcers to the Lanes?” He snapped. You merely gave him a very slow blink.

“I’m fully prepared to buy you a new one.” You finished, earning a frustrated growl from the guy. 

You liked what he had going on--this uptight, angry, authoritative thing. You liked it so much it made you want to tease him to no end. 

“Why I’m trying to get a child to see reason--” 

“Whoa there.” You held a hand up, further cutting him off. “You’re like--what, a year older than me?” He narrowed his seafoam blue eyes at you once more.

“You can’t be older than twelve.” 

“Nope! Fourteen.” The guy rolled his eyes.

“A child.” 

“Alright, mister-high-and-mighty. How old are you then?” 

“It hardly matters.” Your mouth fell open in disbelief, but before you could nag him anymore, he continued. “You realize they will be back.” You pulled out of the guy's grip again and began walking across the roof. 

To your surprise, the boy followed. 

“The reason I pick on those buffoons at the bridge is because I know their threats are empty.” You opened the brown paper bag and rummaged around until you found a foil-wrapped sandwich your stomach had been growling to get a bite out of. “Especially Rufus.” You took one of the halves out and extended it to the boy. “Want some? It’s the good stuff.” He looked it over for a moment, eyes still narrowed. 

You could tell he didn’t want to take it from you, not when he still looked so annoyed at you…so you gave it a little wiggle that pulled a sigh from his mouth. 

“Thank you.” He took it from you, his eyes finally softening. His fingers brushed the tiniest bit against yours, but it was enough to send sparks running through your every last nerve. 

You watched the boy as he took a bite from the sandwich. Watched as his eyes widened the slightest bit. It was so slight most wouldn’t have noticed, but you had been watching him too intently. 

“Right? It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” You gave him a bright smile. One you rarely ever gave--one that was genuine --before chomping down into your own half.

You hopped up on the edge of the roof, which overlooked the whole of the Lanes. From up here, you could spot the tops of the highest buildings and the smoke billowing up from the mines beneath the city. Smoke that danced and twirled upward, illuminating the lights shining from across the city. In the day, the smoke would cast the sky in murky shades of gray, depending on how bright the sun was shining. 

It was quite beautiful, despite its run-down and polluted nature. 

It was still your home. 

“I didn’t mean to bring the enforcers here…but maybe I gave someone the chance to get across that golden bridge--for them to seek their fortune or a fresh start.” You looked back to the boy who had jumped up onto the edge with you. He turned his gaze towards you, scanning you over with seemingly all-seeing eyes. Eyes that made your skin seem to burn.

“Is that what you want?” The question shocked you.

In The Lanes, most didn’t get too close to one another. Not unless they had to. It was a very lonely world, but you endured.

“No,” You scoffingly said. You wouldn’t even last a day over there. You were too wild, too much a part of the Undercity. You gave the boy a look over of your own, though much less all-seeing as his had been. 

“What about you?” You cautiously asked. Though you didn’t at all mind sharing things about yourself, you didn’t know how this guy was. All you knew is you enjoyed his company….and you didn’t want to be alone all over again quite yet. 

“No,” He replayed, looking back over the city. “There’s too much potential here.” 

You liked that. You liked that a lot . 

You took another big bite from your sandwich, letting the night air fill the quiet between you two. 

You swallowed, glancing back over him as you worked up the courage to speak again. 

And once that small bit of courage was wrestled up, you told him your name.

The boy turned his eyes back on you, his longish brown hair blowing slightly in the breeze. He seemed to hesitate too for a moment.

“Silco.” He spoke before finishing off his half of the sandwich. 

You liked his name. You liked it almost as much as you liked his face. 

“How did you manage to make my flask to explode?” You smirked, turning away from the boy, Silco , once more. 

“A lady never reveals her secrets.” Silco gave a laugh. It was a tiny huffing one, but a laugh nonetheless. 

You liked his laugh. You liked more than his name and face.

Previous | Next

[nrhshm]

Hello!! May i please request an angsty hc/drabble where he patted reader's head or cupped her cheeks,her expression goes :0 and then she starts crying because she rarely received affection from anyone when she was little? with sabo/law and female reader please :)

Right away~~

Sabo and Law with an affection-depirived reader.

. Sfw

. Spoiler free

. Reader is gn (1st pov)

Sabo

The air smelled of fresh blooms, mingling with the earthy scent of the village cobblestones. Your flower stall was modest but well-kept, adorned with colorful arrangements that brought a touch of life to the quiet streets. It was a life of simplicity, one you had built after so many years of darkness.

The villagers were cordial enough—polite smiles and brief greetings—but you knew the truth behind their careful distance. You were the former slave who had been freed by Fisher Tiger. While you were grateful for the life you had now, the shadow of your past loomed large, casting a cloud of fear over the people around you.

But there was one person who always stood out.

Sabo.

He had been a regular at your stall for months now, always buying daffodils. He never said why or who they were for, but his warm smile and gentle demeanor made his visits a highlight of your day. His sunny personality, paired with the sparkle in his eyes, had a way of making you forget the weight of your past, even if only for a few moments.

---

It was a quiet afternoon when the incident happened.

An old woman approached your stall, her expression already sour. “Do you have carnations?” she barked.

You shook your head politely. “I’m sorry, we’re sold out for today.”

Her face twisted with irritation. “Sold out? What kind of flower seller doesn’t have carnations? Useless!”

Her voice rose, drawing the attention of passersby. You tried to remain calm, offering a small smile and a soft apology, but she wasn’t finished.

“You think you can just stand here, pretending to belong in this village?” she spat. “Everyone knows what you are. A slave. A walking liability! How long before the government comes and razes this place because of you?”

The words struck like a physical blow. Your chest tightened, and your breath came in shallow gasps. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The crowd had gathered now, their eyes on you—judging, pitying, or worse, agreeing.

---

“Enough of this.”

The voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Sabo stepped forward, his usually lighthearted demeanor replaced by a calm authority that silenced the murmurs of the crowd. He stood between you and the old woman, his presence commanding and unyielding.

“This behavior is unacceptable,” he said, his tone firm yet composed. “No one, no matter their past, deserves to be treated like this. She’s done nothing but contribute to this village with her kindness and hard work. What have you done, exactly, besides spread bitterness?”

The old woman bristled. “I was just speaking the truth! People like her bring trouble—”

Sabo interrupted her with a polite but pointed smile. “The truth, ma’am, is that she has more strength in her little finger than most of us will ever have. And if you have a problem with her, then perhaps you should reconsider who the real troublemaker is.”

The crowd shifted uneasily. The old woman, her indignation faltering, grumbled something under her breath and walked away.

Sabo turned to the onlookers. “Show’s over, folks. If you don’t have anything kind to say or do, maybe it’s time to get back to your day.”

The villagers dispersed, their curiosity satisfied, leaving the two of you alone.

---

Sabo’s expression softened as he turned back to you. Kneeling slightly, he picked up a daffodil that had fallen during the commotion and gently placed it in your trembling hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice warm and soothing. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You stared at the flower, your fingers trembling around its delicate stem. His kindness was like a balm to the raw ache in your chest.

Noticing you were still shaken, Sabo stepped closer and placed a hand gently on your head, his fingers lightly ruffling your hair in an affectionate gesture. “You don’t deserve any of that. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re less than amazing, okay?”

His words broke something inside you. Tears spilled down your cheeks as the weight of years of judgment and loneliness came crashing down. Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you afloat.

Sabo stiffened for a moment, clearly surprised, but then his arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re safe. You’re not alone.”

You sobbed into his chest, his steady presence grounding you as his words washed over you. For the first time in your life, someone had seen you—not your scars, not your past, but you.

---

When you finally pulled away, you wiped your eyes, feeling lighter yet raw. Sabo gave you a small smile, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

You nodded, though your voice was still shaky. “Thank you… for everything.”

He grinned, a hint of his usual playfulness returning. “Anytime. Someone’s gotta look out for you.”

A question lingered in your mind, and you found the courage to ask it. “Sabo… why do you always buy daffodils?”

He blinked, caught off guard, before a soft chuckle escaped him. “Daffodils are a symbol of good luck,” he said. “I like to keep a little luck with me wherever I go.”

His gaze met yours, his smile turning slightly mischievous. “But, you know, I’ve been starting to think it’s not the flowers that bring me luck. It might just be the person selling them.”

Your cheeks flushed, and Sabo laughed, a light, carefree sound that made the heaviness in your chest dissolve.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing to your stall. “Let’s fix this up. You’ve got a business to run, and I’ve got more flowers to buy.”

As the two of you worked side by side, you couldn’t help but feel, for the first time, that maybe, just maybe, the future didn’t have to be so lonely.

Law

The Polar Tang was quiet save for the hum of the engines. The usual raucous energy of the Heart Pirates had settled into an uncharacteristic stillness, a quiet born from the long day of storms both inside and out. You sat in the ship’s medbay, fidgeting with a roll of gauze in your hands, your mind wandering to the events that had left you here.

The mission had been dangerous—too dangerous, according to Law. He had explicitly warned you and the others to tread carefully. But in the heat of the moment, when you saw one of your crewmates in danger, you didn’t think. You rushed in, shielding them, ignoring the pain that came when debris struck your side. You pushed through the fight, brushing off the blood that seeped from your wound.

No one noticed your injury at first. You didn’t let them. Because that’s what you always did—gave everything you had to make sure everyone else was okay, while quietly swallowing your own pain.

It wasn’t until the adrenaline wore off that you collapsed on the deck, the shocked gasps of your crewmates the last thing you remembered before waking up in the medbay.

---

“You’re an idiot.”

Law’s voice was sharp as he entered the room, his steps deliberate as he approached. He didn’t look at you at first, busying himself with medical supplies on the counter.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, your voice betraying your exhaustion.

He turned then, his gray eyes narrowing. “No, you’re not. You could’ve been seriously hurt—or worse. Do you think that’s fine?”

His tone was cutting, but beneath it, you heard something else. Worry.

“I was just trying to help,” you muttered, your gaze dropping to the gauze in your hands.

Law sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you were. But you can’t keep doing this—throwing yourself into danger like your life doesn’t matter.”

His words struck a nerve, and you looked away, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat.

---

“You don’t get it,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “If I don’t help, if I don’t give something to others, what’s the point? It’s not like anyone’s ever—”

You stopped yourself, biting your lip.

“Ever what?” Law’s voice was softer now, but it still carried weight.

You shook your head, unwilling to meet his gaze. “It doesn’t matter.”

Law was silent for a moment, then he stepped closer, his hands resting on the edge of the bed. “It does matter. You matter.”

The simplicity of his words made your chest ache. You glanced up at him, expecting to see irritation or pity, but his expression was unreadable.

“I don’t—” Your voice broke, and you quickly looked away again.

---

Before you could say more, you felt something unexpected—a hand on your head. Law’s hand. He gently rested it there, his touch firm but surprisingly gentle as his fingers lightly ruffled your hair.

“You don’t always have to be the one giving,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an unusual warmth. “Sometimes, it’s okay to let someone take care of you.”

The lump in your throat grew, and tears stung your eyes. You weren’t used to this—someone comforting you, showing you even a shred of affection. You had spent so long being the one who gave, the one who protected, that you had forgotten what it felt like to receive anything in return.

Tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them, and a soft sob escaped you. Law didn’t pull away, his hand still resting on your head, grounding you.

“Why…” Your voice cracked. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Law’s lips quirked into the faintest of smirks. “Because you’re part of my crew. And I don’t let my crew fall apart—not even the stubborn ones.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight that made your tears flow even harder. Without thinking, you leaned forward, burying your face in his chest as your emotions overwhelmed you.

---

He stiffened slightly at the contact but didn’t push you away. Instead, his hand moved from your head to your back, giving you an awkward but comforting pat.

“You’re not used to this, are you?” he asked, his tone dry but not unkind.

You laughed through your tears, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “What gave it away?”

Law sighed, shaking his head. “You’re a mess,” he muttered, but there was a softness in his eyes that belied his words.

As the tension in the room eased, you found yourself smiling through your tears. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied, standing and grabbing a nearby clipboard. “I still have to lecture you about following orders and not getting yourself killed.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. “Maybe I should’ve just stayed unconscious.”

Law smirked, his usual stoicism giving way to a rare moment of humor. “Don’t tempt me to use Room to keep you in check next time.”

Despite everything, you laughed, the sound light and genuine. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone.