#so some side characters days are NUMBERED

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: you wash parker's absolute nightmare hair.

CHARACTER: parker bradley

COMMENTS: hello!! post realization fics? hello...? WHERE ARE YOU

“Ow—ow—owwie!”

“How the hell is your hair crunchy?” you whine, dismayed as the colorful strands tangle around your fingers.

“It was paper a little while ago,” Parker quips, jerking his head back to look at you.

The bath water sloshes around his body as you gently tilt his head back down. His knees are pulled up to his chest, Twister swimwear distorted in the bubbly water. Your shampoo and conditioner rest by your side on the rim of the tub, the cap on the shampoo popped off. Your hands run through your boyfriend’s hair as gently as possible, raking out any of the knots that had formed there throughout the day. Having never thoroughly washed his hair before (since he had never really needed to) Parker had asked for your assistance on the matter.

And had promptly turned bright red when he understood what that would mean for his modesty.

You squirt some shampoo into your hand and descend upon his rainbow tangles. A soft murmur of close your eyes is all you have to say, and he obeys. His head rocks back and forth with the gentle motions of your fingers. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was falling asleep, the quiet sloshing noises of the bath rocking him right to a pruney slumber. What breaks the spell is his hand, fumbling for you, his shoulder bending uncomfortably before his hand settles on your thigh.

“That feels nice,” he murmurs, softer than the glow of your bathroom lights.

“That’s the idea,” you laugh quietly.

Your focused expression melts into one of affection when he squeezes the flesh beneath his hand, an affirmation that he hears every word you don’t say out loud, even the embarrassing ones. Especially the embarrassing ones.

Parker takes his hand off of your thigh, and you miss him almost immediately.

“I’m going to rinse it out now, okay?” you warn him, grabbing the detachable shower head, “Keep your eyes closed. I’ll hand you a towel once it’s over.”

You lean forward to glance at his face, cracking a smile when you see just how hard he’s clenching his eyes shut. Poor Parker—his vision must be getting spotty from his enthusiastic obedience. You turn on the shower head and work the suds out of his hair, trying to keep as much of them out of his face as you can. He smells of your body wash and sunscreen, with a hint of the bug spray he applied this morning.

(The rules of summer said that everyone who had plans to step outside that day must be wearing such protections, of course. Since you had no big, floppy hats lying around the house, an umbrella would surely do. You had gotten many weird looks after your successful “big ol’ hats” shopping trip, but it had been worth it to see his outrage at your rule breaking turn to satisfaction at your rule following.)

“Are they out now?” he asks, and it’s then that you realize you’re still lovingly caressing his very much shampoo free hair.

“Just being thorough,” you giggle, shaking your head at your own lovesickness.

You apply the conditioner in much the same way, except you work it in for longer. Parker doesn’t seem to mind one bit, content to lean into your every touch, satisfied by your tender love alone. It’s a humble offering you could give to a man so lovely, so fun, but you are glad that it's enough. When the time is right, you wash out the conditioner as well, resisting the urge to rain kisses upon his freshly cleaned hair. You could partake in such scandalous activities when his hair was fluffy and fresh again.

“Towel,” you say, pressing the item to his shoulder.

Parker takes it gratefully, wiping the water and excess product away from his eyes. For the nth number of times that evening, he turns to look at you, and you swear you see little hearts floating in his eyes. He’s dripping, hair soaked like a wet dog, each droplet plopping into the water with a comical plip, plip, plip, and against the wishes of your pounding heart to preserve this moment, you laugh.

“Why are you laughing!?” Parker screeches, blushing profusely, “You’d better not be looking at my nipples—”

“No, Parker, don’t you even think about saying it—” you cackle, throwing your head back as you playfully whack his shoulder, “You just look so cute.”

He freezes, mouth opening and closing like a fish as blood floods his cheeks. Your laughter dies down and you sigh, smiling so hard it hurts. Parker mumbles something under his breath, pulling his knees closer to his chin as he looks bashfully down at his feet.

“What was that?” you tease, cupping your ear as you lean in.

“I said, I love you,” he repeats, finally able to speak against the crashing waves of your love.

“And I, you,” you beam, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

He’s so warm. And you're so, so lucky.

[enduringsurviving]

ADAPTATION | e.w.

SYNOPSIS: Ellie wakes up one morning to find that she is showing symptoms of infection but her sanity remains in tact. While navigating the cruel and dangerous wilderness outside of Jackson, she must learn to adapt to the changes that are rapidly affecting her, and the sense of newfound isolation that comes with them.

WORD COUNT: 13,061

TAGS/WARNINGS: minor, canon-typical violence, minor injuries, post-canon, open/ambiguous ending, inspired by fanart, body horror, swearing, suicidal ideation (extremely brief), angst, character study, ellie-centric, original character

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello everyone! Firstly, a HUGE thank you to the artist who's fanart inspired me to write this all the way back in 2022! They are @/teamashina on Twitter, and here is the link to the amazing work of art that gave me this idea. Ellie showing signs of infection but remaining sane is their idea! They have so much fanart relating to this concept and it is all so cool so please check it out. Also, this isn't an x reader fic, and I apologize for tagging it as such. I'm saying this now because the last thing I want is for anyone to feel mislead! But I wanted this fic to get as much exposure as possible, so I hope everyone can understand ❤️ Lastly, of course, I hope everyone enjoys!

(dividers by @/sister-lucifer on tumblr!)

(this fic is a reupload! old account was @/sundownpromises-inactive)

After Ellie had visited the farmhouse one last time, she was then completely on her own.

Ellie craved stability. In the middle of nowhere, where danger loomed around every corner, she missed having a roof over her head. Shelter was often hard to come by and Ellie found herself sleeping in less than ideal places – an abandoned car that was dirty, cramped, and cluttered, or if she was lucky, maybe she’d come across a small, nearly picked-over convenience store.

She was exhausted, walking with heavy steps due to frequent tossing and turning and being woken up by the slightest of noises, most of them imagined. Sometimes, whenever she closed her eyes, she dreamt of her small room back in Jackson; she imagined the feeling of her soft mattress and thick blanket, the warm glow of her fairy lights, her comic books scattered across the table. It was almost as if she was really there, and everyone that she loved was still in her life, and she got to see them everyday. But when the sun peeked over the horizon, and Ellie was stirred awake, the mirage once again faded into the darkness, just out of reach. 

Ellie found herself residing in a travel van stuck on a lonely highway after walking on sore feet for several hours in a randomly chosen direction, hoping to stumble upon something, anything worthwhile. Most days were uneventful and never caught Ellie by surprise. Food wasn’t readily available, but Ellie’s hunting skills had been honed and sharpened by that point and wasn’t much of a challenge for her. On the more exciting days, infected wandered a bit too close to the van, leaving Ellie to take care of them swiftly and quietly. Often it was one or two, but sometimes they came in larger numbers. Ellie still had her beloved switchblade with her that she cleaned and took care of to the best of her ability that became her best friend when a group of runners decided to pay her a visit.

Ellie's run-ins with infected didn't always end with her leaving unscathed, though. The bite on Ellie's arm, partially hidden by her tattoo and the chemical burn, was now accompanied by a plethora of other bites, including one on her shoulder and a couple on her other arm; But they were nothing but mild annoyances.

Ellie would say she was doing fairly well, even if it didn’t look like it. Her hair was on the longer side and fell into her eyes a lot. She had lost a significant amount of weight, as her food supply wasn’t as steady as it once was and some days she would be unlucky on her hunting trips. She adjusted to only having eight fingers far more quickly than she initially thought she would. She could still hold her weapons just fine and her accuracy didn’t change too drastically. She was still alive and breathing; even if she felt and looked like shit, that’s what was most important. 

There wasn’t much at all that could be done for entertainment. She still wrote and drew things in her journal, almost having filled up every page. She had to start using the backs of pages now.

Her journal entries were usually fairly short. There was nothing very interesting to document in her life, after all. She had been writing more poems, though. They were also short, many of them unfinished. But sometimes she was able to better communicate her feelings through a few words and single sentences.

Her drawings, though, were more frequent. It was mostly random objects or something that caught her attention while hunting or simply walking outside for fresh air. Maybe it was a carcass being picked at by a flock of birds, or random, lost objects that once belonged to a person, now forever buried with overgrowth. Other times she drew her memories. Dina and JJ. Joel. Jesse. These people were all gone but she felt they had to be immortalized in some way.

Although Ellie knew she might have been better off than others, she could never stop thinking about the place she once called home. The people of Jackson weren’t trigger happy like the Wolfs or a fucked-up, sheltered cult like the Seraphites. They were accepting, willing to take anyone in with open arms. Surely they would welcome Ellie back, right?

She felt that she had waited long enough, and there was only one way to find out.

When Ellie woke up one morning, ready to pack and head out for Jackson, she made a discovery that stopped her in her tracks. 

She sat up in the small space of her bed, staring at her arm in shock, confusion, and fear.

Her arm was partially covered in a hard fungal growth, and it had effectively torn through the fabric of her brown flannel. It was only a small section of her arm, and it just barely covered part of her fern tattoo. She touched it, wincing in advance as she anticipated pain, but she felt nothing. Frantically, she felt her face and her legs, feeling for the same growth, but it seemed to only be her arm. Ellie wasn’t sure how to process the slight changes that her body had undergone overnight. Was her luck finally running out? Was her immunity only temporary? These were all questions that polluted her mind like oil to water. 

There wasn’t much Ellie could do other than brush it off – even though turning into a clicker was not something one could necessarily forget about as if it was a minor inconvenience. 

The whole day, Ellie kept stealing glances at her arm to see if the growth would spread, but it remained in that one area. When she had sat down to eat dinner, she pulled out her journal, flipping through countless pages before eventually opening it up to a blank page, pencil in hand as she chewed on two-day old rabbit.

What’s happening to me?

I woke up this morning and saw something had happened to my arm. There was fungal growth. It scared the fuck outta me.

What does this mean?

My immunity couldn’t have just disappeared yesterday. If that was the case, I would’ve woken up a runner. It seems like my body has just completely skipped the earlier stages of infection. It takes… a fuck-ton of time to turn into a clicker. Why am I turning into one in only 24 hours? I don’t know what to do and I’m terrified. I tried breaking it off. But it’s so damn hard. Harder than it looks. It’s sturdy. Being covered in this might feel as if you’re wearing a fucking suit of armor.

We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

And tomorrow brought, well, even more surprises. Unpleasant ones. 

When Ellie had awoken, the growth had spread to more areas of her body rapidly. Small sections of both of her legs were now covered in the same growth, as well as her other arm. Much to Ellie's horror, when she had felt her face, she was terrified to know that the growth had finally reached her face, too. It was protruding from her cheek in a way that may have looked like it should have hurt, but once again, she felt nothing. From her discoveries yesterday she knew that she wouldn't be able to remove them and yet she tried anyway, bending and twisting and manipulating the tough fungal plates using all the strength she could muster. But to no avail.

Ellie spent the day much like how she spent yesterday, only significantly more perplexed. She had hoped that yesterday was just an awful dream, and that when she woke up the next day her arm would be clear and only her tattoo would remain. 

Ellie tried to make sense of this, but couldn't, no matter how long she sat and thought about it. She wasn't twitching erratically or moving in any way an actual infected person would, which she thought was a good sign. But something she did notice was how her senses had seemingly increased in strength.

She first noticed these changes when she was sitting at the table, scribbling away in her journal like she usually did. But the sentence she was currently writing was cut short when suddenly her stomach began cramping in unbelievable pain. 

It was so terrible that she had fallen out of her seat, clutching her stomach tightly, tears welling up in her eyes. She was convulsing, nausea overcoming her, the room spinning. She genuinely felt as if she would die right there on the floor if she didn't devour something, and quickly. 

The leftover rabbit meat that she had stored away in a cabinet somewhere had become extremely potent; what usually had no smell began producing a scent that was like nothing Ellie had ever smelled. It smelled so good, almost too good, and Ellie tried her damnedest to get up so she could retrieve it. It was a struggle, as she could barely stand on her feet and every time she tried she just ended up back where she started. But through enough persistence she succeeded. She ran to where she stored the rabbit meat, keeping it wrapped up in a clean cloth. Her eyes widened as she saw that she only had a single strip of meat left. She ate it, so fast that she could've choked and she nearly bit off her fingers. But it wasn't enough, and she knew it wouldn't be enough. The pain within her stomach continued, so she stumbled over to the bed, bumping into the edges of things on the short trip there. She collapsed onto the bed, the sharp, unwavering pain rendering her motionless.

Ellie weeped and sobbed, thinking to herself that death would be preferable in this moment. Right as she began contemplating it, her gun just out of reach in her bag, she passed out before she could do anything.

Ellie's eyes had fluttered open for the second time that day. When she had woken up, the sunset was filtering in through the windows of the van. She had been out for a while.

Fortunately, the pain was gone. Ellie needed to hunt; she was completely out of rabbit meat now. But she was far too weak and felt exhausted from what she had experienced earlier. Her throat was dry, but she had no water either.

She had just enough energy to get up and grab her journal before returning to the warmth and comfort of her bed. She decided to just stay curled up in bed for the rest of day, having been pushed to her limits just a few hours ago.

She opened up her journal to where she remembered writing a new entry. She read it curiously, wondering where she left off. 

The fungal growth has spread. It's all over me now. It fucking sucks, to put it lightly.

It feels kind of itchy. Not enough to be awful, but just enough to be slightly annoying. Still no pain, though. I tried breaking it off again this morning knowing that I would get the same results.

I can't see what I look like. There's no mirror in this damn van. But I imagine I look hideous. 

I don't understand why this is happening to me. All of this has got to be some fucking nightm

The spelling of the last word was left unfinished, and Ellie was immediately reminded of the pain that had overwhelmed her in that moment. She slammed the journal shut.

Ellie thought about writing another entry, but instead, she laid back down, closing her eyes. All she wanted was sleep. The fungal growth made some sleeping positions uncomfortable, so she opted for simply lying on her back, letting out a tired sigh.

Sleep never actually caught up to her, though, as she heard the sound of voices from outside.

The voices were loud and clear, not coming from outside the van but from a distance. Ellie was startled at the fact that she could hear them so clearly from seemingly so far away and could even differentiate the tone of each voice – a woman and a man. She remained still, wondering if they were just wanderers. 

It was impossible to try to sleep then, because all she could hear was their conversation. She picked up every word.

"We've been walking for ages and haven't found anything."

"I'm sure we'll find somewhere to hole up eventually. We gotta keep searchi-"

"Hey! Look up ahead! Is that a van?"

"Holy shit. Let's get closer and check it out."

Ellie had immediately raised up in bed, grabbing her bag that was right next to her and unzipping it with great haste. She reached in and grabbed her pistol, reloading it swiftly. She stayed where she was, keeping the weapon firmly grasped within her hand. She listened closely to the people's footsteps, continuing to listen to the words exchanged between them (not that she had much of a choice because their voices were so goddamn loud– her hearing had drastically improved).

"You think there's anyone in there?"

"One way to find out." 

"We should knock." 

"Or we could just-"

"Let's knock, Travis. If someone is in there we could get shot on sight." 

"Fine."

After several minutes, Ellie could tell that they were right outside the entrance to the van. She kept her finger gently resting on the trigger, completely still, like a snake silently waiting to attack its prey. She could hear every thump of her heartbeat in her ears.

Then, she heard another sound. The sound of knocking. It was heavy and loud, the person making their presence known. The deeper voice of the man had asked a question from outside the door.

"Is anyone in there?" 

Ellie didn't respond; not right away, anyway. She slowly got out of bed, coming just slightly closer to the door, keeping her gun trained in that direction. Fatigue was still coursing through her, but she used what little strength she had to keep her arms steady and her gaze focused. After clearing her throat, Ellie replied.

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice calm but firm.

There was silence on the other end for a few minutes before the woman responded. 

"We don't want any trouble. We've been walking for a while and we need someplace to rest. I'm Kathy, and the voice you heard before is my husband, Travis." 

Ellie remained silent. Travis spoke up again. 

"Please. My wife is pregnant." He said, his voice wavering. 

Ellie sighed, lowering the gun, but keeping it within her grasp. She weighed her options, feeling conflicted with the choices presented to her. Ellie wanted to invite them in, The van was a small space, and it would certainly begin to feel claustrophobic with the addition of two people, but she was vehemently against the idea of sending them walking again. Ellie had so much blood on her hands from taking away so many lives on her journey for vengeance, but now, with her violent history behind her, the least she could do was help people when they needed helping. But Ellie was also fully aware of what she looked like at the moment; these people probably wouldn’t want to be around her for very long. They may even shoot her on sight once she opens the door. She walks like a human, and talks like a human, but her body took on a drastic transformation, one that would definitely cause people to look at her differently. People were going to fear her and Ellie was going to be even more isolated than she already was. 

She had only been living out of the van for a few weeks; it was only just now starting to feel like home. But she knew the choice she had to make. The choice she wanted to make.

Ellie must've been silent for too long, prompting Kathy to speak again. 

"Please." Was all she said, her tone hopeful. Ellie took small steps toward the door, unlocking it, before backing up again. Her finger was still just barely brushing against the trigger of the gun as spoke, her voice just barely loud enough for them to hear, “come in.”

They didn't come in immediately. Ellie imagined that they both must've been taken aback by being invited in and expected to be shooed away. But, after only a couple of minutes, the door was opened, the hinges emitting a loud, telltale creak.

Kathy and Travis had stepped inside the van tentatively. When their eyes landed on Ellie standing across from them, Travis wasted no time in slinging his rifle off of his shoulder and pointing it directly at her.

“What the hell – you’re – you’re infected–” He stammered, eyes wide, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Kathy had defensively pulled out a pistol from a holster that was attached to her thigh, but she wasn’t aiming it. Instead, she merely looked at Ellie, eyebrows drawn together in bewilderment. Travis had stepped in front of her protectively, but Kathy immediately stepped aside him again, placing a hand on Travis’s rifle and gently lowering it. Travis’s eyes snapped to his wife, and he raised an eyebrow at her, as if silently questioning her. 

“It’s okay, Travis. Relax.” Kathy said in a soft-spoken yet firm voice. Travis couldn’t seem to take her advice, shoulders still visibly tense, his fingers gripping his rifle tightly as if the weapon would grow wings and fly away. Nonetheless, he didn’t try to retaliate, and he let his wife try to take control of the situation. But he kept his eyes trained on Ellie carefully, prepared to strike if the situation ever called for it.

Kathy continued to speak. “I’ve never seen someone like you before. You look like a clicker… but you’re not… y’know, batshit crazy.” She said.

“I don’t know what happened. I can’t– I couldn’t explain it to you. But I promise I’m not… a threat.” Ellie responded. 

Travis scoffed. It seemed like he gave all his might to stay silent but eventually caved in and spoke anyway, much to his wife’s distaste. “Bullshit. Just because you may be walking and talking like us doesn’t mean anything. You could still just suddenly snap for all we know.” He replied. Kathy placed a gentle hand on Travis’s shoulder, but the glare she had sent him was anything but gentle. Travis could only laugh in response, as if what he said was something completely absurd and not within the realm of possibility. 

“Why are you looking at me like that, honey? Do you seriously feel safe around her? We need to go somewhere else.” 

Kathy immediately shook her head. “No. We’ve been walking around for hours. I’m fucking exhausted, Travis! I’m not going back out there. I’m not.”

Travis gave Ellie a quick up and down, disgust written all over his face. “I’m not sharing this van with her. She is a danger to us all. You’re pregnant, and I can’t risk anything.” 

“And you’re gonna make a pregnant woman walk some more?” 

“Goddamn it, Kathy, we don’t know what we’re working with here!”

Kathy crossed her arms in growing frustration, her jaw clenched as she tried to remain level-headed. Ellie had gotten enough of their bickering and moved to the bed to retrieve her backpack. Travis’s eyes had quickly bounced to Ellie the second he saw her movement out of the corner of his eye. Kathy turned her head to observe Ellie as well, and they both fell silent. Ellie could feel their eyes boring into the back of her skull as she holstered her gun and put her journal inside her backpack, zipping it closed. She felt her back pocket briefly, just to make certain that her switchblade was there. Lastly, she grabbed Joel’s tan leather jacket from where it had been haphazardly thrown on the bed, hastily putting it on. When she had everything she needed, she turned around, yet again meeting eyes with the married couple who watched her every move. It was almost as if they were waiting for her to twitch.

Ellie cleared her throat. “The van is all yours.” she firmly stated, leaving no room for disagreement, making her way toward the door. Travis didn’t waste a second moving out of the way of the door, but Kathy was hesitant; she stayed standing where she was as if she was tethered to the floor, looking at Ellie pitifully. Her lips were fixed in a slight frown and her expression could only be read as sympathetic. Ellie mustered a barely noticeable smile, hoping to extinguish any feelings of sorrow that Kathy was feeling. 

Kathy stood in front of the door for several minutes before finally moving to the side, joining her husband. Ellie sauntered toward the door, her footsteps heavy, but before she left, she glanced at the married couple over her shoulder one last time. Kathy had waved at her, returning the same smile that Ellie had given mere seconds ago. Her eyes then migrated to Travis, who’s expression was dour, large hands still clutching his gun; Kathy had holstered hers long ago.

Despite the situation that Ellie found herself in, she could only feel content. The travel van that she was just beginning to call her home was no longer hers, but she didn’t feel sorrow when she had to part with it. Ellie’s conscience was put at ease knowing that she had just helped a couple, soon-to-be-family, find somewhere stable and mostly secure to settle down in, even if just for the time being. 

She stole one last look at the van, before focusing her attention on the imaginary path ahead of her – but she had only taken a couple of steps before she heard the door of the van swing open once more. She turned around, being greeted by Kathy, who was holding a handful of granola bars with an apologetic smile. She waved Ellie over, gesturing for her to come closer. Ellie obeyed, silently walking over and looking at her curiously.

When she approached, she held out her hands, waiting for Ellie to accept her offering. "Take these," she said, voice firm. "It wouldn't be right for us to kick you out and not give you a, uh…. parting gift, of some sort." She spoke.

Ellie shook her head. "You didn't kick me out. It's okay, really," she glanced at the granola bars in Kathy's hands. "And you should keep those. Any kind of food is hard to come by all the way out here." 

Kathy sighed, eyebrows furrowing in bubbling impatience. Suddenly, with confident strides, she walked behind Ellie and unzipped her backpack, stuffing the granola bars inside. "Exactly, which is even more of a reason to give you these." She said as she closed up the backpack. When she was facing Ellie again, she let out a series of chuckles upon seeing Ellie's look of defeat, standing there with her bag just a little heavier.

Ellie adjusted the straps of her backpack as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Thanks. That was, uh… really kind of you." 

Kathy absentmindedly rested her hand on her protruding stomach. "It was the least I could do." 

There were a few beats of silence that passed between the two women as they looked at each other, sharing glances of mutual acknowledgment at the fact they would be parting ways. Kathy gave Ellie one final grin, waving once more and waiting half a second for Ellie to wave back, before heading back toward the entrance of the van. Ellie continued to stare until the door was closed shut.

Once again, that familiar feeling of loneliness had reappeared as she looked at the road ahead of her, walking forward into the unknown. 

She wasn’t sure where she was going, she was simply letting her feet take her where they wanted to go. Ellie wasn’t in any rush, either, walking casually as if she was taking a stroll in the park. On either side of her was nothing but forest, the trees tall and imposing, the leaves moving gracefully in the breeze, seemingly breathing as if alive. There were plenty of broken down cars alongside the road, and the occasional animal that would always scurry away once they picked up Ellie’s scent. 

The sky was still a captivating blend of oranges and pinks, but it was noticeably getting darker. There was a slight chill in the air, causing Ellie to wrap Joel's– her jacket around her body more securely, tucking her hands inside of her arms, trying to keep them warm. She was grateful for the granola bars that Kathy had given her, having devoured two of them earlier along her journey. If only she had water to wash everything down; the assortment of nuts and oats not doing much for her already dry throat.

Surprisingly, she hadn’t encountered much trouble during her walk. It was almost unsettling, how barren the world around her was. Ellie observed her surroundings closely, her eyes moving a mile a minute as she anticipated an ambush, whether it be from people or infected. She was tense, ready to pull her pistol from its holster at the slightest of sounds. But the journey remained relatively peaceful. It was a stark contrast from places like Seattle, where Ellie couldn’t go anywhere without a Wolf or a Scar ready to ruin her plans. For the first time ever, even if only momentarily, being alone was not a miserable experience for Ellie, but a tranquil one. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the calming amalgamation of nature’s sounds and the sound of her feet softly hitting the pavement. It was during this moment that fatigue was settling within her aching bones, her gait gradually becoming slower, her eyelids getting harder and harder to keep open without effort. Ellie briefly considered curling up on the side of the road, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she was startled awake by the sound of loud and penetrating voices hitting her ears.

Her eyes shot open, looking left, right, and behind her, before realizing that the voices were coming from up ahead. She heard the sound of a group of men conversing with one another before she actually saw them.

“I’m fucking starving. I could eat a horse.”

“We’re all hungry. Just stop complaining, for fuck’s sake.”

“We’re in shitty shape, man. No food. No shelter. Barely any water because your dumbass drank it all. Y’know, I think it’s your fault we’re in this situation.”

“Are you two really bickering right now? Shut the fuck up, Jesus.”

It was mostly dark now, so she quickly turned on her flashlight, but the light was dim and barely helped her with seeing a few feet in front of her. A curse word fell from her lips, knowing full well she didn’t have spare batteries. She thought it would be a better idea to conserve what little light the flashlight was producing, clicking it off. 

The group of men had come into Ellie’s view eventually, and she noticed that they were all heavily armed, with a dog keeping close to their side. Ellie removed her pistol from its holster, gripping it securely. It took several minutes for the men to notice her, but when they did, they stopped for a few long seconds, exchanging words with one another, their voices barely above a whisper. Little did they know, Ellie’s hearing had bettered significantly, and she was tuning in to every sentence.

“That woman looks pretty fucked up. I say we leave her alone.”

“She’s got a backpack. It might be worth searching.”

“Let’s just focus on getting where we need to go-”

“It’s four of us, one of her. We can take her out easily. Let’s get closer.”

Ellie’s finger was now resting on the trigger of her gun. She continued walking closer to them, slowly closing the distance between them. One of the men leading the group spoke first.

“Hey! You there! You alright?” He shouted. He was clad in all black, a shotgun being held in his grasp. 

Ellie didn’t respond. Once again, she began observing her surroundings, searching for a potential escape route. Ellie realized fairly quickly that her best bet would be darting off into the forest if she wanted to lose them. The second man who was walking beside the leader nudged his arm to grab his attention, a sickening smirk resting on his lips. He was carrying another long gun; a rifle. He muttered something else to the man in charge, which obviously did not go unnoticed by Ellie.

“Is she deaf, or what?” He said with a chuckle. The leader only glared at him, effectively silencing him as he returned his attention to Ellie. The distance between her and the men was shrinking, and Ellie, not wanting to immediately provoke them, began walking backwards. She had passed a clearing into the forest on her right side, and decided that she would make a mad dash through the trees.

The leader provoked Ellie once more, this time, his voice much less friendly than before. “Where are you going? We just wanna talk. Maybe we could help each other out.” 

On the surface, his request sounded innocent, but by the sinister smiles plastered on his henchmen’s face, to the overall intimidating nature that they all shared, Ellie had put two and two together. 

But, in typical Ellie fashion, she gave them all the finger before sprinting into the clearing, narrowly avoiding gunshots, the harsh and piercing sound of bullets firing clashing with the gentler sounds of the natural world around them.

With only the moon illuminating Ellie’s path, she had a difficult time trying to see exactly where she was going, noticing a large branch on the ground just a couple seconds too late, tripping over it and landing on the ground. It was during this fall that she also noticed there was a steep incline, steeper than she thought it was, and she was sent rolling down a small hill. She was stopped by a large, thick log, rolling into it and feeling the pain shoot through her shoulder. 

Ellie was effectively winded, frozen on the ground as she tried to recuperate, breathing in and out through her nose heavily. Adrenaline had long been running through her veins, giving her just enough energy to power through the intense pain in her shoulder to stand up. She blinked a few times, her vision spotty; and once she was able to see the environment around her clearly again, she soon realized that her gun had fallen out of her hand some time during her trip down the hill. Panic hit her hard like a bucket of cold ice water as she fell to the ground again, knees digging into the dirt as she pushed away fallen leaves, feeling for the cold metal of her pistol. The men were surely chasing after her and she knew her gun was around here somewhere.

As if matters couldn't get any worse, Ellie picked up the telltale sound of groans and clicking in the distance that never failed to send chills down her spine; and the sounds were very quickly getting closer. 

When Ellie had finally found her pistol, she hastily brushed off leaves and dirt, but before she could even make her next move, there was a horde of infected already shambling toward her from behind, snarling and feral. Ellie was stuck in a crossroads, not wanting to turn her back on the road – but the infected made themselves the more immediate problem. Ellie could see them getting closer and closer. She raised her arm, releasing shaky breaths. She took one step back – stepping on a large rock and losing her footing.

When she felt herself falling to the ground again, a loud shriek escaped her throat, followed by a string of profanities. The infected were right in front of her now, and there was no way Ellie could get back up in time to defend herself.

“She ran in here!” She heard one of the men shout. Ellie shut her eyes tight, believing that her fate had already been sealed, waiting to either get torn apart by the runners or shot to death by the men. 

But neither happened.

The infected had completely surrounded her, but they weren’t attacking. No, they weren’t even looking at Ellie. They seemed to be attracted to the sound of the men shouting, looking around frantically, groaning and convulsing, completely animalistic at the smell of fresh meat. Ellie looked up at them from where she was still lying on the ground, complete and utter bewilderment coloring her features. They weren’t interested in her.

Ellie stood up, slowly, brushing herself off. All of the runners had glanced at her and were aware of their presence, and yet they never touched her; she might as well have been a tree or a rock with how disinterested they were in her.

When the men finally caught up, out of breath and red in the face, they looked ahead, immediately noticing the hoard. But they also noticed Ellie standing directly in the center of it.

One of the henchmen’s jaws practically dropped to the forest floor, watching the sight in front of him in disbelief, fear chilling him to the bone and keeping him frozen. All of the men shared a similar expression, and Ellie could only chuckle at how their eyes comically popped out of their heads.

“Look, everyone.” Ellie spoke to the infected as if they were old friends, feeling a newfound power. “Fresh meat.” 

As if on cue, the runners attacked the four men before they could regain their wits and aim their weapons. The runners wasted no time in digging in, the men screaming in unimaginable agony – until they weren’t, and only the sounds of aggressive chewing could be heard. The dog that was with them had sprinted off into the forest, and Ellie watched the fluffy animal disappear into the distance before refocusing her attention on the runners and their feast.

While the runners were eating, Ellie approached the corpses, checking their pockets (she had to push some runners out of the way, to which some of them would grumble angrily before deciding to snack elsewhere). She took whatever ammunition she could find, stealing the rifle and shotgun as well, both weapons fortunately having been equipped with shoulder straps for easy transportation.

One of the henchmen, who was in the middle of having his leg devoured, had a map in his pocket. When Ellie unfolded it, she gave it a quick once over and realized that it was a map leading to Jackson. Ellie wasn’t sure where she was, but according to the map, Jackson was merely miles away. Not exactly close on foot, but just knowing that the place she once called her home was somewhat nearby took her by surprise. Her plans on returning to Jackson had effectively been turned upside down after the transformations that her body had undergone – but she pocketed the map anyway. Besides showing the location of Jackson, it also displayed nearby restaurants and convenience stores, which could definitely be worth scavenging.

She let the runners finish their meal, walking a little bit further into the forest and sitting down on a tree stump to catch her breath and process everything that had just occurred within the last several minutes.

She turned on her flashlight, removing her backpack from her shoulders. The dim lighting was just enough for Ellie to locate her journal within the bag. She pulled it out, as well as a pen, and opened her journal to a fresh page. She felt the need to document the changes that were happening to her body to better understand everything that she had been experiencing.

Before she began writing, though, she reached into her bag once more to pull out a granola bar. After unwrapping it, she finished it in just a few bites. She threw the wrapper to the ground and finally put her pen to the paper.

Okay. I totally just fucking cheated death just now.

Not only are mushrooms growing out of me, but I have superpowers too, apparently.

I can hear peoples’ voices from miles away as if they’re standing right next to me. I can smell everything around me – the grass, the soil, rotting animal carcasses… I could even faintly smell those guys who tried to kill me before I even saw them. 

I also feel hunger more intensely than the average person. Whenever I get hungry, I get these god awful cramps that hurt more than any other kind of pain I’ve ever fucking experienced. Thankfully, though, I haven’t felt the desire to eat human flesh. Not yet, anyway.

The craziest thing, though, is the fact that other infected don't even pay attention to me. Like I’m not even there. They get close to me, but they aren’t hostile. I still can’t believe it. 

When all this shit started happening to me, I thought I was some kind of monster. But all of these… symptoms of my infection… are actually proving to be kind of useful. I’m conflicted.

I’ve never felt more alone. There’s nobody else going through this but me. I wish I had answers. I wish

Ellie stopped mid-sentence when she felt a cold nose poking her hand. Startled, she retracted her hand, but her nerves were quickly calmed when she noticed that it was the dog from earlier. He was a beautiful golden retriever, although he wasn’t very golden anymore because of how dirty he was. A small grin broke out on Ellie’s face, and she reached her hand out, hesitant, anticipating aggressiveness, but the dog didn’t growl or bare any teeth – instead, he sat there patiently, tail wagging as he waited to be pet. Ellie did just that, running her fingers through his slightly matted fur. Pets were never really Ellie’s thing – but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t thoroughly enjoying the furry friend’s company.

“Hey, buddy,” Ellie said softly. “I thought you had run away.”

The dog just continued to sit there, staring up at Ellie with big, round eyes. Ellie’s heart was warm at how truly and undeniably adorable he was. In a world full of ugly people, infected and non-infected alike, this wide-eyed golden retriever that was currently resting his head on Ellie’s leg, satisfied at receiving affection, was a reminder that not everything in this world was ugly.

An idea had popped into Ellie’s mind, causing her to momentarily pause the headpats that she was giving. The dog whined, nudging her hand. Ellie giggled at the feeling. 

“Wait just a moment, buddy. Are you hungry? I got something for you.” Ellie said.

She closed her journal and put it back in her bag, the pen acting as a bookmark, mentally making a note that she would finish the entry later. She then pulled out the very last granola bar (it was chocolate free, Ellie noted).

The dog’s ears perked up at the crinkle of the wrapper. When the granola bar was free from its plastic sheath, Ellie placed it in the palm of her hand, holding it out to him. The dog sniffed the bar curiously, briefly looking up at Ellie as if asking for permission to eat it. Ellie smiled. “Go on. It’s all yours.” She muttered, and as if the dog could understand her, he gobbled up the granola bar in one bite. 

While he was chewing, Ellie glanced at the dog’s neck. She noticed that he was wearing a collar. She reached out and grabbed the silver pendant, holding up the flashlight in front of it to read the engraving. 

“Your name is… Otis? God, who would name you Otis?” Ellie spoke in an amused tone, a laugh bubbling out of her throat. 

After the touching moment, silence had befell the both of them briefly. Otis’s head had returned to its resting position on top of Ellie’s leg, and Ellie absentmindedly continued petting him as she stared off into space. It was nearly pitch black outside if not for the moonlight and Ellie didn’t feel entirely comfortable continuing her journey on the road without being able to see her surroundings very well – it seemed like another ambush just waiting to happen. But Ellie didn’t seem to have much of a choice; sleeping in the middle of the forest didn’t seem to provide a lot of safety either.

The gears in Ellie’s mind were turning as she considered her options. But she was suddenly stirred by her thoughts when Otis had run off into the distance, and Ellie had immediately missed the warmth of his head on her leg and the feeling of his fur between her fingers. She sighed, getting up and slinging her backpack on, her muscles sore and aching from the events that had transpired just moments prior. She could especially feel the pain in her shoulder now that the adrenaline had dissipated. She knew without even having to look at it that there was definitely a pretty black and blue bruise that had formed.

Ellie stood up from the tree stump, stretching her limbs, before making her way back to the open road.

She didn’t get very far, though, when she heard two loud barks. She froze in her tracks, a smile almost immediately breaking out on her face when she turned around to be met with Otis again. She kneeled down and opened her arms, to which Otis ran into Ellie’s embrace happily. 

“Are you gonna leave me or not? Make up your mind, little guy.” She asked playfully. Otis barked again, and Ellie put a finger to her lips as if Otis could understand what that meant.

“Quiet, boy. We don’t wanna attract any unwanted attention, yeah? I’m still pretty worn out from earlier, aren’t you?” Ellie questioned with a lighthearted chuckle.

Otis allowed Ellie to pet him a few more times before removing himself from her arms and scurrying off again, but this time he stopped just a little bit ahead of Ellie, staring at her with those big, round eyes. His tail was wagging behind him excitedly. Ellie cocked her head, much like a confused animal would, returning the eye contact with Otis.

“What is it, boy?” Ellie asked. Otis trotted only a tad further into the distance before stopping again and turning his head to look at Ellie once more. 

“Ah, I see,” Ellie began. “You want me to, uh… follow you?”

As if trying to answer her question, Otis barked again. Ellie immediately kicked into gear, following the dog just to get him to stop making noise.

“Okay, okay.” Ellie said.

Ellie followed Otis silently, wondering to herself why she was even following some random dog in the first place. You should be back on that road, Ellie thought. This is a complete waste of time.

Ellie sighed, considering turning around and leaving the dog for good as it seemed like he just wanted to go on a stroll, until she saw something just up ahead. A cabin.

Otis had led Ellie to shelter.

A grin that stretched from ear to ear appeared on Ellie's face, her eyes widening in surprise. She called Otis over and showered him affection, endless praise spilling from her lips.

"You're the best, aren't you, boy? I'll take this over a fucking travel van any day." 

Ellie slowly walked up to the cabin, Otis following close behind. From what she could see outside, she noticed a warm, faint glow emanating through the front windows, perhaps from a fireplace or a lantern.

Removing her pistol from its holster, she knocked on the large wooden door. It didn’t open immediately, which Ellie had expected. Instead, she heard a muffled voice from the other side. 

“What do you want?” She said curtly, her voice stern. Otis’s ears perked up at the sound of the person’s voice, her tail wagging in eagerness. 

“I don’t want any trouble. I, uh… I need somewhere to sleep for the night.” Ellie replied. There was silence on the other end for several minutes as the person was seemingly contemplating. The silence stretched on for so long that even Otis had become impatient, letting out high-pitched whines. Ellie placed a comforting hand on his head, rubbing gently.

Ellie sighed, tiredly running her other hand through her unkempt hair. “Please… I just need someplace to rest-”

Her sentence had abruptly ended when the door had finally swung open, and she was met with the barrel of a gun being pointed directly into her face. In mere seconds, Ellie raised both of her arms, her gaze shifting from the weapon to the woman’s steel gaze. She looked to be no younger than Ellie, or possibly slightly older, and she had long, dark hair collected into two braids that complimented her olive skin tone. She was clad in white jeans (that were definitely whiter when we're brand new) and a forest green blouse, a black jacket over her shoulders. Ellie noticed that her eyes had widened considerably, as she was visibly bewildered by Ellie’s appearance. 

“You– You have fifteen seconds. I suggest you leave.” The woman threatened.

“I’m not infected! I know what this looks like, but please-” Ellie started, but the woman only stepped closer to her, the pointed gun in her hands never wavering for a second, to which Ellie subsequently took a small step back. 

“Bullshit.” The woman spat. 

“I swear.” Ellie replied. She could see the woman’s eyes rake across her skin as she observed her closely. She had fallen silent now, and Ellie could tell the woman was mulling over a decision in her mind. While she was taking those few minutes to contemplate, Ellie spoke again.

“Look, I can’t explain– this whole situation,” Ellie said, gesturing to the fungal growth that covered her body. “But I won’t hurt you.” 

The woman still kept her contemplative gaze, but her eye contact with Ellie was broken when she noticed a small movement out of the corner of her eye. When the woman looked down, that’s when she noticed Otis, lying patiently next to Ellie’s shoes, her head resting on the top of her paws. The woman’s hand began to shake as she finally felt her resolve crumble, and with a sigh, she lowered her weapon, stepping aside to make room for Ellie and her furry friend to come in.

“Get inside. Quickly.” She said curtly. Ellie didn’t hesitate, walking into the woman’s residence with hurried steps, Otis following behind her. 

When Ellie had come in, the woman poked her head outside once more, looking left, and then looking right, before shutting it closed and locking it behind her. Ellie briefly watched as Kennedy grabbed a nearby chair and placed it under the doorknob.

Upon being welcomed inside, Ellie took several moments to observe her new surroundings. Ellie could tell she was in the middle of a living room, noticing a couch, recliner, and a glass coffee table among other things. There was a fireplace in said living room, the sound of the fire crackling resonating throughout the small space and basking it in a warm, orange glow. In front of the glowing fire was a small throw pillow and a blanket that had been folded to create a makeshift mattress of sorts, as well as another, slightly smaller blanket folded on top. Ellie removed her jacket, already beginning to feel quite warm, the heat of the fire having effectively filled the entire room. She wasn’t sure how long the woman would let her stay for, but she was going to enjoy every second. After placing her long guns on the table, Ellie made her way toward the fireplace, sitting down in front of it and holding out her hands. Otis had the same idea, taking his spot next to Ellie. 

The woman was still standing by the door, gun in hand, but her finger wasn’t on the trigger. She watched Ellie closely, her eyes raking over all the parts of Ellie’s body where fungal growth could be seen. The woman still chose to keep her distance, as she wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from the mysterious stranger.

Ellie felt a pair of eyes on her back, and she turned around to be met with the woman’s stare. Ellie wasn’t surprised in the slightest that the woman seemed to be put off by her presence. She didn’t question her blatant discomfort and opted for making light conversation instead.

“Thanks. For letting me in.” Ellie started. She wasn’t really expecting a response, so she turned her back toward the woman again, her mind wandering elsewhere as she observed the burning wood. 

“No problem.” The woman replied, much to Ellie’s surprise. Ellie turned back around and saw that the woman’s eyes were no longer cold and sharp but instead much warmer, softer, a glint of curiosity hidden in them. Her voice had also lost its sternness, her words coming out much lighter. She opened her mouth to speak again. 

“I’m Kennedy.” She said. Ellie repeated the name in her head, even though she’d probably be asked to leave after a couple of days and would never see her again. Regardless of how long she would know this woman, she couldn’t think of a reason to not share her name as well.

“Ellie.” She said simply.

Kennedy gave her a small, barely noticeable grin of acknowledgment. After the exchange of names, they were both quiet for a few minutes as the both of them tried to move past the initial stage of meeting someone. Kennedy remained rooted in front of the door, leaning against it and holstering her weapon. Ellie was in the middle of running her fingers through Otis’s fur, watching the tufts of golden blonde poke through the space in between them, when Kennedy decided to break the ice first.

“So… where did you come from?” She asked. Ellie knew that Kennedy probably had more pressing questions at the tip of her tongue, more than likely relating to the fact that she was covered in bites and had mushrooms emerging from her skin, but wasn’t ready to ask. At least, not yet.

“I stayed in an old travel van a few miles from here. It was shitty but better than nothing.” She replied. Kennedy nodded, listening intently.

“I see… so you walked all the way here, I presume?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said. She cleared her throat. “What about you? How’d you even find this place?”

Kennedy chuckled softly. “Before I came here I was with a group of people. We were living out of some grocery store. Got separated…” she trailed off, staring at the hard wood floor beneath her blankly. Ellie sensed that she had begun reliving some kind of unpleasant memory, but before she could say anything about it, Kennedy shook her head, as if trying to dispel the sudden thought. 

“We, um, got separated, and I ran off in a random direction. I guess I just got lucky… coming across this.” She said, gesturing to the cabin itself. 

“Real lucky.” Ellie added. Kennedy nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah…” she said quietly. 

Suddenly, she stopped leaning on the door and walked toward Ellie, grabbing a backpack that had been placed on the recliner on the way, before sitting down next to her on her folded blanket. She still left a considerable amount of space between them.

“How long have you been staying here?” Ellie questioned. 

“Only for a few days. I actually plan on leaving tomorrow morning, though.”

Ellie perked up at that. “Where to?”

“A place called Jackson.”

Ellie fell silent, feeling a familiar tenseness in her shoulders. Her stare was blank as she looked ahead at the flames in front of her. 

“Jackson?”

Kennedy looked at Ellie quizzically. “Yeah. You heard of it? Had a friend tell me that they had food, clean water, shelter, electricity, a decently sized community… seems like a great place to stay. It could be a rumor for all I know, but I had to find out for myself.”

“I know about Jackson,” Ellie replied. Kennedy looked at Ellie in surprise. 

“Are you from there?” She asked excitedly, eyes shimmering with hope.

“I, um… know about people from there.” 

A smile had broken out on Kennedy’s face upon hearing this information. She scooted closer to Ellie, and whether it was a subconscious or conscious action, Ellie wasn’t sure.

“Would you happen to know if it’s nearby? All my friend told me was to keep heading north. At least, that’s what she heard from other people.”

Ellie’s eyebrows had furrowed slightly in confusion. “She didn’t give you any landmarks, at least?”

Kennedy shook her head. “No..” she said.

“So you’ve just been wandering around, hoping and praying to some higher power that you’re going in the right direction?” Ellie couldn’t hide the amusement in her tone nor could she fight the smile that was tugging on the corner of her lips. Kennedy also found herself sporting a mirthful expression in response to Ellie’s blatant teasing.

“Listen, a lead is a lead, okay? Now, do you know if Jackson is close by or not?” Kennedy asked, suppressing giggles that threatened to bubble from her throat. 

“You really are lucky, then. You’re not too far off. But, uh,” Ellie thought about the map that she found earlier. She grabbed her backpack, opening it up and pulling out the folded piece of paper from inside. She handed it to Kennedy.

"This might help you out." Ellie said.

Kennedy could only gawk at the piece of paper, effectively being stunned into silence. She stared at it for a few long seconds as if she thought it was going to vanish from Ellie’s hand. She accepted the map, looking at it in awe. 

“Holy shit. How did you find this?”

“I guess I… got lucky?” Ellie replied, echoing Kennedy’s words from earlier, to which Kennedy let out a genuine, hearty laugh that shook her whole body and even had Otis poking his head up in curiosity, disturbed by all of the sudden ruckus.

Ellie noticed Kennedy’s wide smile, mirroring the expression. Kennedy’s laugh was truly contagious, and the infectiousness of the sound had spread to Ellie, causing a few chuckles to escape her throat.

Eventually, Kennedy had calmed down, feeling a little out of breath from the exertion that comes from having a good laugh. 

“Thank you, Ellie. Really.” Kennedy said. “I’m… glad you found me when you did.” 

Ellie shrugged. She felt that same warmth she felt when she helped the married couple just mere hours ago. “Don’t mention it.”

After tucking away the map in her backpack, Kennedy began rummaging inside for something else. She found what she was searching for eventually, pulling out a tupperware bowl full of clean cuts of meat. Ellie wasn’t even fully aware of how hungry she actually was until seeing it, and Otis was now giving Kennedy all of his attention, automatically equating the bowl in Kennedy’s hand to something to do with food.

“Please excuse my lack of hospitality,” Kennedy said, teasingly. “You must be pretty hungry, huh? Here, you can have this.” She outstretched her arm and offered Ellie the bowl of meat, to which Ellie gladly accepted and tore open the lid in the blink of an eye.

“Thanks,” she said. “A lot.” 

Kennedy chuckled. “It’s not a problem. Oh, and there should be enough in there for the dog, too.” She said.

Before Ellie dove in and had a few strips herself, she took out some pieces of meat to give Otis. Otis ate them happily, tail wagging against the rug. Once Otis was satisfied and taken care of, Ellie ate the remaining pieces, so hungry that she was eating faster than she intended to but she didn’t really care all that much. The meat was bland, like she expected it to be. It wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to at this point. She still devoured the meat anyway, too starved to give a damn.

There was a comfortable silence that had fallen over the both of them as they sat in front of the fire. Ellie didn’t realize it until now, but she missed being in the company of somebody else. She missed having someone to have a conversation with, and for once, it was nice to feel truly safe. In the travel van, she always found herself peering out of its few windows at the slightest noise. There was obviously no one around to speak to; to befriend. 

She thought she had gotten used to being alone. But Kennedy made her realize that she was far from truly accepting her loneliness. Ellie didn’t want the sun to rise, because then that meant Kennedy would leave; and her worst fear would become true once more.

But she knew she couldn’t talk Kennedy out of her trip. She wouldn’t want to, anyway. Ellie knew that Jackson would be a far better place for her than in a small cabin out in the middle of the woods.

“I want to ask you a few things.” Kennedy’s voice pulled Ellie out of her mind. 

“Ask away.” Ellie said. She braced herself.

“So. You’re immune.” Kennedy didn’t phrase it like a question; more like a statement, to which Ellie nodded.

“Yeah.” 

“When… when did you find that out?”

Ellie sighed, taking some minutes to compose herself. “When I was 14.” she replied, silently hoping that Kennedy wouldn’t pry for more information after that.

“Shit. You were so young.” Kennedy said. Ellie nodded.

“Can I… touch it? I won’t hurt you, will I?” Kennedy inquired. It had caught Ellie a little off guard, but she was thankful that Kennedy wasn’t asking for more details about how she got her first bite, so she didn’t mind. She held out her arm, and Kennedy had reached out her hand but she hesitated. She met Ellie’s eyes, once again asking for permission non-verbally, to which Ellie simply nodded.

Kennedy’s fingers slowly touched the fungal growth on Ellie’s arm. She did the same thing Ellie did when she first got it, tugging on them and attempting to twist and bend them. Kennedy’s expression was that of innocent curiosity as she continued to feel Ellie’s arm. She glanced up at Ellie occasionally, checking for any signs of discomfort, but Ellie only sat there patiently.

“They’re so hard,” Kennedy observed. “And it doesn’t hurt?”

Ellie lightly shook her head. “No, I promise. It’s itchy sometimes. That’s about it.”

“I see. Man, it’s crazy to see these things up close. Can’t really get close to a clicker.” Kennedy said. Ellie exhaled sharply through her nose, the sound resembling something of a chuckle. 

“I didn’t think anyone like you even existed. I wonder if there’s more immune people.” 

Ellie quickly shook her head. Kennedy noticed the slight movement out of the corner of her eyes. She was finished analyzing Ellie’s arm, meeting Ellie’s gaze. She was quiet, allowing Ellie to elaborate.

“There is no one else.” Ellie said softly but with finality in her tone, her eyes filled with sincerity. 

“There has to be. I mean, people could be hiding it or something. It’s not like they can just go around telling ever-”

“There is. No one. Else.” Ellie interrupted, her voice coming out more stern then she intended it to. Kennedy was effectively silenced, and Ellie watched the hope dissipate from her eyes as she leaned back, hugging her knees to her chest and staring off into the fire. Ellie mentally cursed herself for being the one to suddenly shift the mood.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” Ellie said. 

After a few beats of silence, Kennedy sighed. "It's okay. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable."

Ellie was quick to distinguish any ounce of self-blame that Kennedy was feeling. "You didn't. I didn't mean for it to come out the way." 

Kennedy gave Ellie a small smile. "It's alright, Ellie. Let's just move on, yeah?" 

Ellie nodded, wordlessly agreeing. She cleared her throat. 

"So, anyway… you wouldn't happen to have anything to wash this down with, would you?" 

Kennedy once again reached into her bag and pulled out a canteen. She shook it, and she frowned when she heard that there was very little water left. 

"This is all I have. But you can have the rest of it." 

Ellie was quick to decline. "No… you'll need that for your trip tomorrow-" 

"Please." Kennedy insisted, a faint grin resting on her lips and a finality in her tone that Ellie just couldn't say no to. She accepted the water, nodding her head as a silent thanks. 

She wasted no time in chugging the remaining water that was inside the canteen, eagerly lapping up every last drop. Otis stared at her curiously, whining to get Ellie's attention; but Ellie had already emptied the canteen. 

Ellie looked down at Otis apologetically, petting the top of her head for compensation. “I’m sorry, buddy.”

Kennedy frowned while observing the interaction, immediately being kicked into action. She grabbed her gun and reached out her hand to take the canteen. “I can get some more water. The nearest lake is a bit of a walk, but-”

“It’s alright,” Ellie started. “I’m sure he can make it through the night.”

“You sure?” Kennedy asked. Ellie nodded.

“Okay.” She replied, sitting back down in front of the fire.

With an audible yawn, Kennedy laid down on her back. Ellie continued sitting upright, staring emptily into the fire.

“Aren’t you tired, Ellie?” Kennedy asked. Ellie just shrugged.

“I’m fine. Just… thought I should keep an eye out.” She replied.

Kennedy chuckled at Ellie’s paranoia. “Hey, we’re safe here, I promise. I’ve been alone here for a while now and you’re the first person to find this place.” 

Ellie would be lying if she said that she wasn’t beginning to feel the exhaustion overtaking her. Aside from the fact that she had quite the tiring day, many of the nights she spent in the travel van were sleepless ones, and all those missed hours of rest were certainly catching up to her. She could feel it in the way her bones ached with every slight movement, and how her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute. Even Otis had fallen asleep before her, lying on his side, his chest rising and falling slowly. The fire wasn’t helping, either, only adding to her fatigue as the fire’s warmth encompassed her body like a thick blanket.

Ellie sighed, ultimately making the choice to listen to the signals her body was giving her. 

Ellie started to lay down, grabbing her backpack to use as a pillow.

“Wait,” Kennedy said. Ellie froze, turning her body around to see what Kennedy was up to.

Kennedy took the blanket she was lying on top of and unfolded it, placing it on the floor in a way that would allow Ellie to lie on top of it as well. 

“There. So you’re not sleeping directly on the floor.” Kennedy said with a smile. Ellie gave her a barely noticeable grin in return as a silent thanks. 

When Ellie had laid down comfortably, Kennedy grabbed a second blanket of hers and covered the both of them with the soft fabric. There was just enough of it so that the both of them could fit under it comfortably. Kennedy was lying on her back, her hands behind her head, whilst Ellie was lying in the fetal position, facing away from her. There was a comfortable silence that fell between the two of them. Ellie’s eyes had fallen closed, and she felt the looming presence of sleep creeping up to her–

“Ellie.” Kennedy whispered. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.” Ellie replied. 

“I just… have more questions I wanna ask you.” Kennedy said. Ellie could have simply told her to ask them tomorrow, but she hadn’t had any kind of company in what felt like an eternity, and she knew that Kennedy would be leaving as soon as the sun rose, so she gave Kennedy her full attention.

Ellie turned her body around, still remaining in a position akin to the fetal position but facing Kennedy. Kennedy adjusted her position as well, now facing Ellie. There was still a decent amount of distance between the two of them, but they were much closer together now. For anybody else, the close proximity would have probably caused some level of discomfort, but Ellie didn’t find herself shying away.

“Shoot.” Ellie said.

Kennedy cleared her throat. “Um, so… can I ask what happened to your hand? I noticed it when you first came in, but I didn’t wanna bring it up at the time…”

Ellie was silent.

“You don’t… have to answer. Or tell me the full story. I’d hate to make you uncomfortable… again-”

“I got in a fight, and the person I was fighting… bit them off.”

Ellie could see Kennedy’s eyes widen and her eyebrows raise even in the darkness of the room. “Holy shit. They… bit them off?” Kennedy repeated, disbelief evident in her tone. Ellie nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah,” She said quietly. 

“Well, I hope you won that fight. Did you?” Kennedy asked. 

“Sure did.” Ellie lied. Kennedy didn’t suspect otherwise, chuckling at Ellie’s answer. 

“Hell yeah.” Kennedy responded, a light grin resting on her face. Shortly after, though, the grin quickly faded.

“Oh and… sorry about that.” Kennedy added. 

Ellie shrugged. “I’ve… gotten used to it.” She replied.

“Having only eight fingers… what does it change for you?”

Ellie was quiet for a moment as she thought about her answer. “Well, uh… holding guns felt a little weird, but I figured that out pretty quickly. I’m not left-handed, which is a good thing I guess, but… I think the thing I’m upset about the most is that I can’t play guitar.”

Kennedy let out a barely audible gasp, but Ellie picked up on it. “You play guitar? Or, um… played?”

Ellie nodded. “Yeah. Did… did you?” She asked.

A wide smile broke out on Kennedy’s face, stretching from ear to ear. “Yeah, actually. I played guitar for years. Even had one of my own, back when I was with my group. But when we got attacked, I had to… leave it behind.” Kennedy’s voice began to shake. “I miss playing so much. It really just… took my mind off of everything, y’know? Felt like I was back with my friends and family… sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Almost subconsciously, Ellie reached out her hand, gently placing it on Kennedy’s arm.

“Losing the one connection to your past… I get it. And I’m sorry.” Ellie said softly. 

Kennedy didn’t say anything in response, the sound of her occasional sniffles filling the silence of the room. 

“Y,know,” Ellie began. “When you get to Jackson, you might be able to find a new one.”

“A new guitar?” Kennedy asked. Ellie nodded. 

“Yeah. The people there trade stuff all the time, you might get lucky.”

“Maybe…” Kennedy trailed off. 

When silence befell the two of them again, Ellie took that time to roll over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Subconsciously, she scratched the area of her arm where the fungal growth was located. 

“When you get to Jackson, what are you gonna do?” Ellie inquired, curiosity lacing her tone. 

“Let’s see,” Kennedy said, releasing a sigh as she contemplated her answer for a moment. “Honestly? I just want to be able to settle down and start over. I wanna create a new life for myself. Meet new people.” She explained. 

“I’m sure you’ll be able to do that.” Ellie replied.

Slowly, Kennedy’s wistful expression morphed into one of confusion. “Why don’t you… come with me?” She asked.

Ellie stiffened, sitting up and resting her forearms on her knees. Almost immediately, Kennedy sat up as well, maintaining eye contact with her despite the fact that Ellie was now zeroing in on the fire in front of her. 

Ellie found herself picking at the fungal plates on her arm. 

“I can’t.” Ellie said, after a few moments of heavy silence.

Kennedy’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why can’t you? I mean, do you really wanna stay out here?”

Ellie shrugged. “No one in Jackson would want me around when I look like this.”

Kennedy’s eyes briefly went up and down the length of Ellie’s body like it was her first time seeing the fungal growth on her skin. “Give them enough time, and I’m sure they’ll get accustomed to it. I mean, I did.”

The chuckle that was emitted from Ellie’s throat was a humorless one. “Some people might get used to it. Other people won’t. They’d only feel unsafe around me… and I don’t want that.”

“But you’re not a threat–”

“I’m not going back, Kennedy. There’s no place for me there anymore.”

Kennedy scooted closer to Ellie. “Anymore?” She asked, subtly urging Ellie to elaborate.

“I… used to live in Jackson. For quite a while, actually.”

“Why did you–”

“I don’t wanna get into why I left. I just want you to understand. I can’t go back. I don’t even want to go back. Not right now, anyway.” Ellie said with finality in her tone.

Kennedy nodded, a deep frown etched into her features. She began fiddling with a loose string on the blanket.

“I’m sure the people there miss you.” Kennedy said. 

“For all I know, they probably think I’m dead. Or at the very least, they’re not concerned with me anymore.”

“But you’re not dead. And there is still time for you to–”

“You can’t convince me, Kennedy. I’m sorry.”

“Right. I understand.” She said quietly.

With a sigh, Ellie began putting out the fire. “We should sleep.” She said, abruptly ending their conversation there. 

It took a few minutes to put the fire out, as Ellie carefully observed the flames and waited until they had completely dissipated. When no embers remained, it left the room mostly pitch black, with the exception of a few rays of moonlight filtering in through the curtains. 

Ellie and Kennedy both laid back down atop the blanket, turning away from each other. 

For the first time in a long time, Ellie slept peacefully throughout the night.

The next morning, Ellie woke up to the sound of a door closing gently. 

Kennedy had come from outside, with Otis coming in shortly after. She held two deceased rabbits in her hand. 

"Morning." Ellie said. Kennedy threw a smile in her direction, placing the rabbits in front of the fire. Ellie quickly noticed her rifle that was slung over Kennedy’s shoulders.

"Morning. I went ahead and took Otis out to use the bathroom and to get some air – and sorry I, uh… stole your rifle, but hopefully this can suffice for breakfast. Do you… know how to skin a-"

"I got it. Thanks." Ellie replied. 

“Awesome,” Kennedy said. “Just so you know… there’s a freshwater lake right behind the cabin. It’s roughly a 20 minute walk. I recommend boiling it before you use it for anything. Obviously there’s plenty of wood around for the fireplace.”

“Okay.” Ellie replied simply. She noticed that Kennedy was about to put the rifle back down where she found it, and quickly halted her movements, to which Kennedy glanced at her in slight confusion.

“Keep it.” Ellie said. Kennedy seemed taken aback.

“I can’t just-”

“Is your pistol the only gun you have?”

Kennedy paused, but then nodded. “Well… yeah, but-”

“Then please, keep it. You never know when you’ll need a backup. I’ll be fine without it.” Ellie said. She then grabbed her backpack, rummaging inside for a few minutes before pulling out a couple of packs of ammunition and handing it to her.

“Here.” Ellie said. Kennedy humbly accepted the ammunition and the weapon, giving Ellie an expression that could only be read as grateful, before going to retrieve her bag off of the recliner. She pulled out the map that she had hastily thrown inside before slinging the straps over her shoulders. She picked up her gun from the table and holstered it, and threw the strap of the rifle over her shoulder, making her way to the door. But she didn't leave immediately, instead pausing in front of it and turning around to face Ellie. This time, the expression on her face was one Ellie couldn’t quite read. Kennedy stared at the ground for a few moments, almost as if she was contemplating if she really wanted to leave. 

"I guess this is where we part ways." Kennedy spoke solemnly. Ellie gave a small nod, remaining silent. 

A sigh blew past Kennedy's lips. "I take it you still haven't changed your mind?" 

"No. I haven't." Ellie replied. 

"I figured, but I just wanted to make sure." Kennedy said, chuckling humorlessly. "Well, Ellie, before I go… I think it'd only be right to thank you." 

"For what?" 

"Well, for starters, giving me a map so that I know where the hell I'm going,” She replied with a grin. “And… for last night. It's been a long time since I had a conversation with someone. It felt nice." 

Ellie nodded in silent agreement. "Yeah. It did.”

Kennedy’s grin stretched into a smile. "You stay safe out here, okay?" 

“I’ll try.” Ellie responded, a smile of her own creeping onto her features. 

Kennedy shared one more meaningful glance with Ellie before turning around and slowly turning the doorknob. Otis had rested his head on Ellie’s knee, eyes fixated on Kennedy as he watched her leave. As Ellie ran her fingers through his fur, a sudden but sorrowful realization had dawned on her.

“Wait.” Ellie said, and Kennedy was only halfway out of the door when she had stopped in her tracks. 

“Do you think you could take him with you?” Ellie asked, gesturing toward Otis. “There’s no way I’d be able to provide for him out here. Jackson will have everything he needs. Pets were never really my thing, anyway.”

A grin reappeared on Kennedy’s face as she nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’ll take him off your hands.”

“Thank you.” Ellie replied. Kennedy made a short, clicking noise with her mouth, getting Otis’s attention. She gestured for him to come toward her, and like the obedient dog he was, he did just that, trotting over to her while wagging his bushy tail. At that moment, as Otis sat next to her feet, Kennedy seemed to have suddenly remembered something.

“You know, I can’t believe I never asked what his name was.” She said, chuckling incredulously. 

Ellie couldn’t suppress her own chuckles as she thought back to the moment she first found out the dog’s name just last night. “You’ll laugh when you find out what it is.” She said.

“Surely it’s not that bad,” Kennedy replied as she kneeled down to read the dog’s collar. When she had read the name, sharp laughter escaped her throat, just like Ellie had predicted. Ellie found herself laughing with her, while Otis just sat there, completely unaware that the two humans were poking fun at his name.

“Otis?” Kennedy spoke after her laughter had died down. “Man, I can’t say I’ve ever heard that one.”

“Me neither.” Ellie said, a light smile on her face. 

“But,” Kennedy spoke, running her fingers through the dog’s fur affectionately. “I gotta say, it suits him.” 

Ellie gave a small nod. “It really does.” 

When silence dawned on them again, the air around them felt different. Ellie knew that Kennedy couldn’t stick around for much longer. There was a pit that was settling in the bottom of Ellie’s stomach at the realization that she would be alone again. 

“Can I… walk you out?” Ellie asked. Kennedy nodded fervently.

The two of them, plus Otis, walked back outside. Ellie decided to lean against one of the wooden beams on the porch as she watched Otis and Kennedy descend the small flight of stairs and head toward the road. Kennedy stopped after a few steps, though, turning around to face Ellie one last time.

“Do you think that we’ll… cross paths again someday?” Kennedy questioned. 

“Maybe.” Ellie said.

“That’s better than a no, so I’ll take it.” Kennedy replied, grinning playfully.

Suddenly, their departure didn’t feel sorrowful anymore – instead, it felt hopeful. Ellie believed that this would be a new beginning for the both of them.

“See you, Ellie.” Kennedy said.

“Goodbye, Kennedy.” 

With one final wave, Kennedy clicked her tongue again to alert Otis to follow her, and the two of them began their long journey to Jackson.

“You’ll make it to Jackson in one piece, right?” Ellie called out. Kennedy whipped her head around to briefly glance at Ellie. 

“You can count on it.” She replied, giving Ellie a salute. 

Then, her eyes were back on the path ahead of her. 

Ellie watched as Kennedy and Otis got farther and farther away until she could no longer see them. When they had completely disappeared into the dense foliage, Ellie’s gaze wandered elsewhere. In the few minutes that she took to properly observe the life around her, she was struck with something.

In a world where the overall human population was left decimated, and small towns and large cities completely ruined, there was still so much beauty in the wilderness, and Ellie couldn’t deny that. There was something so profound about the fact that while everything else succumbed to the fate of a lethal fungal infection, mother nature endured. Inside of that old travel van, Ellie never noticed just how vibrant the trees were, and how tall they stood. There were squirrels and rabbits and birds going about their day without a worry in the world.

She may have lost everything. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t start anew. 

There were changes that her body was undergoing, ones that she didn’t fully understand. But Ellie knew that just like every other living thing in the world, she would adapt.

She heard a voice in the far back of her mind:

You keep finding something to fight for.

And fight, she would.

[misunhye]

End of Beginning

characters kang sunhye (misun), mark lee, manager seolhee, mentions of jaemin/other staff

words 5.1k

warnings sexualization of a minor (by the public), mentions of hate & death threats

2017

“I’m so tired, Mark,” the words are practically being slurred out of Misun’s mouth that he can hardly understand her. Her room is dark, not even her night light is on because she whined that it was hurting her eyes. Mark even unplugged her alarm clock so it wouldn’t light up with the numbers. She’s laying on her side in her bed, facing the wall. Mark is on his back next to her, laying on top of the black duvet that she is hidden under. She didn’t ask him to come in here, he just did without a word.

It seemed to be a reoccurring thing— Mark would notice that something was off and would come sit with her when she was finally alone. It didn’t matter if she holed herself up in a practice room or locked herself in her room. She didn’t know how he could tell, and she didn’t know if she wanted to know, either.

“I know,” he says quietly, staring up at nothing in particular. His hands are behind his head, foot repeatedly moving side to side. He has been moving non stop for two days straight, having schedules for both NCT Dream and NCT 127. She didn’t know how he was still functioning and not falling asleep on himself. Thirteen-year-old Misun would be silently gushing over how mentally strong he is, and well, sixteen-year-old Misun wasn’t too shy to sing Mark praises now.

“We should petition for a day off,” she continues to mutter into her pillow, the only other noise being her box fan on the other side of the room. “I vote for just sleeping.”

“That’d be nice,” he responds, but Misun doesn’t like the way he sounds. It’s choked out, like he’s about to cry, but Misun doesn’t know what to do when people cry. She blames it on her mother never comforting her when she cried, so she never learned what to say. Her heart clenches in her chest, though, aching at the thought of Mark being upset. She doesn’t look over her shoulder, but she freezes. Her hand curls into a fist of her blanket, pulling it further over her shoulder. Should she comfort him? Grab his hand?

“Mark,” she says again, and he hums in response. She hesitates for a long minute, picking up the courage to ask before asking, “Do you ever wish you weren’t an idol?”

The room shifts with the question, and she suddenly regrets asking the question. It’s too much, too deep— what if he thought wrongly about her? That she was regretting debuting? She liked her members, they’ve been her friends for years and she couldn’t imagine not being by their side and them at hers— but she hated the way people treated her. She’s about to take it back, maybe tell him to forget it, when he finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Sometimes I do.” Her mouth dries, the answer surprising her. “I used to feel guilty about it,” he continues, voice low. “Like . . . how could I complain? This is what I worked hard for— all those sleepless nights before monthly evaluations. I made it. It’s what people dream about. But some nights, I close my eyes and wonder what it’d feel like to disappear.”

Misun flips over, meeting Mark’s eyes in the darkness. Her heart pounds in her chest, mind running with all sorts of thoughts, “Disappear?” she echoes quietly.

He can see the slight sheen over her eyes, even in the darkness. “Not permanently,” he says quickly. “Just . . . . go somewhere where it’s not possible for anyone to recognize me. Still be Mark, just not NCT’s Mark Lee, you know?”

A sick sense of relief fills her body. She doesn’t wish this feeling on Mark, Mark of everyone, because he doesn’t deserve it. She wanted an answer, to know if she made the right choice— to know if she wasn’t alone in this. She was beginning to dislike being in the eye of the public, beginning to dislike the-so-called fans that called her every name under the sun. She hated the obsessive fans who followed her around— whether they claimed to support her or not. She hated having to get up early, even if she couldn’t work past ten at night because of the law. If Mark, of all people, believed the same as her… Mark, who always wanted to be an idol, who does the most out of all of them only a year in his debut. He was overworked, overwhelmed all the time, but he never showed it— never got angry at the members for things out of their control, never became so depressed all he did was sink into the couch and never move. He wasn’t like her mother, who disappointed Misun more times than she could count. He was always there, and never failed to support her. He had every right to be tired.

Misun realizes she hasn’t responded yet and quietly says, “Yeah. I know.”

He shifts, turning his head toward her, even though there’s only a few inches between them, “Do . . . do you feel like that?”

Misun’s breath hitches, caught slightly off guard, eyes darting away from him. Mark had given her the truth, so why shouldn’t she? She was just afraid his reaction would still be bad. “Yeah,” she admits in a whisper, like someone is listening outside the door, “I’m tired. I just . . . I love being with you guys and performing, but everyone else’s reactions to me . . .” Her bottom lip trembles, no matter how much she tries to hide it. “I hate that it’s this way. I hate that I’m bringing negative attention to us. I wish people liked me.”

Mark’s expression softens, his eyes never leaving her face even as hers turn away to hide from him. The way her voice trembles—how raw and small she sounds—it twists something in his chest.

He doesn’t want to leave her in silence for too long, so he quickly replies, “I do.”

Misun blinks, confused, “You do what?”

“I like you,” he clarifies, voice steady but sending Misun’s pulse skyrocketing, “There’s so many people who like you, Sunny. The people that actually know you like you yet the ones that don’t are the ones who don’t. I think that says something more about them than it does you.”

Misun blinks again, “Oh. Thanks.”

Mark can’t help but crack a smile, “You’re welcome.” His smile then slightly fades, “You know . . . Sunny, I really wish I could help with the hate. I—After knowing you so many years, I’ve grown protective over you, like you’re the sister I’ve never had. I wish I could protect you.”

She’s no longer looking at him, blinking rapidly at the ceiling. Is this what their conversation has come to? Ruining her childhood dreams? Not like she didn’t already know that, but still. With her brows furrowed, she contemplates what to say next, “You do protect me, though.” She glances at him for a split second, noting how his brows raise in confusion, “Do you think I don’t see how you always put me in the middle of the group when we’re out in public? So no one can touch me or push me like they did?”

“I didn’t know you noticed that,” Mark whispers, brows furrowing as he thinks back. “I tried to be subtle about it . . . I know you don’t like us worrying about you, especially ‘making a big deal’ about it, like I knew you’d say. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

“Some things are necessary,” she shrugs, not denying any of his words. She wasn’t used to people paying enough attention to her to worry about her, and to the rest of her members, and even the older members in 127, her being the only girl and one of the youngest was enough to worry them. If all of them were in the same room, there were always at least three pairs of eyes on her at all times. It was annoying at first, but as time went on and more things happened, she understood why they did it. It made her feel as safe as she could, knowing that there were also bodyguards, but she also knew that they couldn’t be around all the time.

“I hate that they are,” Mark says, and she turns her head to look over at him. She swears the distance between them has somehow shrunk. Did she move or did he? Their faces were close—close enough she could even see the moles on his eyelid and bottom lip, count his eyelashes if she dared to. She doesn’t. He continues, blissfully unaware of her internal conflict, “I know you think you have to be quiet whenever we’re in public or doing variety shows, but you don’t have to tone yourself down for anyone. Don’t let anyone try to tell you that, even the company.”

Misun frowns, “But the company said my role is to—”

“You’re not happy pretending to be someone you’re not,” he says, effectively silencing her. “You’re more than enough as you are. I like who you are.”

Her lips part slightly, but no words come. They’re staring at each other, still not moving, before she swallows, “I wish I knew who I was. I’ve spent so long. . . trying to be what everyone wanted me to be all at once. My mother . . .” She hesitates, before continuing, “Her. SM, the perfect princess. I don’t feel like I have control of my life anymore.” Her brows furrow, “I don’t think I ever did.”

Mark doesn’t speak right away, he just watches her. The softness in his eyes makes her chest tighten. She’s said too much. She shouldn’t have brought up her mother. She shouldn’t have opened that door when there’s so many things she’s failed to explain in the past. Failed to explain why her mother was never around and when she promised to, she still bailed. Failed to explain why she never talked about her. It’s been nearly four years since most of them have met her, and they still don’t really know anything. She can’t blame them if they’re angry— she’s supposed to trust them, and she does, but how do you explain that your mother— who was once an idol— is an addict that only manipulates and lies? That she’s the one person Misun is supposed to trust the most in the world, but she can’t.

“I know the real you,” he whispers. “I know the little girl—“ she rolls her eyes at that, and he smiles slightly, “—I met that picked on me so much I thought she hated me. I know the girl that caught me up on everything I missed when I wasn’t in Korea, who helped me with the choreos even when it was getting past midnight. I know the girl that feels everything too much, that even when she claimed to hate someone, she comforted him after she was the one who almost died.”

“I didn’t almost die,” she sighs, cutting him off, “I just had a panic attack.”

“I’m not finished,” Mark raises his brows. “I know the girl that remembers everyone’s favorites when she doesn’t even remember to feed herself sometimes. I know the girl that makes sure Chenle and Jisung are safe, because she feels like they’re her responsibility. I know the girl that barely let anyone shake her hand let alone hand her anything the first couple of months of training, but now leans into any touch.”

Misun’s frozen, not looking at him anymore. Her grip on the blanket is tight, and he can see the way her chest rises unevenly, like she’s holding back tears.

“You’re not your mom,” he says, and it’s soft and reassuring, “You’re not what SM wants you to be. And that’s OK. You’re you. The only reason we can keep it together on bad days.”

She laughs weakly, “That’s a little dramatic.”

“I’m not joking,” he replies seriously. “You think we don’t see how you check in on everyone before you let yourself fall apart? Alone, where no one can see you?”

“I’m not trying to be dramatic,” she says quickly, heart pounding at the sudden new information. She didn’t know he knew, there was a reason she was trying to hide it all from them.

“You’re not,” he shakes his head slowly. He doesn’t say anything for a moment before saying, “I don’t want you to deal with this alone anymore.”

She stares at him, speechless as her eyes sting. She clears her throat, throat still feeling like it’s tightening, but she still doesn’t know how to respond. How do you respond to something like that?

When Mark sees that she’s not going to respond, he continues, “You think you have to handle everything by yourself. Like, like if you let someone in and they help you, it means you’re failing. But you’re not. You’re not failing, Sunhye. Needing help doesn’t make you any less of an idol than the rest of us.” He pauses, making sure she’s looking him in the eyes now, “I need help sometimes, too, you know?”

She frowns, not liking the idea of him feeling helpless, “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” When he shakes his head, her frown deepens. “What? When?” She eyes him, “You never come to me.”

He smiles slightly, but there’s nothing really amusing about the conversation, “Neither do you.” When she doesn’t say anything, he continues, “I don’t come to you because I don’t want to burden you—” her mouth drops open in shock, quickly going to tell him that he’s not a burden, but he stops her, “Hold on, I’m not done. You already have enough on your plate, I can see that. I didn’t want to make it worse by having you worry about me, too.”

Misun stares at him incredulously, before huffing, “You’re not a burden, Mark. Gosh, I can’t believe you’d really say that,” she scoffs at him, shaking her head. “Where’d you get that dumb idea in your head?”

Mark tilts his head, “Probably from spending too much time with you. My thoughts started to reflect yours.”

Misun sighs, glancing away from him, “Maybe we are more alike than we think.”

He smiles softly, nodding slowly, “Yeah.” He continues staring at her, making her side-eye him, wanting him to stop, but he doesn’t.

“Stop,” she mutters, “I don’t like that.”

“Like what?”

She doesn’t exactly want to tell him it aloud, so she deflects, “You know. Do as I say, not as I do,” she stares at him blankly, “I’m clearly not a good example to follow.”

“Then how about we make a promise?” He suggests, and when she gestures for him to go on, he does. “I won’t hide anything from you, and you won’t hide anything from me. We go to each other when we need help. We’re a team, we lean on each other.”

Her heart feels warm at his words, biting down on her bottom lip. She’s glad it’s dark in her room. It’s not lost on her that this entire time, they’ve still been mostly talking about her and he hasn’t said anything about himself, but she drops it. For now. She nods once, tension leaving her shoulders with an exhale, “OK.”

Mark holds out his pinky and she rolls her eyes, but is smiling as she links hers around his. He glances over at her, “You don’t have to pretend with me, OK?” It’s so simple, not even a big confession or anything, but it means a lot more to her than he realizes.

She stares at him with parted lips, before nodding again, whispering again, “OK.”

They both settle into a quiet stillness again. And this time, when Misun closes her eyes, it’s not out of exhaustion, but relief.

With the end of We Young promotions, Misun was back to being left to her own devices. Jaemin was staying at his mom’s apartment for a couple of weeks, and would be back a couple days after their schedules ended. Mark and Haechan were attending a NCT 127 schedule while the others were either asleep in their beds or holed up in their rooms. Misun wished that was what she was doing right now.

When she woke up this morning, she had a text message from her manager, Seolhee. It was to inform her that the management team wanted to talk to her as soon as possible. Her heart sank to her stomach the moment she finished reading, inhaling shakily. She could only imagine what they wanted to say to her.

Maybe it was the usual— “You have to keep up with the boys, Misun, or else this won’t work.” or “You have to prove your way, just like everyone else.” or “Not everyone will like you, so you have to learn to deal with it.” when she had the audacity to complain about the hate she was getting online and how the company wouldn’t do anything about it. But the words being said about her wasn’t just dislike— it was full on hatred.

She could take criticism— she’d been taking it her entire life from her own mother, she could handle it from faceless nobodies on the Internet. What she couldn’t take was the insults of her appearance, calling her all sorts of degrading names, making up rumors about how she got into the group, and whatever else they're saying about her that she hasn’t seen yet.

When she first debuted, she couldn’t go a night without crying herself to sleep. It got to the point where the members had to take her phone away themselves, because any chance she got, she was searching her name up. Now, it was a little better, she had learned to try her best to ignore it, but sometimes it was hard when they were also saying it right to her face, too.

When they did that, mostly it was older women and even a few men, it made her so angry she wanted to snap back, but she thought it would make it worse. It’d just paint her in an even worse light, and bring more negative attention to the group. She’d make it worse than it already was, and then they’d really have to kick her out.

Misun’s sitting stiffly on the edge of the black leather couch, twiddling with her fingers to ignore the urge to bite at them from nervousness. In front of her was Seolhee, Yewon, Wonseo, and a couple of others from Center Four publicity team that she remembers from media training classes. It made her feel on edge. The moment she stepped in the room, she knew what was going to happen.

“. . . So we’re thinking it might be best for you to go on a short break,” Seolhee says, not looking her in the eyes, even as Misun’s eyes burn through her. “Just a hiatus for the time being. It’s nothing permanent, NCT Dream probably won’t even have a comeback yet by the time you’re back. It’s just . . . with everything going on—social media, the comments, and just— everything, we want to give you some space. Time to breathe, focus on your health.”

“I don’t need space,” she speaks up, but her voice is very faint and flat. “I’m fine.”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Wonseo says firmly, arms crossed with his eyes calmly trained on her. “It’s just for a little while until it all dies down. We’ll put out a statement that it’s for personal reasons.”

Misun doesn’t like the look in his eyes when she finally looks away from Seolhee. They were daring her to snap back, to give him any further reason to pull her out of the group even more. Wonseo has made it clear from the very start that he wasn’t fond of the idea of her being in the group.

She glances around the room. Seolhee is still avoiding her eyes, and Yewon hasn’t once looked her way since she entered the room. Everyone else looked like robots, like this was just the one thing they needed to get done before going out for lunch— like they hadn’t just shattered her world. No one was on her side here. She could be in a room full of people, and still feel so alone.

Her eyes are glassy as she slowly nods, looking at nothing in particular. “Did— did someone say something?” She asks before she can stop herself, voice barely above a whisper now. She’s afraid if she was any louder, her voice would break.

There is a pause, and no one speaks for a second. It’s only a second or two, but it’s enough of a pause to plant the seed of doubt.

“No,” Seolhee said gently, and Misun hates the way she sounds. Like she actually cares about her. She squeezes her eyes shut, one lone tear escaping as she does. “We’re just concerned about you, Misun. This is for the best, OK?”

She wants to scream. She wants to cry. Is it the best for her or for them?

She doesn’t do any of that. She just nods silently and quickly wipes the tear away. “Is that it?”

She doesn’t see it, but Seolhee exchanges a nervous look with Yewon, before she says, “Yeah. I’ll drive you home, OK?”

Misun doesn’t say another word as she stands, bows faintly toward the general direction of the table, then walks out the door without looking back. She doesn’t stop walking until she reaches the restroom. The moment the door clicks shut behind her, she locks it, presses her back to the cold tile wall, and finally lets herself exhale a shaky and shallow breath.

Her ears and cheeks are hot, throat tightening and nose burning with the sudden onset of tears. Her hands come up to her head, pressing on her eyes harshly, “Stop crying,” she mutters through her tears, a sob ripping out of her chest.

She wasn’t stupid. They said it was for her, but it really wasn’t. It was the easy way out and the best choice for them. Instead of defending her in a statement, they just let it happen— let grown journalists write badly about a child. She hated thinking of herself as a child, but that’s simply what she was. How could anyone think of the vile things they thought and said about a child?

This couldn’t get any worse.

Misun was wrong. It definitely could.

“You’re a liar!” She seethes through angry and sad tears, vision blurry as she stomps throughout the dorm, back and forth from the living room where Seolhee was to her room. She doesn’t know where the members went, they were home before she left. There wasn’t a note or anything like there usually would be— did they already know? And they just wanted to miss her breakdown when she finally came home— only to get kicked out of her own fucking home? Or did one of the managers, probably Wonseo, bribe them out of the dorm with ice cream?

She keeps glancing at her phone every few minutes after packing some clothes in her suitcase. When she storms back to the living room, “I asked you ‘Is that it?’ and you told me yes! You didn’t tell me you were kicking me out the dorm, too!” She hates the loud, ugly sob that rips through her chest but she’s technically alone so she doesn’t care all that much.

“It was for the best—”

“Oh, God! Give me a break!” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. She wipes more tears from her face but they keep falling, “There goes that again. For the best? Really?! That’s all you have to say to me?” She’s taken a demanding tone now, and she usually never would with authority figures but Seolhee was barely reacting.

“Unless you’d rather have reacted like this in front of the others,” she gestures to Misun, crossing her arms as she sits at the edge of the couch. “This isn’t permanent, Sunhye. It’s just temporary until everything is under control. People are making threats to you! Does that not scare you?”

“Then protect me!” Misun shouts incredulously, eyes wide as she stares at her. “Hire more bodyguards! Do your damn job! Move us to another dorm. That should’ve happened a long time ago when the first person found out where we lived!”

“I don’t have all the power in the world,” Seolhee sighs loudly, rubbing her temples. “What do you not understand about this is temporary?” Misun hates that word. Temporary. It feels like the word is actually taunting her. “Why are you being so childish about this now?”

“You’re making me leave my home,” Misun gasps out, shocked to hear her say that. Seolhee has always been the one closest to Misun, even being as far as being titled just Misun’s manager. “Have you had any consideration about where I’m supposed to go? I’ve lived in the dorms since I became a trainee.”

Seolhee rolls her eyes, shockening Misun even more, “What are you talking about? You have multiple choices: your mother—“ Misun blanches at that. Was this bitch crazy? “—your father, your brothers!”

Yeah, this bitch was crazy, she quickly decides.

“I’m not living with my mother,” she says firmly, “I’m pretty sure my dad is living with his current girlfriend of the month, so no thank you. And—” she laughs incredulously, “Jiho hates me! Jaesuk has more important things than me. You can’t just dump me on them.”

“It’s not dumping you on them, they’re your family,” Seolhee shakes her head. “You have the option of your grandparents, too.”

Misun’s jaw drops now, “They’re all the way in Texas! You’re really trying to get rid of me.”

“I thought they were moving back to Korea?” Seolhee ignores her words. “To be closer to you since you debuted?”

No. They specifically said it was for political reasons— not exactly in those words, but much more vulgar.

“I doubt they want to take care of a teenager,” Misun exclaims, sighing and storming back off to her room.

Seolhee follows this time, still talking, “They’re your family, and I’m sure they’ll be glad to be with you again.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Misun shakes her head swiftly, going into her room straight to her bed. Her suitcase lays open on the bed, with some clothes packed into it. Some toiletries have been taken from her restroom and put in a medium-sized backpack.

Looking at her bed makes her think of a couple of days ago when Mark was lying next to her, and they both promised to let each other in. She didn’t have to carry this by herself. She glances down at her phone, looking for any texts from her members. None. She ignores Seolhee talking behind her and thinks about texting Mark, letting him know what was going on. But… what if he already knew? Maybe they told him first since he was the leader.

Or maybe he already knew because he was the one that brought it up to them in the first place. Her chest aches at the thought. She had told him in full confidence that he wouldn’t tell anyone— she didn’t even bother to ask and make sure because she was so sure that it was wordlessly stated.

“It’s only temporary—”

All Misun’s been hearing is temporary, temporary. Temporary hiatus, temporary unit. Everything she knows is temporary. Why was that word cursing her?

“Stop saying that!” She shouts, turning around suddenly and making Seolhee stop pacing in surprise. “Temp-temporary! If it’s temporary, then why are you making me move out? Jaemin got the choice to stay! This feels like it’s permanent!”

“It’s to give you space,” Seolhee stresses, eyes wide at all the shouting from the usually meek and quiet girl. She didn’t meet Misun until they were preparing for debut, she didn’t know the trainee before the idol. “To give everyone space, Sunhye! Stop shouting and let’s talk about this, maturely.”

But she didn’t care, she figured if they were already trying to push her out, she had the right to say what she had to say. She wasn’t afraid of them. Not like she was afraid of having to go back to living with her mother.

She scoffs, “To give everyone space? What the hell do they need space for?! I’m the one getting death threats. I’m the one being accused of sleeping my way into the group!” The words taste bitter in her mouth, having to force the words out.

It’s the first time she’s mentioned it out loud. The accusation was the worst thing Misun has ever heard about herself— it was humiliating and cruel. She remembers being inconsolable when she saw the first article about it. It was enough that people were talking about it online, but the fact that there were articles being written about it? Making the rumors more public— putting her more in the spotlight for the public’s scrutiny.

There’s a stunned look on Seolhee’s face, jaw slack, eyes blinking like she’s trying to process what she just heard.

“Did you think I didn’t know?” Her voice breaks, and she can feel the tears starting all over again. She hates crying. She really fucking hates crying. “There were articles about it. I’m sure even the members know about it. There’s no way you didn’t.”

Seolhee doesn’t speak for a long moment, but when she does, Misun’s crying softly with her chest heaving and breath caught in her throat. Why does she never win? “Those are just rumors,” Seolhee is speaking slowly and carefully, like she’s reciting something from memory. “Cruel, baseless rumors that no one here believes, Misun.”

“Then why does it feel like they do?” Misun cuts her off, voice sharp and raw with pain. “If no one believes them, why am I the one being punished?”

Seolhee stays silent.

Misun scoffs through her tears, sniffling harshly as she turns her back to her. She can’t even look at her anymore. “Don’t bother answering. I already know— It’s easier to blame the girl, right? You’re just going to prove them all right that I wasn’t ready to debut, that I couldn’t keep up with a group of boys.” She shakes her head to herself, vision blurry even as she adds more of her clothes in her suitcase.

Her head bows slightly, squeezing her eyes shut as she wills the tears to slow down. After a moment, she sniffles again and speaks, but doesn’t turn to look at Seolhee, “Can you leave me alone? I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Seolhee doesn’t answer, only shutting the door behind her. Once she’s gone, Misun slumps on her bed and brings a pillow to her face before screaming into it.

Just the very thing she feared— she was turning out like her mother.

[dr-achillean-tourney]

SHSL Achilleans 1-2-3

Propaganda below:

Ace Markey:

I could just leave it at 'word of God confirms he's gay' but I also gotta just mention that whether it's him having this whole toxic-homoerotic rivalry with one character (one whom he shares so many parallels/themes/similarities with that I actually have a full post trying to document as many as I can find, and will probably put in a reblog once the poll actually drops), or having one-sided feelings for another (platonic, romantic, it doesn't matter, it's all doomed because the other guy doesn't feel love or care for other people) to the point of doing what he did in chapter 2 for the guy (spoilers), he just OOZES Dramatic Gay Asshole energy in every single scene he's in.

He's also my number one blorbo right now and I cry about him nearly every day because he's so goddamn tragic and annoying and he needs some kind of win after constantly taking Ls.

(Sidenote; but the ONLY reason I'm not submitting either of those mentioned dynamics as ships is because one involves a nonbinary character who doesn't identify as male so it wouldn't feel right to add them in a strictly mlm tournament, and I just don't ship the other personally due to how one-sided it is. Cool if that's your vibe, just not mine!

But also his interactions with both characters is still incredibly gay/queer to me and HE is incredibly gay in general so please vote for this stupid dramatic gay jockey who's infected my brain so much I added him to my list of names 🧡🧡🧡).

Mondo Owada:

none

[poliwhirl-sys]

(multiple authors)

💧OMG SO i literally just made a post about this!!! i would point at characters like ENA and Razzle&Dazzle (pictures under cut) and go aw they are literally me! but im like the sad side. i dont know who i thought the "other side" was.

also all our internal monologues (dialogues?) when moving the body places had "we". so if i was thinking about MY opinions and preferences, it would be "i think this and that", but if the body was moving, it was "we need to go to the store/class/etc"

♥️ I think one of the main signs that somebody could have noticed would have been the dramatic shifts in personality. Every day we would have some new "identity" or "aesthetic". We couldn't buy clothes frequently enough to fit our tastes. We also had a ridiculous number of hobbies and interests (way too many for a normal person to manage) that we really couldn't invest enough time in.

Plus the gender-fluidity. It wasn't a sort of peaceful "sometimes I am a guy/girl/neither/both". It was like every time we experienced a "new" gender, everything we had believed before was wrong and no longer applied to us. Then the gender would change again. This was probably each of us headmates fronting and feeling dysphoria with whatever the last fronter had done to our body.

🏠 The constant dissociation might have been a clue. I feel like it was ridiculously obvious in hindsight. How did nobody ever notice us spacing out?

question 138: do you think, looking back, there ever "signs" of your plurality, or of specific system members? did you notice them at the time, or can you only tell now, with hindsight?

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

Hi there, I love your rb mafia au, I really do. The concept is excellent, and I wanted to know if you planned on doing more of it...also, just out of curiosity: would you do a bit of chch and kadewave (maybe graham x boulder) too? Just like you did with daniblades? It would be hilarious to see how a relationship formed on usefulness alone ends up as a fully romantic one...

Thanks!

Honestly, the mafia au is way too much fun. Kadewave straight up won't work in this, Kade is the thug/ strategic breaker of bones, and Heatwave is a rat and will always be a rat, but platonic Boulder x Graham? As a pair of bumbling idiots who think they are in breaking bad, but are actually pinky and the brain without Charlie? Heck yeah, that one's for the history books.

They are both smart people, but they are making meth and nuke together in a VERY confined space, and they DEFINITELY aren't wearing enough/any PPE.

Yeah, the cops got together first. I am not the first one to do a mafia au, there's a great one-shot on Ao3 that I keep forgetting to link, but I love how it's Chase's crush on Charlie that keeps him in line, not the bomb in his subspace or the knowledge that Charlie could make him disappear, just oooooo, tiny cop hot.

It's great.

Dani Blades happened out of basically Stockholm Syndrome, Dani usually has a whole femme Fatale wardrobe that she uses whenever Charlie gives her free rein to kill someone, and boy oh boy, does she look stuuuuunnnnning in black club dresses with plunging necklines and SEVERAL guns strapped to her body.

Unlike Canon Dani, she is a LOT more comfortable with her body and showing skin, so she is often more flirty and outwardly confident with her body, and is not afraid to flirt with the giant space robot if it means he will go just a bit faster. The relationship was a "happy" accident.

I'm going to say, don't get attached to Heatwave in this au, and DaniBlades is going to be a bit of a mindfuck at times, especially as Cody goes through ... negative character development.

I don't want to spoil too much too soon, but yeah, major character death will be a THING here.

[aleksatia]

10 Ways You Ruin His Day (and 10 Ways You Ruin His Self-Control)

I originally made this list as character notes for future stories — I love digging deep into their dynamics and really breaking them down. But honestly? I couldn’t not share. Would love to hear your thoughts too: what do you think drives them absolutely mad, and what turns them into helpless fluff puddles? 🖤

🍎 Top 10 Things That Make Caleb Absolutely, Irrevocably Mad

1 He doesn’t know where you are Even when it makes sense. Even when you’re safe. Even when he’s on the far side of a tunnel with no signal and too much time to think. The silence eats at him, turns every breath into a countdown. By the time he’s back, no one on the base dares talk to him until you’re in his line of sight again.

2 You come home with a bouquet of flowers from another man It’s not jealousy, really. It’s… fury dressed in olive green. You’re standing there, smiling, saying some poor man gave you flowers because you saved his life. Great. Fantastic. Caleb’s thrilled that his girlfriend is both competent and accidentally irresistible. But now he has to pretend this isn’t bothering him while mentally comparing the man's face to strategic punching surfaces.

3 You climb on unstable furniture to reach something You know, nothing fancy—just a stack of books on top of a chair that’s on top of a bench. And you? Balancing like a gremlin in fuzzy socks. He walks in and suddenly the war flashbacks begin. You think it’s funny. He thinks it’s a workplace hazard, and you are the HR violation.

4 You rearrange his model planes He adores you. Worships the ground you walk on. Would throw himself in front of an oncoming dropship for you. But if you dust his shelf and dare to reorder his starfighters and aircrafts by vibes instead of model number? He's already rewriting his will. In blood.

5 You do something reckless and then smile about it You say “relax, I had a plan.” He hears: “I almost died, and I’d do it again, because I’m cute and unstoppable.” That smile? That grin you give when you know exactly what you did and you’re proud of it? That’s why he needs stress meds. And maybe a punching bag with your face on it. (Lovingly.)

6 You casually mention the girl he used to date You say it with a smirk, like it’s just some harmless teenage memory. But he doesn’t see her—he sees you. You, standing in the doorway that day. You, catching him with her, both of them half-undressed. And you looking at him like something cracked between you. Back then, you were off-limits. You were the girl he wasn’t allowed to want. So he wanted someone else. Easier. Safer. And now, years later, you bring it up like it’s nothing—while he’s still trying not to remember how badly he wished it had been you.

7 You weren’t his first kiss—but worse, he wasn’t yours It never comes up. Not out loud. But he remembers. Vividly. The hallway. The way your face lit up. The boy leaning in. You smiling. And Caleb—watching from across the room, fists clenched, jaw tight, playing the role of older brother when his whole body screamed mine. You never talk about it. But he never forgot. Never will. Because that moment should’ve been his—and someone else took it first.

8 You walk away during a fight, or shut down emotionally You call it “space.” He calls it “psychological warfare.” You shut down. He short-circuits. Nothing drives him more insane than trying to fix something while you’re actively ghosting him across the living room. He’d rather you screamed. Threw something. Anything. But this quiet? This distance? That’s the one thing he doesn’t know how to fight.

9 You cry—especially if it’s because of him And then he’s done. Game over. His spine straightens like he’s under military command and his entire soul just went through the paper shredder. You cry, and suddenly he’s the villain. You say “it’s not your fault,” but that doesn’t matter. He’s already rewriting the past and taking full responsibility. And yes, he’ll suffer in complete silence. Like a man.

10 You secretly try to uncover what he’s hiding from you You call it curiosity. He calls it a breach of protocol punishable by full emotional lockdown. You think you’re clever. He thinks you just walked into classified territory barefoot, blindfolded, and with a target on your back. You were never supposed to see that side of his world. And now that you have? He doesn’t know whether to yell, hold you, or lock you in a room with military-grade firewalls and a blanket.

🍎 Top 10 Things That Turn Caleb Into a Complete Fluff-Mess

You wearing his dog tags / uniform shirt / flight jacket Instant puddle. No chance. He sees you in his gear and his brain just... shuts off. All he can think is mine mine mine, and he gets this dumb, soft little smirk like he’s trying so hard not to combust.

You falling asleep on him—especially mid-conversation You’re curled into his side, mumbling something about dinner plans, and then: silence. He looks down, sees you asleep on his chest, and that’s it. Whole day ruined. Cancel all missions. He’s not moving.

You bringing him coffee exactly the way he likes it—without asking That quiet, thoughtful act? Hits him right in the soldier-shaped heart. He doesn’t even know how to process being taken care of, so he stares at the cup like it just proposed to him.

You absentmindedly touching him—fiddling with his fingers, tracing scars, playing with his hair He pretends he doesn’t care. He does. He cares so much he forgets how to breathe. Just turns into a warm, red-eared statue trying not to whimper.

You whispering “I trust you” or “I feel safe with you” in a soft moment Core memory unlocked. He stores that one like sacred intel. Will literally whisper it back to himself at 3 AM when he’s lying awake, missing you. It breaks him in the best way.

You clinging to him in your sleep / pulling him closer without waking up Caleb.exe has stopped functioning. He will lie perfectly still for HOURS if it means not disturbing that moment. Bonus points if you mumble his name while doing it.

You defending him when someone questions his methods or past He’s used to being the shield—not having someone stand in front of him. The second you raise your voice on his behalf? He falls in love with you all over again. Might even cry. Secretly.

You gently helping him out of his gear after a long day Soft hands on his buckles. A kiss to his shoulder. A low “You’re home now.” That’s how you make a Colonel melt. His fingers twitch like he wants to worship the ground you walk on.

You surprising him with something dumb and heartfelt, like a handmade gift or bad sketch of him He acts gruff—says “the hell is this, Pips?”—but then puts it in his locker or keeps it in his chest pocket for missions like it’s sacred treasure. Because it is.

You calling him “baby” / “handsome” / “sweetheart” when he least expects it He acts like it’s annoying. It is not annoying. It turns him into actual butter. If you do it with a teasing smile? He short-circuits. Might drop something. Might combust. Definitely blushes.

🩺 Top 10 Things That Make Zayne’s Calm Snap Like a Microsurgical Thread

You ignore his instructions when you're sick You had a fever of 102°F. He left explicit care instructions—bed rest, fluids, minimal movement. You, sweating and glassy-eyed, decided this was the perfect time to rearrange the furniture. When he came home and found you dragging a bookshelf across the room “because the light felt wrong,” he genuinely considered sedating you. Not as punishment. As damage control. For both of you.

You order greasy fast food instead of going somewhere “nutritionally viable” He offered to cook. You said no. Twenty minutes later, you’re eating fries from a paper bag while half of it spills on his clean table. You grin. He stares. Not angry at the food. Angry because you rejected his precision, then settled for processed chaos.

You leave wet towels on the floor after every shower He’s not sure when it started. Day three? Day five? But every time he walks into the bathroom and steps into cold, soggy cotton, something in him fractures. You claim you “forget.” He suspects a psychological experiment.

You casually mention spending time with male friends You think it’s harmless. Lunch with Caleb. Training advice from Xavier. You light up when you talk about them—and that’s the problem. Zayne doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t raise a brow. But the sudden over-fixation on his email inbox says everything.

You receive a speeding ticket. Forty miles over the limit. You wave it off like it’s a funny little anecdote. He sits in absolute silence, calculating the stopping distance of your car vs. standard reaction time at that speed. You think he’s judging. He’s actually trying not to scream.

You poke his ass. Specifically, between the cheeks. You call it “affection.” He calls it “emotional terrorism.” He flinches like he’s been electrocuted, whips around with murder in his eyes—and you’re giggling like a gremlin. Later, you regret nothing, but your thighs may beg to differ.

When you diagnose him with internet psychology You’ve read one book on attachment styles and watched three reels about emotional unavailability. Now you’ve decided he has "clinical avoidant tendencies with a hint of fear-based control fixation." He stares at you, deadpan, like he's about to perform your autopsy.

You keep spoiled food in the fridge and expired meds in the cabinet You say “it doesn’t smell that bad” or “maybe it still works.” His eye twitches. His gloves are already on. He’s not even mad at you—he’s mad at entropy. You’ve become its agent.

You watch reality shows. About infidelity. Willingly. You claim it’s “just background noise.” But he walks in and hears someone scream “that’s not even your baby, Kyle!” and your eyes are glued to the screen. His soul briefly leaves his body.

You washed his white lab coat. With your pink unicorn pajamas. It’s not just the color. It’s the betrayal. The symbol of his clinical neutrality now smells like bubblegum and looks like cotton candy. You say it’s cute. He looks personally violated by the washing machine.

🩺 Top 10 Things That Make Zayne Soft Against His Will

You bring him lunch at the hospital He never asks. You just appear—arms full of neatly packed containers, face lit up like this isn’t the third double shift he’s worked this week. He complains about the timing. The smell. The disruption. And then eats every bite with frightening focus. You leave. He stares at the empty container like it’s proof someone still believes he’s human.

You quote him back to himself like a philosopher You remember something he said weeks ago—some throwaway line about time or structure or entropy—and you drop it casually in conversation, like it’s wisdom from an ancient text. He doesn’t know how to react. You turned his logic into poetry, and he’ll never recover from that.

You wear the little seal keychain he made He didn’t think you’d keep it. Let alone turn it into your everyday keychain. But there it is—always with you, worn smooth from touch. You twirl it absentmindedly while talking to him, never noticing the way his gaze lingers. Never realizing how something so small can hit him so hard.

You put a photo of the two of you on his desk It appears one day. No fanfare. Just… there. A moment frozen in light, sitting quietly beside his surgical reports and diagnostic schematics. At first, he moves it to the edge. Then back to center. Now it lives next to his pen. He doesn’t talk about it. But it’s the only object on that desk he wipes clean with his bare hand.

His work shirt smells like you You borrowed it that morning, wore it while dancing around the apartment with wet hair and no real purpose. Hours later, when he pulls it on between rounds, the scent hits him like a loaded memory. He short-circuits mid-button. Everything feels warmer than it should.

You leave your phone with him while you shower No password. No hesitation. You toss it into his lap with a breezy “can you clear out whatever’s making it lag?” and vanish behind steam. He sits there, phone in hand, suddenly trusted with everything. He opens nothing. But the fact that you’d let him? That’s the part that shakes him.

You ask for his opinion on minor discomforts A papercut. A weird freckle. A suspicious sneeze. You hold out your hand, utterly serious, asking what he thinks. It’s laughable. Ridiculous. And it absolutely wrecks him. You could ask a dozen others—but you ask him. Like he’s the one who makes things better.

You’re on top He likes control. Precision. Strategy. But when you climb into his lap, all instinct and fire, hands braced on his chest and lips already parted—his brain stops cooperating. There’s something about you taking the lead that makes him unravel. Quietly. Violently. Completely.

You argue with him about complex theories—and mean it You don’t just nod. You push back. You challenge. You quote sources he hasn’t thought about in years. You spark. You flare. And he watches, fascinated, lips twitching with something dangerously close to pride. No one does this. No one dares. But you? You never flinch.

You whisper “I love you” in your sleep It’s not loud. It’s not even clear. Just a faint breath in the dark, like a dream half-remembered. But he hears it. Every time. And though he never says a word in return—not while you're sleeping—his fingers tighten around your waist like he's anchoring himself to the only thing that matters.

🎨 Top 10 Things That Make Rafayel Absolutely, Irrevocably Annoyed at You

You told him his painting was “nice” You stood in front of a piece that cost him three sleepless nights, a minor existential crisis, and two broken brushes—and said “Nice.” Just like that. No gasp, no poetry, no tears. He aged five years on the spot. Somewhere in the distance, a violin cried for him.

You dragged him to a cat exhibit You thought it would be cute. Enrichment. A bonding experience. Instead, he spent the entire time perched on edge, eyes darting like prey. You said “they’re just kittens.” He said nothing. He was too busy making sure none of them came closer than ten feet.

You cleaned his studio You thought you were being helpful. But you moved The Pile. The sacred, unholy, perfectly calibrated mess. Now he can’t find his favorite brush, and also he’s deeply offended by how cheerful you looked doing it.

You didn’t reply to his messages for over an hour He sent three texts, one meme, and a “thinking of you 💭” voice note. You replied 67 minutes later with “sry was showering.” By then, he’d already decided you were breaking up with him, joining a cult, or possibly dead. He had a whole monologue planned. And now you’ve ruined it.

You cut your hair He loved your long hair. Adored it. Worshipped it. You showed up with a sharp little bob and said “it’s just hair.” It is not just hair. It is the collapse of a visual era. He’s still adjusting. And by adjusting, he means mourning with wine.

You made fun of his driving You muttered “technically, you were meant to let the tram go first” He muttered “technically, silence is golden.” His driving is instinct. Vibe. Energy. If you didn’t want drama, you shouldn’t have sat in the passenger seat of a man who parallel parks like he’s in a ballet.

You woke him up too early He went to bed at 4 a.m. because inspiration struck. You woke him at 7:12 like it was nothing, and said “you have that interview, remember?” He does remember. He also remembers specifically telling you that if he ever falls asleep before sunrise, you are to let him die peacefully, cancel all earthly obligations, and throw his alarm clock into the ocean where it belongs.

You hid your phone screen when a message came in You were probably teasing. Just being playful. But now he’s spiraling. Who was it? Why the secrecy? What do you have to hide? Congratulations—you’ve just activated his inner opera villain.

You got jealous Which is absurd. He’s the one who invented possessive affection. But you being jealous? That makes him unreasonably indignant. What do you mean you “didn’t like the way that gallery girl looked at him”? Of course she looked. But he didn’t see her. He saw you.

You burned the bacon You say “it’s fine.” He says it’s charcoal. The entire kitchen smells like culinary war crimes. And now he’ll have to burn incense and replant three garden beds to recover emotionally. Who even let you near the stove? Who hurt you? Was it… the bacon?

🎨 Top 10 Ways You Accidentally Turned Rafayel Into a Purring, Love-Drunk Work of Art

You massage his head He’s mid-rant. Arms crossed. Absolutely furious about the lighting in that gallery. And then your fingers slip into his hair—and just like that, the war is over. His entire body melts like he’s been tranquilized. He’ll deny it later, of course. But the way he leans into your hand? Case closed.

You claim him in public It’s an art gala. He’s dressed to ruin people. And then you slip your arm through his, fingers just tight enough to say mine. You smile like a goddess. He pretends he’s unaffected. Inside, he’s writing vows in ten languages and considering printing matching business cards.

You actually listen to his advice He knows he can be dramatic. Unfiltered. Emotionally volatile. But when you sit there, really listening, nodding like his words matter—you destroy him. Suddenly he’s not the chaos. He’s the compass. And that? That’s love.

You share every detail of your day over dinner You talk about everything—the lady at the store, the funny email, the awful latte. You give him your day like a story, like he’s the only one you wanted to tell. He leans in, listens too closely, files away each emotion like a collector of rare art.

You’re always down for his wildest ideas It’s 3 a.m. He wants to hike 2.5 miles along the beach, take a boat to a tiny island, and watch the sunrise with wine. You say “give me five minutes.” And just like that, you become the only person worthy of his wildest, most beautiful chaos.

You let him photograph you Nothing compares. Not awards. Not praise. Nothing rivals the moment you look into his lens—bare, unfiltered, unashamed. Especially when you’re nude, glowing, and laughing like the world doesn’t exist. That’s when he falls in love with you all over again. And again. And again.

You let him choose your dress You come out in the one he picked. Elegant. Perfect. You spin for him. And the way he watches you? Like he made you. Like you’re the gallery and he’s the only one with the key. It’s not fashion. It’s trust. And he adores you for it.

You sing when you don’t know he’s home Wearing socks and earbuds, dancing with a broom, serenading your way through burnt pancakes. You’re off-key. Glorious. Real. And he stands in the doorway, silent, just watching. Because in that moment—you’re not posing. And he’s never loved you more.

You take care of him when he’s sick He has a fever of 99°F and insists he’s fading. You bring tea, stroke his hair, whisper that he’s “very brave.” You don’t mock him. You take his dramatics seriously. He will never forget it. He may also write you into his will.

You join him in the bathtub without asking He’s already halfway submerged, music playing, steam curling in the air—and then you slip in behind him, no warning. You nudge your legs around his hips, hand him your shampoo, and let him wash your hair while you giggle. He tries to act unimpressed. But when he starts kissing your toes? Yeah. You win.

✨ Top 10 Behavioral Anomalies That Triggered Xavier’s Internal Alert System

You break an agreement—even if it's “just a small one” It’s not about control. It’s about structure. You promised. And when you bend the rules—just slightly—he doesn’t react outwardly. No visible shift, no sharp breath. But something behind his eyes goes cold. Because for him, even small deviations mean recalculating everything. And that means risk. To you.

You create drama “just to get a reaction” You push. You poke. You escalate. And he gives you… nothing. No outburst, no flinch. Just that flat, unreadable stare while he mentally exits the room. He doesn’t get angry—he just shuts off the part of himself that wants to stay.

You refuse his protection—on principle You call it independence. He calls it a strategic vulnerability wrapped in pride. He won’t argue. He’ll just be one step farther back the next time, quietly cataloging how to stop caring just enough that it won’t kill him if something happens.

You call him cold—especially when he’s holding himself together for you You see stillness. He feels restraint. You accuse. He remembers what it takes to not become the darker version of himself. If only you knew how much energy it took to stay composed. If only you knew it was for you.

You’re late Five minutes. Ten. No message. No explanation. And his pulse ticks upward—not with impatience, but with pure, trained alertness. He starts looking for signs. Traffic reports. Emergency alerts. By the time you arrive, he’s smiling. But it’s the tight kind. The kind that says never again.

You skip training You’re tired. You had a long day. You say you’ll make it up later. He doesn’t argue. He just recalculates survival probabilities and mentally adds you to the list of people who might die because they were unprepared. And he will blame himself for letting you get soft.

You pull away from his touch when you're angry It’s not the rejection. It’s the meaning behind it. He reaches out—small, careful, calculated—and you shut the door in his face with a single backward step. He doesn’t try again. He doesn’t ask why. But the space you leave behind? It echoes.

You use a photo of Lumiere as a bookmark You think it’s cute. Maybe even sweet. He sees it—and freezes. He’s not jealous. Not exactly. But the idea that you might admire that version more—the legend, the mask, the sharpness—it unsettles something deep. Something he can’t name.

You secretly believe you’re not good enough for him You never say it out loud. But he sees it—in your deflections, your nervous jokes, the way you doubt his love like it’s a glitch. It doesn’t anger him in the usual sense. It just…hurts. Because you’re the only one who never had to earn it.

You throw yourself in front of him during a mission It’s instinct, you say. Split-second decision. You didn’t even think. And that’s the problem. He does. Always. Every variable, every movement, every risk is accounted for—except you breaking formation to protect him. You think it’s brave. He sees it as catastrophic miscalculation. Not because you acted without logic. But because you decided his life was worth more than yours. And that? That’s the one conclusion he refuses to accept.

✨Top 10 Things That Quietly Break Xavier’s Walls and Leave Him Unreasonably Soft About You

When you start reading the same book he’s readingYou don’t announce it. You just show up with the same title, a few chapters behind, and start casually asking questions. He plays it off. But inside? He’s spiraling. Because this—this—is how you speak his language. Silently. Precisely. Together.

When you knock on his door like you’re trying to break it downIt’s loud. Impatient. Inappropriate for the hour. But he knows that knock. That rhythm. That you. You need him. Not his solutions. Him. And somehow, that chaos pounding on his door feels more like home than anything else.

When you hug him from behindYou wrap your arms around his torso mid-task, face pressed between his shoulder blades, palms splayed across his chest like you’re anchoring yourself to something ancient and steady. He stills. Every time. Like someone just whispered a secret to his bones. He never asks why. Never moves away. He just tilts his head slightly—listening, as if your silence said everything he needed to hear.

When you touch his sword (the actual weapon, calm down)He never lets anyone handle it. Not even for cleaning. But your fingers skim the hilt, gentle, curious, reverent. And somehow… it’s okay. You’re not just touching steel. You’re touching him. And he lets you.

When you act like a little girlYou scrunch your nose. Say something ridiculous. Blush like you didn’t mean to. And he watches—utterly disarmed. Because he knows exactly what you want. You want him to carry you. Wrap you up. Keep you safe. And he will—without hesitation.

When you join him on a morning runYou complain. You lag. You swear this is “not your vibe.” But you still show up. Same hour. Same route. And when you match his pace for those few precious minutes? He doesn’t say it—but he’s proud. Painfully proud.

When you share your dreams—and say “we”You’re rambling. Light spilling from your words. Talking about the future, the maybes, the next steps. But you don’t say I. You say we. And that sound? That tiny shift in grammar? It settles deep. Irrevocable. Permanent.

When you make matching braceletsYou say it’s silly. Handmade. Slightly uneven. There’s a charm shaped like a rabbit. He never takes it off. Not in combat. Not in sleep. It rests against his wrist like a pressure point—and grounds him better than anything else.

When you remember his habitsYour shopping list always includes his cinnamon. His brand of shampoo. The exact instant noodles he pretends not to love. You don’t make a show of it. You just know. And that knowing? It destroys him in the softest possible way.

When you trust him completely in bed—even when his darker side surfacesThere’s a moment—quiet, charged—when the softness shifts. He waits. Watches. Braces for resistance. But you don’t pull back. You open your hands. Arch into him. Let him take control without fear. That? That’s what breaks him. Not the pleasure. The trust.

🖤Top 10 Things That Push Sylus Into Maximum Sarcasm and Mildly Homicidal Disapproval

Your outdated, unreliable weapon Yes, he gets it. It’s vintage. It’s “standard issue.” It’s approved by the Hunters Association. Congratulations. That won’t matter when it jams and gets you killed. Every time you return one of the sleek, upgraded firearms he hand-delivers like he’s your personal armory concierge, he has to resist asking if you've already made a draft of your death wish. Alphabetically sorted. With floral headers.

You chew gum—and pop it It’s not the gum. It’s the snap. The sudden, violent pop of sugary air bubbles that hits his trauma response like a trigger. He knows it’s just a noise. His shoulder still twitches. He’s this close to reaching into your mouth and extracting the gum like a gentleman. A very sarcastic, deeply annoyed, half-feral gentleman.

You try to shake your tail (him) You use stealth tech. You block your signal. You go dark. Adorable. You’re forgetting that the very system you’re relying on was developed by his own syndicate. The only person who ever really evades Sylus is Sylus. And maybe the cat that lives under his car. But not you. Never you.

You don’t introduce him as your boyfriend to your old classmates You panicked. He gets that. You called him “a friend.” And now he’s deeply committed to the bit. For the next seven days, every time you said anything, he replied with “Of course, as your friend…” in front of waiters, dealers, and one extremely confused ambassador. You only managed to shut it down by hastily posting a photo of you two with the caption “my boyfriend and the love of my life.” Acceptable recovery. Barely.

You refuse to use his resources His private jet? Untouched. His cars? Collecting dust. His black card? Sitting unused like some kind of insult in your purse. You say you’re “independent.” He says you’re actively offending his entire lifestyle philosophy. Do you have any idea how disrespectful it is to ignore an entire walk-in wardrobe prepared for you in his estate? Honestly, it’s almost admirable. Almost.

You once smoked a cigarette, and he saw it He didn’t say anything. At the time. Just looked at you. Silently. Like someone had drop-kicked a kitten in front of him. He’s not judging. He’s just picturing your lungs in an ashtray. And adding another page to your death wish list.

You speak in riddles and expect him to “get it” You want something—time away, a trip, his attention—but instead of asking, you sigh dramatically and murmur, “It’s fine. I guess some people just don’t want to escape the city with their girlfriends…” He blinks. Slow. Dangerous. “Was that a request, a riddle, or an emotional booby trap?” If you want something from him, Kitten, try using nouns and verbs. Not cryptic guilt puzzles.

You suggest another woman would be “perfect for him” It’s a joke. Offhand. Barely a breath. But your voice wavers—just slightly—and that ruins it. He doesn’t want her. He doesn’t want options. He wants you. And now, thanks to your charming lapse in self-worth, he has to waste the rest of the evening reminding you that this face, this power, this entire empire already belongs to someone. Guess who.

You sneak up on him You never mean to. But somehow, you're always the one person who slips past every alarm, every trained instinct, and ends up whispering behind him when his brain is still in kill mode. It takes everything in him to not react on pure reflex. You think it’s cute. He thinks it’s potentially catastrophic.

You don’t believe him when he says he’s fine Yes, he’s bleeding. Yes, his shirt is soaked. But he said “it’s a scratch,” and when he says that—he means it. His body heals like a myth. Your worried face? It makes something in him ache. Because the real wound isn’t on him—it’s in you, for thinking he’s anything less than unbreakable.

🖤 Top 10 Things That Make Sylus Dangerously Soft for You (And Yes, He’s Keeping Score)

When you finally spend his money It started with coffee. Small. Harmless. But the alert hit his phone and, for a moment, he genuinely wondered if his card had been stolen—until he saw your name. And something in him shifted. Not because of the cost. Please. He could buy the city it was brewed in. No, it was the fact you used it. You. Willingly. Now? You’re bolder—little dresses, shoes, jewelry you don’t need. And every time you do, he rewards it like you just proved you understand the assignment: what's his, is already yours.

When you give orders to his men like you're the boss You don’t ask. You instruct. Calm, certain, completely in charge. One of his men hesitates—just once—while you’re directing them to rescue a terrified kitten stuck in a tree. Sylus doesn’t interfere. He just watches, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his mouth as armed professionals scramble to obey you like you're the patron saint of lost animals. Somewhere in his mind, he’s already fitted you for a crown. With tiny cat ears.

When you secretly pet Mephisto The mechanical raven used to drive you insane. Now? You’re sneaking him treats and absentminded scratches under the jaw. Sylus sees it. Says nothing. But deep down, he knows: if you’ve accepted the bird—you’ve accepted all of him. And that’s lethal. To him.

When you make him a playlist You never explain them. Just send a link and say nothing. But he listens—every time. Alone. In his car. In the bath. Eyes closed, calculating your every choice like it’s encrypted intel. Each track? A hint. A mood. A coded message from you to him. He doesn’t ask for them. He just waits for the next one. And when it arrives, he treats it like gospel.

When you leave a trail of chaos in his car Your hair on the seat. Your gum wrappers in the cup holder. The seat so close to the wheel he practically has to fold in half. And the music? A full-volume love ballad ready to ambush his eardrums at ignition. It's obnoxious. It’s inconvenient. It’s perfect. His life, now featuring you.

When you eat from his plate You swore you weren’t hungry. You said “no carbs this week.” And now? You’re stealing fries from his hand and dipping into his steak sauce like it’s your birthright. He doesn’t stop you. He just watches you chew with that look that says: mine. forever.

When you talk and talk and talk Something happens. You spiral. Words spill. Thoughts tangle. You’re not even aware you’re rambling—but he is. He listens to everything. Stores it all. Because there’s something magical about your voice when it’s unfiltered. You don’t realize it, but he falls a little harder every time you forget to censor yourself.

When you crawl into his lap while he’s working He’s in the middle of paperwork. Calculating things. Dangerous things. And suddenly—you. Right there. Knees on either side, arms around his neck, like the world’s most beautiful interruption. He tells himself he needs to finish. But his hands are already on your hips.

When you call and ask for help A jar. A stuck zipper. A ride. It doesn’t matter. You’re a trained hunter—you’ve faced things with claws, fangs, and no name. But you still call him. Because you want him. And that? That wrecks him in ways he’ll never admit. He’s already on his way before you hang up.

When you scream his name right before you come There’s a lot he’s proud of. His empire. His power. His record. But nothing—nothing—satisfies him more than the moment your voice breaks open with his name. Like prayer. Like surrender. Like he’s the only thing in your world. Which, of course… he is.

[rafeslvbug]

how reader humbled nfl!rafe…

(when they were eighteen)

you wrapped your zipper around you tighter, tucking your hair behind your ears as it whipped across your face. lip bitten in anxiousness, standing to the side as you watched rafe compete others in drills.

he’d been scouted at one of his recent games, for a big team who needed a younger player, needed a capable quarterback. now he was on day two of relentless drills, a table off to the left being drafted of different times. he’d come up top on most, the 40 yard dash, vertical jump and whatnot, and you could see it in the way he moved, the way he laughed when other players got a lesser score than him.

it was getting to his head.

you couldn’t interrupt him now, but you knew one or two things. tomorrow were psychological evaluations : interviews to test his qualities and character. currently, you had a feeling his character would be quite negative - no one liked a cocky player.

spotting an assessor standing not too far from you, you discreetly shuffle your way around the area to him, standing next to him for the briefest moments before you broke into your sweetest smile. “hi,” you greeted, giving him a little side wave. glancing at you, awkwardly repeating your gesture the assessor greeted you in return, before returning to his clipboard and fixating his eyes on the players before him.

you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, biting the inside of your cheek as you said, “some of these players are really good, huh?”

the assessor only nodded.

“uhm, i was just wondering…what’d you think of cameron? number 11?” you asked, clarifying with a timid point of your finger. the assessor raises one eyebrow at you, like he’s questioning why he should divulge that information to you.

you have a feeling it won’t help your cause, in fact, you’re sure it will worsen it as you answer with, “he’s my boyfriend…”

shaking his head, the assessor sighs and mumbles, “can’t tell you, look at the board, see for yourself.”

pursing your lips together, you internally groan - you’ve already seen the board. it’s all you’ve watched as rafe’s name’s been marked up at the top of each and every event. the stats are not what you want. “okay but don’t you think he’s a bit cocky? you can tell me that right?” you ask, turning to face him now, arms over your chest and bit more insistent.

the assessor says something to another man on the side, facing you when he inquires, “you sure he’s your boyfriend?”

momentarily stunned at his question, you fiercely nod your head. “yes! it’s just..he’s worked hard for this and i don’t want him to blow it all away because of his ego! you see, our high school wasn’t that known, and there wasn’t much competition, so his ego kind of had room to grow, and here it’s not really helping and i was just thinking if there’s anyway i could maybe help-” your ramblings are cut off when the assessor all but yells at you to stop.

“okay! okay! here’s what i think: your boy has everything every assessor is looking for, but if i was hiring someone - and i’m not saying anything - but if i was, i would rather the second best if he’s got the mindset to grow, over the best if he already thinks he’s the best.” the assessor gives you a slow nod as your worst fears are confirmed, and he turns back to the players who’ve begun their break.

“thank you!” you exclaim before running off to the edge where rafe’s coming off. he’s taking off his helmet, widest grin on his face, and expecting you to hug him as you usually do. but when your hands hit his chest and he stumbles back, he’s suddenly very confused.

“what was that for?” he asks, hands palm up, looking at you with bewilderment as your arms are crossed over your chest.

“for being cocky!” you say sternly, deciding that you would not let rafe blow his shot.

“cocky? sweetheart, come on! it’s not cocky, i’m just better!” he defends, pulling a face when he realises that what he said is no better, and your eyes have just widened because he’s proven your point.

“see! no, rafe! ugh! these people, are just as good as you, or they’re close, okay?” you turn him towards the board, pointing as if to show him the boys who are under him on the table, close behind. “they can catch up! they want it as bad as you do, if you spend so much time in your head you won’t get any better, you’ll let them catch up because you think you know everything there is!”

he almost looks offended, being scolded by his girlfriend during try outs. but he stays silent, not like he was even given an opportunity to speak during your lecture.

“and imagine when we get married!” you gasp, the depth of him becoming an arrogant, and hated player dawning on you. rafe can’t help the smile that spreads on his face when you say ‘when’, but he tries to contain it after you lightly swat his arm.

“imagine everyone hates you because you’re so cocky and then they hate me! i won’t have them hating me rafe, or our kids! do you understand?” you demand of him, pointing a finger in his face. rafe’s fully grinning, the mention of marriage and kids putting him in a better mood.

“yes ma’am,” he mocks, although he’s taken you quite seriously, darting his head forward to playfully try and bite your finger before you retract it with a scowl.

“rafe..” you warn, worried he isn’t listening properly.

“no cockiness! respect the other players! be a good sportsman!” he summarises, holding his hands up in mock surrender, helmet clutched in his right hand. he leans his head down, dimpled smile on his face as he asks, “can i get my kiss now, luck?”

you snatch his helmet from his hand, shoving it over his head with an ill-contained grin. “only when you get on the team,” you promise through slips of laughter, watching him groan and walk away, back to the other players.

later on, when you lock eyes with the assessor, he gives you a slow and subtle nod, as if to say rafe’s behaviour is better now. and you only look forward, watching your boyfriend who you know is going to be a star one day.

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: Your favourite things about your future spouse ✮⋆˙

✧˚. How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

✧˚. If you enjoyed this reading, get your own personalized paid reading here!😊🦋

✧˚. For personalized 18+ readings, click here!

✧˚. My Ko-fi link: here 🫶🏻

✧˚. My Masterlist🫶🏻

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE I

Cards Pulled: High Priestess, the Chariot, Judgment, Justice, Knight of Wands and oracle cards

Okay, honey, welcome to this pile 1!! Let’s see into what you’ll be lowkey obsessed with when it comes to your future spouse hehe. Before I start this reading, I just wanna mention something really crucial here, UHM......... y'all are LUCKY AF. 😭😭like TF. Also for people who chose this pile, the person described here is sooo similar to the character of Sang Yan from the C-drama The First Frost. I haven't even watched that drama yet, just saw it all over tiktok and insta reels and it's soo crazy how I was constantly thinking about him throughout writing this. The way he carries himself in that drama and SPECIFICALLY HIS EYES. THIS PILE IS LITERALLY HIM. PERIODT.

First off, this person is Mysterious AF. Like you know when someone doesn’t post on social media but when they do, it’s in black and white with a strange caption and you’re like “HELLO? What does it mean??” so Yeah, that’s their entire vibe. It’s not that they’re quiet, NO NO, they’re intentional with everything they do. Everything they do feels magical to you, even if it’s just tying their shoes. You’re gonna love how they somehow make you slow down and listen more, not just to them but to your own damn intuition as well. I’m getting this image of you two sitting on the floor, legs touching, and you’re rambling about your day while they just watch you like you’re a rare eclipse. And they’ll say something like “You feel like the ocean right before a storm,” and boom. You’re ruined.

And OMG don’t even get me started on the emotional depth… because wow.

Yeah, I got CHILLS. Literal chills. ? Bestie, your future spouse doesn’t just love you, they DROWN in you. There’s a softness to them that feels ancient. Like they’ve lived a thousand lives and chose you in every single one. Their love language? Definitely some spicy combination of telepathy, forehead kisses, and knowing your exact comfort food without you saying a word. And yet, they’re not soft in the doormat way. HELL NO. Baby, this person moves. When they decide they want something? Game over. They’re a force. You’ll love how they’ll be gentle with your soul but a literal wildfire for your protection. Someone stares at you weird? They’ve clocked it. You’re nervous to speak up in a group? They smoothly redirect the convo so you shine. It’s that ride-or-die loyalty with a spicy side of “Don’t mess with what’s mine.”

Your future spouse has transformed by the time they meet you. Like… phoenix out of the ashes levels of rebirth. I’m seeing someone who may have had to break out of their own cycles, maybe even some shadow work that slapped, but they did the work. That’s something you’ll absolutely adore about them: their self-awareness. You’ll be so drawn to how they hold themselves accountable. They’ve probably been the villain in someone else’s story, and instead of playing the victim, they faced it. Shadow work? Check. Therapy? Likely. Apologies? Given when needed. They’ve done a full spiritual exfoliation, and now? They’re GLOWING. AND they treat you with such intentional fairness. They don’t play games, they don’t breadcrumb, and they sure as hell don’t ghost (WHEW. thank god cuz i hate that shit) What you’ll cherish most is how they show up for you, consistently. Every little action feels like, “I see you. I honor you. I’m choosing you, even on the messy days.”

And um, can we please talk about how HOT they are when they’re PASSIONATE??? Because the Knight of Wands is coming in LOUD with main-character energy and It’s giving “I’m dragging you into the hallway to make out because I missed you for two hours.” FJNIDNSBTRVIH There’s a bit of chaos in their passion, but like… the fun, flirty, seductive kind. You’ll catch yourself staring when they’re focused on something they care about, eyes lit, words flying, and it’ll hit you: “Damn. That’s my person.” Like they could be talking about some weird niche topic, idk, the ethics of time travel or why a band’s debut album was superior, and you’re just sitting there like, “Okay, philosopher.” It’s hot. It’s brainy. It’s unhinged. And it’s so them. (did i just describe my type here?) 

But here’s the real one, your potential most favorite thing? It’s how they love you through your shadows.

It tells me that they don’t just love your highlights, babe. They’re the one who knows about the parts you try to hide, and loves them deeper. You’ll feel so safe being raw with them. Like crying-on-the-floor-at-2am kind of safe. They’ll be the person who doesn’t try to fix it, they’ll just sit with you in it. You’ll finally feel like, “Oh. I don’t have to perform here.” Also, minor side message that just smacked me: they might help you release a generational wound. Yep. It’s giving “breaking ancestral chains with one good relationship.” I’m not saying they’re your healer (you’re healing yourself, boo), but they are a safe space that lets the healing happen. And the ocean symbolism? BABY. Their love is like the tide, constant, natural, overwhelming in the best way. You might not even realize how deeply they’ve rooted into you until one day they’re not there for a few hours and you’re like, “Why does the air taste different???”

Okay, a few more spicy psychic messages which I got throughout the reading I'll drop here before we close because the tea is still hot:

You’ll love their hands. Like, obsessively. Spirit keeps showing me images of their hands wrapping around yours, brushing your hair back, gripping your waist, yeah, you’re gonna be down bad. They have a “hidden” creative side. Music? Poetry? Painting war miniatures? IDK 😭but it’s something they keep private until they trust you, and once you see it? Prepare to melt. 🫠 They’re a consent king/queen. In the bedroom, in arguments, in making plans, they’re always checking in. Always making sure your voice is heard. It’s HOT. You’ll laugh together in the weirdest moments. Like cracking up during a serious movie or turning a grocery run into a full-on comedy sketch. The emotional intimacy? Unreal.

Liked the reading? get your own personalized super in-depth paid reading here!

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE II

Cards Pulled: Death, Ace of Cups, Four of Cups, Five of Pentacles, Knight of Cups and oracle cards

OKAY BESTIE… buckle the HELL up. This pile??? This pile is literally a love letter from the universe, and it’s about your future spouse in a way that’s got me gasping and screaming into the void. Like, if you’ve ever wondered what it would feel like to be truly chosen, truly adored, and truly transformed by love??? this is THAT reading. I’m already sweating more because the cards are kinds big ones as you can see😭 . This ain’t a crush. This is main character's energy meets divine rebirth through love . And your favourite thing about this person? Oh honey... it's EVERYTHING they awaken in you. But let me explain because DAMN it gets DEEP. 💀

this pile is all about how utterly devoted and obsessed he is with you, but in that controlled, sexy, lowkey psycho but make it romantic way. He doesn’t say much, but when he does?? It cuts straight to your soul. He makes you feel like the only person that’s ever existed. And when he touches you? The world fades.

Okay so first of all, this love is not soft-launch energy. Actually there’s no soft energy here. It’s not the kind of love where you post a blurry arm on IG stories and call it a day. No no. This is Death + Ace of Cups type of sh*t. This person literally drags you out of a fog you didn’t even know you were in. Like, imagine going through life feeling fine, maybe kinda meh, autopilot vibes, and then BOOM. You meet this person and suddenly, colors are brighter. Food tastes better. Music hits differently. You’re like, “Wait, am I ALIVE again??” Yeah. That.

You don’t just fall in love with them. You fall in love with yourself through their eyes. Because they see you in this way no one ever has before. They don’t pedestal you in some weird, unreachable way, but they mirror back your rawest essense. And you start to remember who TF you are. ✨ Like, you start off this journey feeling a lil rejected, a lil disillusioned (Four of Cups + Five of Pentacles energy… hello loneliness my old friend), but through this love?? You rise. You blossom. You reclaim your power. The crown was always yours, you just forgot. They don’t give you your power back, babe. They just remind you where you left it. And that?! That is your favorite thing about them: they activate the version of you that had been buried under years of rejection, doubt, and disconnection.

Bestie, I’m not gonna sugarcoat, this is NOT some sunshiney, fluffy past you’ve been through. You’ve known the ache of being left out in the cold. Maybe you’ve been the one always giving, always chasing, always hoping for scraps of love from people who didn’t even deserve to speak your name. You’ve had your heart cold-stoned and ghosted and breadcrumbed, and you were probably starting to believe that maybe love just wasn’t in the cards for you. Enter: this person.

They don’t just walk in with roses and pretty words (though they absolutely do that too, Knight of Cups energy is full-on poetic simp vibes 😭). But more importantly?? They SHOW UP. When you expect abandonment, they stay. When you push them away, they lean in. When you flinch at love, they don’t take it personally, they just hold you through it. You’re not their project. You’re their equal, their mirror, their muse. And you’ll find yourself sobbing randomly, “Wait… this is what it’s supposed to feel like??” Because for the first time, love isn’t a battlefield. It’s a sanctuary. It’s not conditional. It’s safe. I’m not kidding when I say this person is the Knight of Cups in every form. So with this person prepare to also see the perfect blend of this combination. prepare for random voice notes at midnight because they saw a cloud that looked like your side profile. Prepare for forehead kisses, poetic ramblings, playlists that sound like your soul. But also?? It’s not performative. It’s not just vibes and aesthetics. It’s intentional.

They speak your love language fluently, even the ones you didn’t know you had. You like thoughtful gifts? Boom, they kept the receipt from your first coffee date and made it into a bookmark for your favorite book. You like acts of service? Baby, they’re doing your laundry and ordering your comfort food on a day you can’t get out of bed. You like words of affirmation? They’re sending full monologues about how divine you are. Honestly, at some point you’re gonna be like, “Can you STOP being obsessed with me for five seconds?” But also you’ll be like, don’t stop. Ever. 😭

Let’s circle back to that Death card because whew… this is the CORE. Your favorite thing about this person isn’t just what they do, it’s who they are and who they inspire you to become. You literally go through a soul transformation in their presence. They don’t fall in love with your mask. They fall in love with your shadow. With the parts you thought made you unlovable. With your mess, your moods, your madness, and suddenly, those parts stop feeling like flaws and start feeling like facets of your magic. And in turn?? You’ll start holding them that way too. You won’t be idolizing each other. You’ll be liberating each other. This love isn’t about being perfect, it’s about being real. It’s about death and rebirth. It’s about watching each other burn and saying, “I still choose you.” They are going to be your favorite revolution.

"Wear your power proudly and unapologetically" is not just advice, it’s what your future spouse pulls out of you. You’ve spent so long shrinking. So long waiting for permission. And this person? They’re gonna hand you the crown and go, “You were born royalty. Act like it.” And the best part? They don’t do it for clout. They don’t flaunt you like a trophy. They cherish you like you’re made of stardust and war paint. Your softest parts are sacred to them. Your weirdness? Worshipped. Your power? Encouraged. Like babe... you will feel both feral and safe in their arms. Do you know how rare that is????

Okay this is so random but it came through SO clearly, I’m getting this image of you hating Mondays your whole life, until this person shows up and suddenly?? You’re excited for the week. You’re looking forward to slow morning texts, coffee runs together, messy buns and “just 5 more minutes” cuddles before they leave for work. They re-sensitize you to the beauty of everyday things. And that is so underrated. They make your life feel like poetry again.

 Final random Favorite Things You’ll Obsess Over:

The way they say your name like it’s a prayer. Youll love listening to your name from them. Their ability to sense your moods before you speak. That would be their superpower, honestly. And also the contrast of their softness in private vs their strength in public.

Liked the reading? get your own personalized super in-depth paid reading here!

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE III

Cards pulled: Six of Swords, The Empress, The Fool, Five of Wands, Ace of Swords amd oracle cards

OMG This pile wow. This is “you didn't know you were starving ‘til they fed you” energy. Wow that was deep LOL. They LOVE the full spectrum of you. Your sensitivity, your rage, your need to cry during commercials, he eats it up. Encourages you to take up space. He celebrates your chaos. And the banter would UNMATCHED.

So first off, let me just say this: I legit felt like I was watching one of those dramatic K-drama slow burns when I started reading this pile. Like ep 1 is you emotionally limping out of some messy chapter of your life, and ep 16 is you soft-smiling while they brush hair from your face and I’m crying just thinking about it 😭 but I digress—

Now let’s start peeling the layers of this absolutely BONKERS beautiful energy: your fave things about this person, Oh honey. It’s not just their looks (although, side note, the way they carry themselves, that quiet “I know who tf I am” swag? Oof. HOT). But no, what melts you? What gets you twisted in the sheets, It’s their consistency with their expression of emotions, their emotional maturity, and the fact that they’re lowkey your safe space after a lifetime of chaos. Yeah, I said it. The trauma you didn’t even realize you were still carrying, they help you walk that.

And listen. This person doesn’t swoop in and fix you, don’t get it wrong. They don’t love you despite your wounds, they love you with them. Like “hand-in-hand with your demons” type love. They don’t run when things get messy. You’ll sit there anxious and they’ll hand you a coffee mug and be like, “Keep talking, I’m not going anywhere.” THAT kind of presence. Yeah, bestie. That’s what you’re gonna worship. But don’t think this is some therapist in a man’s body situation either lmao. There’s a whole wild side to this person too, like, this person challenges the fck outta you.😂 They’re gonna debate you for fun, tease you just to make you roll your eyes, push your buttons not to be toxic, but because it turns them on to see you all passionate and fired up. The intellectual banter is chef’s kiss. Your fave thing about them is that you never get bored with them. They don’t just nod along, they’re present. They got opinions, they got a backbone, and they’re not afraid to go toe to toe with you when you are acting up (and honestly? You love it).

This pile is all about liberation. Your fave thing about them is how they remind you of who you are before the world made you smaller. They give you permission to laugh too loud, cry too much, and dream too big. And they're gonna do it all right beside you.

Now The way they see you… like, you're not just a person to them. You're a literal universe. The way they look at you when you’re ranting about something random, Or doing your skincare, Or just existing in oversized pajamas, They’re gone. Fully GONE. And because of that, you start to see yourself differently too, which is honestly the best part. Like, your favorite thing about this person is how they love you into softness, into full self-worth. They speak to the parts of you that felt unworthy and whisper, “More. You deserve more.” You start walking different because of how deeply they hold space for you.

 😩 Baby This person is your reset button. You’ve been carrying so much emotional weight from past relationships, maybe even from family crap, old fears, toxic exes, and here comes this person like… “Why are you still dimming your light?” this is literally them encouraging you to live a little, say yes more. Take the leap. Splurge. Cry. Yell. Make a mess. Be too much. They LOVE that you're extra. They don't flinch when you're chaotic. They jump off the cliff with you, giggling. (that one was a little exaggerated but nvm😭)

Like, your favorite thing about them is how much they let you take up space. Not just tolerate it. They encourage it. “You are worth every desire, every dream. Demand what is yours.” And this person believe in that. They fight for that. And I’m telling you right now, they’ll probably be the one who drags you to that dream vacation you were too shy to plan, or who makes you apply for the job you think you're not good enough for. They see your power. They know your value. And it becomes your favorite mirror. 💅

And YESSSS, there’s a sexuality to this pile too 😏.This person? They worship your body like it’s art. Like a damn temple. And it’s not just hot passionate nights, it's playful, explorative, curious, FUN. That “I can’t keep my hands off you but I also wanna laugh in your neck while doing it” kinda vibe. 😭That alone could’ve been the whole reading LMAO. But here's the secret sauce: the emotional intimacy hits harder than the physical. It's the way they look at you when you’re vulnerable. When you’re quiet. When you’re in your dark. They just get you. Like intuitively. You’ll be like “I didn’t even say anything” and they’re already making you soup or running you a bath or telling you to block that toxic friend. HOW DO THEY KNOW??? Idk, babes. Soul contract things. 💀

OH and one more image i saw, you're going through a rough time emotionally. You're bawling, maybe imposter syndrome, maybe an old wound opened up, idk, but this person, they stop everything and hold your face and say something brutally honest but loving like: “You forget who you are. Let me remind you.” And it floors you. Floors. You. 🥹

Liked the reading? get your own personalized super in-depth paid reading here!

Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[crushmeeren]

Camp counselor! Katsuki is a senior counselor who’d come to camp every year until he turned fourteen. A junior counselor at seventeen. Now he’s twenty three, a senior counselor for years, and he doesn’t plan on quitting anytime soon.

Camp counselor! Katsuki takes you under his wing. You’d been a senior counselor at a different camp the previous summer, so you had a lukewarm grip on how things work, but he showed you the lay of the land, so to speak. Introduced you to the kids that return to All Might’s Mighty Warriors each year, to the friends / other counselors he’d grown up with — a.k.a. Eijirou, Izuku, Denki, even Shouto.

Camp counselor! Katsuki is stunning from the moment you meet him. Blonde hair shining in the hot summer sun, glowing like an angel. Skin sun kissed and smooth, only pale beneath the straps of his tank top, tan lines obvious and dizzying if he shifts the right way. You wonder how far below his shorts those tan lines go.

Camp counselor! Katsuki is firm, a tough love kind of man. He also lifts the kids spirits, encouraging them and giving constructive feedback when they need his help. They hang on every word, hero worship like you wouldn’t believe. He loves them too, though. He does the same for you, and it’s easy to understand with every fiber of your being why they look at Katsuki with stars in their eyes.

Camp counselor! Katsuki participates in every. single. activity. He’s competitive as all hell, and as much as the kids complain he’s doing too much, they secretly love it. Katsuki swims with them, he plays sand volleyball, basketball, tag — even arts and crafts. There’s nothing he won’t do.

Camp counselor! Katsuki is serious about sunscreen and skin protection. He gathers the kids every two hours to reapply. When you ask Katsuki to get your back he smirks. “Atta girl,” he praises, motioning for you to spin. “Can’t have a pretty thing like you burnin’ up, can we?” When his fingers untie the swimsuit knot at the nape of your neck blood rushes to your cheeks. Katsuki doesn’t miss a spot. He lathers it across your back, your shoulders, the nape of your neck. You return the favor and almost pass out.

Camp counselor! Katsuki loves s’mores. After all the kids have gone to bed, he sits at your side by the fire, thigh to thigh. Stories of his past camp experiences mingle with the crackle of fire and the song of cicadas. He assembles enough s’mores for a lifetime. The other counselors join, reminiscing with stories of their own. At some point your temple ends up on Katsuki’s shoulder, fingers intertwined. You go to bed with smoke scented hair and the memory of sweet, sticky lips pressed to yours.

Camp counselor! Katsuki writes his number on your palm before on the last day. He keeps in touch throughout the year, and by the time next summer rolls around, you wear the title of his girlfriend in your heart and senior counselor on your name tag.

master list

thank you @grenadehearts who helped me pick which character to write camp counselor headcannons for c:

[kyri45]

A final letter

Hello Everyone!

The queue is paused and everything is scheduled, which means we are ready for the finale!

I know that, in the end, this was just a silly side project for me, with everything else going on in my life. But for this occasion, I wanted to drop some words here and hope they make sense.

I started watching LMK only because a friend told me there was a "Sonadow-coded" ship. I ended up consuming the entire thing in one sitting on July 10th, 2024. At the time, I was still recovering from a bike accident that had left me with a broken right forearm—unable to draw for a little over a month. (I did try drawing with my left finger, but it wasn't exactly fun.)

Not only that, but it was summer, and I couldn’t enjoy the season or practice my main sport, windsurfing. To say I was feeling the blues is an understatement. I remember being in physical pain just from not being able to draw my sillies. But then, watching LMK did something to my brain chemistry that my little undiagnosed autistic self had never experienced before. It hit so hard that I’ve been physically unable to rewatch the show SINCE that very first day. (And y’all still call me the CEO of this fandom. Bro, I just work here.)

A lot of you have asked what inspired me to start this comic or to draw LMK fan art in the first place. While my usual answer is, "I saw Shadowpeach and thought MK could be their lovechild, given his appearance," the moment that actually started it all was THIS ONE—

(I HAD TO REWATCH THIS SCENE TO MAKE THE GIF AND IT HURT ME ON A MOLECOLAR LEVEL)

I have… a thing for characters who discover their entire identity was something else all along. It consumes my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment. I live for identity crises, for characters who thought they knew who they were, only to be forced to rediscover themselves, their existence, and their place in the world. If you give me a story where a character has to go through that, I will like it—regardless of how bad the rest of the story is.

Pair that with loads of trauma, daddy issues, the pressure of a legacy, and world-ending stakes, and congrats! Now I’m obsessed, and I will not stop thinking about it for the rest of my days!

At first, my brain just wanted to release some of that energy with a small, four-panel post about the monkeys discovering that MK was technically their kid.

That was supposed to be it.

But since I never seem to learn my lesson, it didn’t stay like that. Because once I started drawing, I just... continued.

And

I

never

stopped.

A lot of you have also asked how I found the motivation to draw so much, to never take a break. Well, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it one last time: I am my number one fan. No matter how much you laughed, cried, screamed, or went feral over this story, I did all of that and more. Because I got to think about the chapters months before they released. I got to daydream about them. I got to watch them come to life—first through sketches, then line art, then dialogue. And finally, I got to witness your reactions and see the incredible creations you made, inspired by my story.

So yeah, in a way, it was almost an addiction. A good addiction. Because, for the first time in my life, I actually understood what loving art means.

I’ve been drawing for ten years, working professionally for five, but I never loved art before. I just liked it because I happened to be good at it. But creating this comic made me understand why artists say, "Oh, I’ve loved drawing since I was a child!" This was the first time I allowed myself to create purely for my own enjoyment. Something I hadn’t had the privilege to do for a long time.

Other than making me feel even more single than I already was, this story somehow also helped me a little with my own family relationships. So yeah. Crazy how the gay monkeys changed my life.

Of course, I never could have predicted how much traction my AU would gain. Man, y’all were really starving to latch onto something this silly. /j

But yeah—thank you. Thank you for sticking around until the end, for having the patience and trust to follow the story even when I made you rage with angst and cliffhangers. (The statement in my bio still stands: I am not responsible for any physical or emotional damage my art has caused.)

I’m absolutely shit at thanking people, or at writing, or at talking in general, honestly. I’m the furthest thing from being good with words, so I hope the final chapter will be enough to show you my gratitude.

Through this story, I met so many wonderful, talented people. I watched as fans across different platforms found each other through memes and fanart of the AU. I saw artists start their own AUs inspired by mine, growing their own communities. I witnessed an explosion of creativity and collaboration through our takeovers. And I laughed along with you all.

And yeah—at its core, this story has always been about love. Whether it’s platonic, sibling, parental, romantic, or whatever the hell Mac and Wukong had going on for millennia.

At its heart, it’s a story about family.

And maybe, in the end… the real family wasn’t just the one in the comic, but the one we’ve found together along the way. 💛

See you all at the finale.

Love you all, freaks /affectionate

Jade

[wtfaniii]

Req for a Hwang In-ho os with kind off parenting scenarios like what if by mistake a toddler was brought to the games and he ends up in the caretaker roll (and yes he gives off daddy vibes ya know !)

God I loved this one, I feel like him would be great protector.

¿What if...? a little girl entered the games

little girl x Hwang In-ho father figure

Summary: Your eleven-year-old self is taken to an island believing you'll be a little entertainment.

Warning: In-ho may not be that attached to the original character ¡this man will be a big hug bear here!

Note: I do my best to answer the rest of the requests, thanks for your support!! And if I make a mistake I accept constructive criticism!

You lived alone on the street, you didn't know anything about your parents and every day was a struggle until one day you saw a man in a suit playing Ddakji with another person, when you saw that he gave money as a reward if you beat him quickly went to him.

At first he ignored you and walked away with you right behind him but you were so persistent that after walking a few blocks he finally turned to with a raised eyebrow.

You played with him and won every time, received money and a card to continue playing for more money.

You didn't owe anything, he knew that, but he thought he was doing you a favor by opening the doors to the slaughterhouse, maybe it would be better than you continuing to sleep in a box and eat leftover food.

"She's going to die anyway, I'm just making her suffering shorter" thought the salesman.

What he didn't know is that a certain man would take a liking to you as soon as he saw you.

You played "green light, red light" and managed to get through without a scratch, you were scared but Gi-hun made sure to keep you safe during this game.

—¡They are bastards! ¡They brought a little girl for the love of God! —456 screamed to the sky as the ceiling loomed over their heads, the other player 390 covered your eyes so you wouldn't see all the carnage they left behind in the first round.

Meanwhile... The Front Man's firm footsteps echoed through the hallways as he made his way to the control booth, when he arrived, he spoke in a voice that chilled the blood of his employees.

—¿Who let her in?

He knew the salesman, he knew the heartless idiot had no empathy for even a puppy but the fact that these guards had dressed you up and put you in that arena gave him a headache.

When he was given the number of the one who allowed you to get into the first game, he personally took it upon himself to put a bullet in him head.

He thought about getting you out immediately but considering the fact that he would also be infiltrating there and how after that massacre you were playing and talking non-stop with 390 and 456 as if nothing had happened, he let you continue but this time under his personal supervision.

It was quite easy for him to infiltrate and join Gi-hun, keeping his enemy close would be very useful but he also kept his eyes on you.

—Eat this too —In-ho handed you his can of food when he saw how quickly you had finished the rice, sausage and egg.

—No thanks —The smile you gave him almost made his hard heart beat—You should eat too, but if you insist so much you can give me the sausages.

You finished with a smile, to which he returned the gesture and gave you part of his portion.

During the night he took care of covering you with the blanket so that you wouldn't be cold and of laying you in bed next to him in case you had a nightmare, but to his surprise and that of your new friends, you slept all night without interruptions.

When it was time to go to the next game, In-ho kept you by his side so that you would be on his team with Gi-hun.

His team made it to the end so he wasn't worried if they lost, if they did neither you nor he would have died and there would be no witnesses.

He would break just a few of the rules to stay you alive.

Every time some players were eliminated, you covered your ears and closed your eyes tightly, something that moved him so much that he also distracted you by talking to you every time the guards removed the bodies to prevent you from seeing all that show of death and blood.

After the second vote Jung-bae was sorry for choosing the circle so he apologized to you and Jun-hee.

—It's okay, as long as we're together ¡we'll win! —You said with a beaming smile as Young-il ruffled your hair in excitement.

The day seemed long in there, but you didn't get bored with Young-il. He told you some children's stories and played with you.

However, when you were playing with the empty milk carton you accidentally hit the back of player 100.

—Oops, sorry sir —You said politely, reaching out to grab the little box from the floor, but before you could do so, he stepped on it hard, stepping on two of your fingers of the hand in the process.

Your cry of pain caught In-ho's immediate attention, he cut off the conversation he was having with Gi-hun and went to you.

—¡¿How is it possible that you are still alive?! ¡You are just a little brat!

In-ho effortlessly picked you and hug against his chest.

With just one look he silenced the man, it wasn't a warning, it was a threat, that man had hurt you and he would make sure him paid the consequences, not now, but he would definitely suffer.

—I told you not to stray too far from me —He said as he walked back to his place with the others.

You just nodded still with tears in your eyes and hugging him by the neck, he left you on the bed and took your hand to analyze the damage.

—You didn't hurt yourself much, you'll be better after pouring cold water on yourself in the bath —He said trying to calm you down, he dried the tears from your cheeks and kissed your forehead, it was an act he did on impulse and it even surprised himself a little.

"You'll be a great father" Gi-hun told him when you were sleeping, which was strange, the last time he heard that was when his wife talked to him about starting a family, he silently thanked but deep down he felt different, as if you had been able to reach the light inside him, a light he had considered extinct.

During the third game he stayed close to you, every time it was time to team up and run into a room he made sure to hold your hand.

Until the time came to form a team of four, there were many in his group so you and he separated, the counter reached zero and In-ho managed to get you two into a room and close it.

—But we're missing two —You said somewhat nervously and scared while the shots rang out from outside.

—Listen to me —In-ho knelt in front of you and held your shoulders —I need you to keep this a secret,

He gave a quick glance to the camera in the corner, they weren't going to kill them even if they cheated but now he needed no one else to find out about this.

—But it's cheating... —You murmured, confused and still a little scared.

—Promise me you won't say anything about this, not to Gi-hun or the others.

You nodded silently, you didn't say anything and that, without knowing it, would cost the lives of some of your friends.

That same night, there was a rebellion organized by 456.

You wanted to go with them, believing yourself strong enough to help them, but Young-il opposed it.

—I'm not going to let you come with us—He said firmly as he took you by the hand and led you back to the rest of the players —It's dangerous, you will stay with them until we return.

He left you in the hands of 149, 222 and 007, the older woman was the one who had the most empathy for you so In-ho knew you would be fine until his guards came for you.

[...]

After returning to his place as Front man, he sent a group of guards to control the rest of the players in the room and get you out of there.

"Player 398, you must come with us" when you heard that and saw the guards coming towards you, you hugged 149, you were scared, after all you were a girl and didn't know what was happening.

Geum-ja also held you tightly to prevent you from being taken away but it was useless, In-ho was surprised by how you won the affection of her, Jun-hee, Hyun-ju and Myung-gi to the point that they were able to stand up to his soldiers.

As were led through the colorful hallways you bit the hand of one of the pink guards and kicked the other to escape, you had spent entire short life on the streets so escaping was one of your skills, the first thing you did was call some of your friends, including Young-il.

But there came a time when you started to cry, believing that they were dead and you sat on the ground, you remained there scared and worried until once again two guards found you, this time accompanied by a man dressed in grey and a black mask.

When you looked up, he could see your watery eyes and red nose, which made his affection for you grow and not caring about his own rules about secret identity, he took off his mask and crouched down to be at your level.

He didn't know what to say to you, how to handle this situation in which you were so confused and overwhelmed, so when you hugged him he just returned the gesture and got up from the floor with you.

—It's okay, you're going to be fine —He whispered to you calmly while caressing your hair.

In-ho didn't know anything about being a father, he hadn't thought about being one since his wife died but he would do everything possible to take care of you from now on, for a few seconds he thought about sending you with Jun-ho and his mother but he preferred not to, besides, you didn't want to leave him alone for even a second.

He would teach you how to use weapons and defend yourself, he would also try to get you to accompany him everywhere or remain under surveillance, you quickly became a weakness so the safer you are the safer he will be too.

He didn't explain everything to you in detail, much less what role he had in these games, he believed that you wouldn't forgive him so the less you know the better for you, but you weren't stupid, the life you had before meeting him made you analyze things better than many others.

You knew that whatever his job was, it wasn't good but you didn't judge him or talk to him.

To you, he was like your father and that would make you defend him tooth and nail from anyone who wanted to hurt him.

In case Gi-hun ends the games, Jun-ho would probably take responsibility for you and let you visit In-ho in prison, (when you're older, you'll probably help him escape and move to another continent).

But if not, you will probably be given the front man position when you grow up because you are trained enough by this man, you will be calculating and probably a younger, female version of him.

N/A: Ok, I hope this is what you expected and thanks for this idea!

I honestly think In-ho wouldn't canonically take responsibility for a child, maybe he would protect sometimes like 222, but I don't think he would care afterwards, that man is beyond help 😭

[grimmsbride]

▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛ SOME ENCOURAGEMENT. NAM-GYU / PLAYER 124

nam-gyu attempts to recruit beloved, timid reader into thanos’s world. all it takes is a little encouragement.

𖥔 ࣪˖ TAGS, nam-gyu is a little pushy (but everything is consensual between him and reader) | unconsensual voyuerism (again everyone is asleep but i don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable) | ooc characters (first time writing for nam-gyu) | minor degradation & praise (+humiliation(?)) | use of the words slut, good girl, etc. | fingering | minor dacryphilia | just a silly little imagine | nam-gyu is lowkey manipulative | reader is a freak with a thing for fingers/hands | etc.

𖥔 ࣪˖ NOTES, writing smut on company time is actually hilarious, idk why i got this idea during work. but anywho — i hope you enjoy, i tried my hand at his character. as always please ignore any grammar mistakes or typos.

Imagine Nam-Gyu attempting to recruit someone without the advice of his beloved purple-haired leader. Surprising, right? Despite his own issues with inferiority; the ex-club worker just seems to follow behind Thanos like a hungry puppy desperate for a bone— or drugs, for that matter. But no, just this once, Nam-Gyu takes the lead. The numbers are growing closer and even more scarce, fear lacing people’s minds and causing them to hit that dreaded X button. Thanos’s World’s dream is to continue the games to pay off their debts, right?— so it only made sense for Nam-Gyu to turn an X over to the O side.

He couldn’t just pick anyone. Someone far too strong-willed would definitely tell him no, and someone far too weak would just be a curse rather than a blessing.

Who to choose.. Who to choose..

Soon enough the man’s eyes are locking on to you— a contestant he has seen around, yet hasn’t heard much from. Not only were you easy on the eyes but you just seemed like the perfect person to shape into a worthy teammate.

Within minutes he’s approaching you, an easy-going smile in place as your name falls from his lips. Nam-Gyu had heard it said before by someone close to you, another random that he hadn’t bother to think about.

“Yes..?” Your words are slow, lips pursing as you take in the man before you. You were beyond nervous; this was the lackey of that purple-haired lunatic after all. Watching the two fight on the very first day was enough to tell you to avoid them at all costs. Yet here you were, a few feet away from one of them, under his gaze that trailed over you like a pretty piece of jewelry behind a display case.

You couldn’t help but bring your hands closer to yourself, teeth dragging across your cheek nervously.

From your head to your toes, Nam-Gyu’s eyes soon landed on that big red patch residing just under your bosom. With a breathy chuckle he reached over, allowing a single finger to press and trace the X.

“You wanna get out of the games that bad, huh? You voted X twice already.”

Your eyes flicked down to his hand, before traveling back to his face. “Yeah well..” You dragged slowly, watching that harsh gaze return to your features.

“I—I want to get rid of my debts.. but putting my life on the line for it just seems..” You hoped you got your words across perfectly, even without continuing your sentence. Sure, it was hard being hounded for your debts, but death looming over your head just didn’t seem worth it.

Still, Nam-Gyu only shook his head at you, a sigh full of pity escaping his lips.

“Well, that’s where you’re messing up.” Nam-Gyu hummed, stepping just a bit closer, finger still tracing that damned patch. Your attention kept flicking between his face and finger, wondering why exactly warmth was pooling throughout your entire body.

“Worrying too much about dying is what’s gonna get you killed, not anything else.”

Your eyebrows knitted close, a look of confusion plastered across your face. Worrying seemed like the right way to keep yourself alive.. right? Not worrying just seemed, well— stupid. Not that you would say that to his face, obviously.

“I have to disagree..”

Just barely did you hear the sound of the man sucking his teeth, watching the way his face turned to the side, clearly searching for his next few words. You debated on walking away from this conversation, it was clear what his objective was. And whether ordered by Thanos or not, you didn’t really want to know— nor figure out.

Yet for some reason you were practically glued to the spot, blinking up at him and waiting oh, so patiently for his next spiel. And as you watched his face turn back to you, your breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay then.. worry all you want, but you wouldn’t you want someone to look out for you?” Nam-Gyu’s other hand was reaching to your patch at this point, using both thumbs to trace it. “Being on this side, there’s no unity.. it’s every person for themself.”

The two of you locked eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile crossing his face.

“Come with us, and we’ll look after you. I’ll personally see to it too.”

Slowly did your teeth sink into your bottom lip, struggling to maintain the eye contact that he seemed so keen on keeping. The only thing you could hear was your racing heart and the gentle sounds of his thumbs sliding across that red patch. His words were.. tempting. You wondered if he rehearsed what to say, like a video game with multiple endings; did he have it all figured out before he even walked over? Was he so prepared to convert you, using every rejection you had as some silly obstacles the man easily hobbled over?

So caught up in your thoughts, you hardly realized Nam-Gyu had gotten even closer until his breath fanned across your ear in a simple;

I’ll let you think it over, let’s talk again later..

When you thought of later, you initially believed in thirty mins or so. Maybe this time he would bring over his beloved leader to really get the point across. But no, later seemed to be during lights out; when you all should be sleeping, tucked away in the rare bliss these murderous games brought.

And the only talking that was happening was the soft words Nam-Gyu continued to whisper into your ear and the even softer moans of passion that slipped from your swollen lips.

See, Nam-Gyu wasn’t an idiot despite what Thanos seems to think. Quickly he caught on to two things whilst speaking to you.

The first being, you were quite cute when nervous. And two, you just loved looking at his hands.

So what better way to really stretch his point across but using his beloved fingers to stretch you open just how he liked?

“Should have done this from the start, look how cooperative you’re being..” The smile on Nam-Gyu’s face was permanent at this point, the corner of his mouth twitching with each pitiful moan you released. His rings were tossed lazily to the side, his bare fingers now pushing into your sloppy cunt so perfectly. Longer then your own, they pushed and prodded; opening you up and rubbing against your soaked walls. With each breath you were clenching, causing the smile on his face to only grow deeper.

“Scared of dying but not of some stranger finger-fucking you, huh? What a joke.”

You wanted to tell him off, how he was so mean and so wrong. But you couldn’t, not with how your mind was getting complete lost from his movements. Your teeth were grinding into your bottom lip, a metallic taste filling your mouth as time progressed. Deep moans thundered from your throat, muffled by your harsh biting. You couldn’t imagine having your little recruitment interrupted by some poor contestant just trying to get some rest.

But with the way Nam-Gyu was practically ruining you, it didn’t seem he cared much either way. He was so hellbent on coaxing you, his lips right against your ear as that damned thumb came and circled your swollen bud.

“I told you I’d look after you right, where’s my thank you?”

Your eyes widened the moment his free hand rose, pushing at your cheeks and basically forcing your lips to part. The sound you let out was a strangled mix of a moan and gasp, quickly clasping your own hand against your mouth.

Nam-Gyu chuckled on his breath, thrusting a third finger into your wet cunt as he spoke; “What? You scared of the other contestants realizing how much of a slut you are? Shouldn’t worry too much; this messy cunt is making enough noise for you.”

Your eyes were meeting the back of your skull, so fucking mean he was— yet you couldn’t help but enjoy the attention. His digits were curling inside, brushing across that special spot that caused you to shake. Your thighs were clenching harshly around his arm, rushed breaths escaping as your chest rose and fell.

“Th—thank you.. fuck— please…!” You whimpered as softly as you possibly could, glossy eyes staring up at the man. You felt accomplished the moment he drew closer, feeling the cold metal of his chain brush against your heated skin before a gentle kiss was pressed right against your cheek.

“What a good girl.. You wanna come, hm?” The hand was lowering to your throat, fingers simply wrapping around it yet not squeezing. Nam-Gyu watched in pure enjoyment at the way your head tossed back and forth in a rushed nod; how needy you were for him. What a palpable little thing, is what he thought.

“I can make that happen, you just gotta do something for me.”

More words, whispered, tempting; drifting right into your ear and hitting the same pleasurable spots right between your legs. Speaking of, you felt your peak drawing closer; a tight band resting deep in your tummy— ready to burst.

You knew what he wanted, you weren’t an idiot nor were you too fucked out to forget. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you an orgasm wasn’t worth pressing that cursed button.

Yet, for now, you weren’t thinking with your brain, but with your pussy instead.

“P—please let me join! I’ll press the button— I promise!” Another whisper-yell escaped you, desperation clinging to every word as they fled those pretty lips.

With that final confirmation Nam-Gyu was quickening the pace of his fingers, eating up the way your body convulsed, a lost look invading your eyes as you came undone. Your essence trickled down his fingers all the way to his wrist, a sticky residue that he would make sure you clean up later.

For now.. his hand rose from your throat to instead cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb right under your eye so tenderly— so sweetly.

“I knew you could do it.. just needed some encouragement, right?”

[requiemforthepoets]

the story we won’t tell is my greatest fantasy ⟢ LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: seven years. you and lando had been together for seven years, but it all went down the drain the moment he decided to come clean about the mistake that he did.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, breakup, cheating, cheater lando, pregnancy, secret child, mentions of nausea and vomiting, fainting, angst, open ending, math is not mathing (but i tried), some inaccuracies, named side characters (except for the reader), single!mom reader, and minor typographical errors

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic is inspired by niki’s song ‘apartment we won’t share,’ ik that we have diff interpretations for the songs, but i interpret it as the way how i wrote this fic. i’m not planning on doing a second part of this, and just leave it an open ending. but if someday i get inspired, i’ll try and make a part 2 for this, though for now, there will be no part 2 for this fic. i will be leaving the ending all up to you. you comments/reblogs is highly appreciated, and i hope that you’ll enjoy this one.

main masterlist | fic playlist

It had been a long and exhausting week. The lingering ache from your family emergency still tugged at your heart, so to keep off your mind from things, you had spent most of the day sorting through Lando’s things, folding clothes and making sure his suitcase was ready for his flight to another race weekend. It was the kind of task you had done so many times in the last seven years, but this time, it felt heavier, like there was something wrong that you couldn’t quite place.

When Lando returned to Monaco a few days later, you expected him to be his usual vibrant self, but something was off with him. Lando’s eyes seemed heavier, his posture slouched, and smile lacked the spark that you were used to.

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” he asked, voice unusually subdued.

You set down the shirt you had been folding, brows furrowing. “Sure, of course,” you replied, taking a seat on the couch. “What’s on your mind?”

Lando hesitated, hands fidgeting with the edge of his hoodie. He sat across from you, knees bouncing slightly as he stared at the floor. “You know I love you, right? More than anything.”

A faint smile crossed your lips. “I know, Lan, and you made sure to let me know everyday for seven years.”

He looked up briefly, gaze fleeting before dropping back to the floor. “I need to tell you something, I wanted to be completely honest with you…and it’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Lando’s tone, demeanor—it was all wrong, and you were getting really nervous by now. “What is it?” you asked, voice quiet, wary.

Lando took a deep breath, his hands now gripping his knees as if to ground himself. “When I was out for a night with the guys a month ago…I messed up.”

Your stomach churned. You didn’t want to interrupt him, waiting for Lando to continue, though every fiber of your being wanted to scream at him, to demand some answers.

“There was…someone at the club that night,” he said, words slow and measured, like he was forcing them out of him. “It was stupid, an honest mistake. I was so drunk, caught up in everything, and I wasn’t thinking.”

You felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. “W-What are you saying?” you managed, voice barely above a whisper.

Lando finally looked at you, eyes glistening. “I accidentally slept with her. It was a one-time thing, I swear, then she called me last week—I don’t even know how she got my number, but she told me that she’s pregnant.

Pregnant.

The words hit you like a freight train. You stared at him, mind completely blank, unable to process what he had just said. Tears began to blur your vision, but you didn’t wipe them away.

“Lando…” you tried to speak up, but your voice cracked.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said, voice shaking. “I didn’t know what to do. All I could think about was how much I’ve hurt you. But I can’t let my kid grow up without a family. I know how much family means to you, to me. I have to be there for them.”

Your heart shattered into pieces. You could see how much Lando was struggling, the guilt etched into every line of his face. But the pain of his betrayal was unbearable.

“I don’t…I don’t have anything to say anymore, honestly,” you said finally, voice trembling. “Because you had already made your decision—you’re choosing them.”

Lando shook his head vehemently. “No! No, I’m not choosing anyone over you. You’re the love of my life. That hasn’t changed and never will.”

“Lando, you can’t have both,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t stay here knowing all of these. I can’t be a part of this.”

He reached out as if to touch you, but you recoiled. You couldn’t bear his touch right now. “Please love,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I love you. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“You already have,” you said softly, standing up and wiping your tears. “I won’t hold you back, Lando. You need to do what’s right for your child. They deserve a family, and I will not be the reason why they don’t have one.”

You walked to your shared bedroom, your movements mechanical as you began packing your things. Every item you placed in your suitcase felt like a dagger to your chest. This apartment had been your home, your safe haven, and now it was just a place you needed to escape from. Lando just stood in the doorway, watching you pack all of your things, his face pale and tear-streaked. He didn’t try to stop you—he knew that he couldn’t.

When you zipped up your suitcase and grabbed your bag, you turned to him one last time. “Take care of both of them,” you said, voice barely audible. “Be the father they need.

With that, you walked out of the apartment, out of the life you and Lando had built together. You had loved him for seven years, trusted him with every piece of your heart. But now, all you had was the emptiness of what could have been.

The crisp night air bit at your skin as you stood by the entrance of the apartment building, clutching the handle of your suitcase. Your ride to the airport was just a few minutes away, but the wait felt eternal. You stared blankly at the sidewalk, mind is a chaotic mess, the weight of everything that had happened tonight pressing heavily on your chest.

You heard familiar voices approaching before you saw them, their cheerful tones instantly recognizable. Quickly, you wiped at your cheeks, hoping your red-rimmed eyes wouldn’t give you away. Plastering on a smile, you turned towards Max and Kelly as they walked towards the entrance, hand in hand, their expressions bright despite the late hour.

“Hey! What are you doing out here so late?” Kelly asked, brows knitting in concern as she noticed the two large suitcases beside you.

You hesitated, forcing your smile to stay in place. “I, uh, have a family emergency,” you lied smoothly, voice steady even though your heart was pounding. “I need to head back home for a bit.”

Max tilted his head slightly, sharp blue eyes scanning you with the protective gaze you had come to know so well over the years. “Two large suitcases for just a quick trip? That seems a bit much,” he remarked lightly, though his tone carried a hint of suspicion.

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “It’s just…really complicated right now. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, so I packed extra, just in case.”

Kelly’s hand tightened on Max’s arm as she stepped closer to you, her concern evident. “Is Lando not home right now? Why didn’t you tell us earlier? We could’ve helped you pack, we can drive you to the airport.”

You shook your head quickly. “Lan’s already sleeping and I hate to wake him up, he just recently got back from his trip. I also didn’t want to bother you, I’ve already called a car, and it should be here any minute.”

They exchanged a look, clearly unconvinced but respectful enough not to press you further. “Well, we’re not leaving you out here alone,” Max said firmly. “We’ll wait with you until your ride gets here.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the determined set of his jaw told you it would all be just pointless. Instead, you nodded, grateful for their presence even as it made it harder to hold yourself together.

Kelly gave you a warm smile, trying to ease the tension. “It’s late, but P was asking about you earlier,” she said softly. “She’s been begging to have another day with her favorite Auntie.”

Your heart clenched at the mention of Penelope, and you forced your smile to widen. “I’ll miss her so much,” you said, voice thick despite your best efforts. “Tell her I’ll see her soon.”

Kelly’s brow furrowed slightly at your words, but before she could say anything, your ride had pulled up to the curb. Relief and dread washed over you in equal measure. Max then stepped forward immediately, grabbing your suitcases with ease.

“I’ll load these up for you,” he said, tone gruff but kind.

“Thank you,” you murmured, watching as he placed your suitcases in the trunk of the car.

When Max turned back, Kelly pulled you into a tight hug, her familiar perfume bringing a rush of bittersweet comfort. “Take care of yourself, okay?” she whispered. “Whatever’s going on, we’re here for you.”

You nodded against her shoulder, your throat too tight to respond. When she pulled away, Max had stepped forward, wrapping you in a hug that was strong and protective, just like he always was.

“Be back soon, okay? P will be missing her favorite Aunt.” he said, chuckling. “If you need anything, you call me or Kelly. No excuses.”

“I will,” you promised, though you knew that you wouldn’t.

As you stepped back, Kelly offered you a gentle smile. “When you get back, P will be so excited to see you again. You know how much she loves spending time with you.”

The lump in your throat grew, and you could only nod in response. You managed a faint smile as you climbed into the car, giving them one final wave.

“Safe travels,” Kelly called out as Max closed the door for you.

You watched them through the window, standing together on the curb, their figures illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. They waved as the car pulled away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wave back again. Instead, you turned your gaze forward, the city lights blurring through the tears that silently slid down your cheeks.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

When you finally arrived back home, the weight of the long hour of flight clung to you like a heavy fog. You dragged your suitcases through the familiar front door, exhaustion etched into every inch of your body. The warm, welcoming scent of your childhood home did little to comfort you, instead, it only amplified the ache in your chest. All you wanted was to collapse into your bed and wake up to a world where none of this had ever happened—a world where your heart wasn’t shattered into pieces. But this was your reality, as cruel as it was.

You definitely hadn’t anticipated seeing your older sister, Noelle, and her husband, Mike, in the living room, seated across from your mother, their laughter filling the space. The sound abruptly stopped when they noticed you standing in the doorway, your pale face and tired eyes a huge giveaway of the turmoil you tried so desperately to hide.

“What are you doing here?” Noelle asked, rising from her seatc brows knitting together in concern. “You didn’t tell us that you were coming home.”

Noelle’s brows knit together as she took in your disheveled appearance, her sharp eyes catching every detail—dark circles under your eyes, stiffness in your movements, and the forced smile you mustered.

“Yeah,” you replied quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I, uh, needed to come home for a bit.”

Your mother rose from her seat as well, concern etched into her features. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, gaze darting between you and the suitcases you had left by the door.

You hesitated, throat tightening. You had been dreading this moment, knowing full well how much your family adored Lando so much. They had welcomed him with open arms from the start, treating him as one of their own. Now, you were about to break their hearts almost as much as he had broken yours.

“It’s nothing,” you said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I just needed a change of scenery, that’s all.”

Noelle stood, arms crossed as she gave you a pointed look. “Don’t give me that kind of excuse. You don’t just show up unannounced looking like this for no reason. What really happened?”

You swallowed hard, avoiding Noelle’s gaze. “Lando and I broke up,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The whole room fell silent, the weight of your words sinking in. Your mother’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. “Oh, my darling sweetheart,” she breathed.

Noelle, however, was not so subdued. “What?” she exclaimed, voice rising. “What do you mean you broke up? What happened? Did he do something stupid?”

“No!” you said quickly, shaking your head. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” she pressed, tone sharp.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed. “We just…fell out of love. The both of us,” you said, hating the words even as you said then. “We’ve been together for so long, and I guess we just realized that we weren’t the same people years ago anymore. It didn’t make sense to keep on pretending, we’ll just end up hurting ourselves in the long run.”

Noelle’s eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced. “That doesn’t sound like Lando at all. The man adores you so much, even worships the ground you walk on.”

“He did,” you said softly, chest tightening. “And I adored him too. But people change, feelings change.”

Your mother stepped closer, her hands reaching for yours. “Are you sure this is what you wanted?” she asked gently.

You nodded, the lump in your throat growing. “It’s for the best,” you lied, voice cracking slightly.

Mike, who had been silent until now, placed a hand on Noelle’s shoulder. “If this is what she’s decided, we should respect it,” he said quietly, giving you a small, understanding nod.

Noelle just sighed, clearly torn between pressing you for further information and letting it go. Finally, she relented, though her expression was still skeptical.

“I just don’t want you to regret this,” she said, voice more softer now. “You two were so good together.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep you from breaking down. “I’ll be okay, eventually,” you said, words hollow.

Your mother pulled you into a tight embrace, her warmth briefly soothing the ache in your chest. “Whatever happens, we’re always here for you,” she murmured.

“Thanks, mommy,” you whispered, blinking back tears.

As you pulled away, your sister gave you a long look, her expression unreadable. “If he hurt you—” she started, but you cut her off.

“He didn’t,” you said firmly, voice steady despite the storm inside you. “It just didn’t work out. That’s all.”

Noelle still didn’t look convinced, but she nodded, clearly sensing that there’s more to it, and you didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Alright,” she said quietly. “But if you ever want to talk, I’m here, okay? We’re all here.”

You gave her a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes like it used to. “Thank you,” you said, words barely audible.

Excusing yourself, you retreated to your old bedroom, closing the door behind you gently and sinking onto the comfort of your bed. The familiar surroundings brought no comfort, only a stark reminder of the life you had left behind. While you lay down, staring at the ceiling, the tears finally came, silent and unrelenting.

You had still protected Lando from your family’s anger, even though he did not deserve any of it, and now, you were left to pick up the pieces alone.

The Nausea hits you like clockwork every morning. You found yourself rushing to the bathroom, stomach twisting in protest against seemingly nothing. It had started a few weeks ago, and though you had initially dismissed it as a lingering flu or perhaps the stress with work finally catching up to you, it was becoming harder to ignore. Rest didn’t seem to help you, but you assured yourself that it wasn’t that serious. Besides, you have work to focus on, and that was enough to keep your mind occupied, most of the time.

Two months had already passed since you had left Monaco for good, and life had begun to settle into a new rhythm. Yes, the ache in your chest was still there, but it had been dulled into something manageable. You were slowly rebuilding yourself, piece by piece, though the nausea was an unwelcome distraction.

It was a normal afternoon, while you were curled up on the beanbag chair in your bedroom after a long and tiring day, your phone buzzed. The caller ID that was displayed on the screen made your breath catch for a moment—Kelly. You hesitated before answering, already bracing yourself for the conversation. Her face appeared on the screen, bright and concerned.

“Finally, I caught you!” she said with a smile, though her tone was tinged with worry. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

You shook your head, chuckling and offered her a small smile. “I’m so sorry, Kelly. Things have been so busy with me lately.”

Kelly’s brow furrowed slightly as she studied your face. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s just a silly flu,” you said quickly, but the faint edge in your voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said gently. “Max and I found out about it already, about you and Lando.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “Oh.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked, expression softening. “We would’ve been there for you. You’ve been through this all alone.”

You sighed, your shoulders sagging. “I didn’t want to drag anyone else into the mess, and I didn’t even know what to say.”

Kelly’s voice grew firmer. “You didn’t have to say anything, we would’ve understood. Max is furious with Lando, you know. So is Carlos. I even have to break the two of them away from Lando.”

Your heart sank at the thought. “Please don’t be mad at him. It’s not worth it.”

Kelly shook her head, lips pressing into a thin line. “It is worth it. What Lando did to you was unforgivable. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured, though the words felt hollow. “I’ll move on, eventually.”

Kelly’s expression softened again, and she leaned closer to the camera. “I just wish you’d let us help you. You know we love you, right? You’ve always been family to us.”

“I know,” you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes.

Her face brightened slightly. “But speaking of family, someone’s been dying to talk to you!”

Before you could respond, the screen shifted, and Penelope’s little face appeared, her eyes lighting up when she saw you. “AUNTIE!” she exclaimed, voice high with excitement.

”Hi, P!” You said, heart aching at the sight of her.

“I miss you so much!” she said, pouting slightly. “When are you coming back? Mommy says you’re not in Monaco anymore.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain. “I miss you too, darling. I just…I had to be somewhere else for a while.”

“But you’ll come back, right?” she asked, her big eyes staring at you expectantly.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “We’ll see, P. For now, you have to be good for your mommy and Maxie, okay?”

“I’m always good!” she declared, puffing out her chest.

Kelly’s voice chimed in from the background. “That’s debatable,” she teased, earning a giggle from Penelope.

You couldn’t help but smile, even as your chest tightened. “You’re the best, P. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay!” she said brightly before turning to Kelly. “Mommy, can we call Auntie again tomorrow?”

Kelly returned to the screen, giving you a knowing look. “We’ll let her rest for now, P. But yes, we’ll call Auntie again soon.”

“Promise?” Penelope asked, her eyes wide.

“Promise,” Kelly said, smiling before turning back to you. “Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need anything, anything, just call me.”

You nodded. “Thank you so much, Kelly. I will.”

After ending your facetime call with Kelly, you stumbled into the bathroom, your stomach churning violently. The moment you stepped inside, you collapsed in front of the toilet, heaving uncontrollably. It felt as though your insides were twisting, every muscle tensing in protest. When it finally subsided, you shakily wiped your mouth, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You looked pale—paler than usual, and eyes were bloodshot from the strain.

It took you a couple of minutes to compose yourself before heading to the kitchen, hoping the water would help settle your spinning head. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, you poured the water, but as you lifted it to your lips, another wave of dizziness hit you. This time, it was stronger. Your grip faltered, and the glass slipped from your hand, shattering loudly as it hit the floor.

The sharp noise brought Noelle and Mike running into the kitchen. They froze when they saw you swaying on your feet, barely managing to stay upright. You blinked, trying to focus, but everything around you was growing hazier. Before you could say anything, your legs gave way beneath you, and you crumpled to the floor, your vision blackening as you began to lose consciousness. Noelle was by your side in an instant, her hands gentle but urgent as she checked your pulse.

“Don’t worry, she’s alive,” Noelle muttered, voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. “Mike, call an ambulance now!”

Mike didn’t hesitate, rushing to grab his phone and calling for help. You could hear Mike’s voice in the background, muffled and frantic as he spoke to the operator.

“Yes, we need an ambulance,” Mike said, tone clipped, almost too calm for the situation. “My sister-in-law collapsed, and we need help immediately.”

Noelle’s voice cut through your haze, trying to keep you steady. “Come on, stay with me, okay? Just hold on.”

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t even make a sound, but you could hear them both, voices blending with the rush of adrenaline in the air. Mike’s footsteps moved swiftly, his voice growing more distant as he spoke with the ambulance on the phone.

The minutes that followed felt like hours. The sound of the ambulance siren grew louder, and relief flooded Noelle’s face as the paramedics rushed into the house. They quickly assessed the situation, asking Noelle questions about your symptoms and recent health conditions.

“She’s been experiencing dizziness for weeks now,” Noelle explained. “She’s stubborn, didn’t want to see a doctor. This morning she was nauseous, and now she’s fainted.”

The paramedics nodded, lifting you onto the stretcher carefully. Noelle and Mike followed closely as they carried you out to the ambulance. “I’m coming with her to the hospital,” Noelle said firmly, climbing into the back of the ambulance without hesitation.

Mike stayed behind, watching the ambulance doors close with a worried expression. “Alright, I’ll be informing your mother when she arrives, but call me as soon as you know something,” he said to Noelle before they drove off.

Inside the ambulance, Noelle held your hand tightly, her fingers trembling against your own. “You’re going to be fine,” she said, though her voice was thick with concern. “Just breathe, okay? We’re almost there.”

You couldn’t focus on what Noelle was saying. The world had gone dark around you, only the pulse of your own heartbeat reminding you that you were still there, still fighting to stay conscious.

The steady beeping of the machines was the first thing you registered as you slowly opened your eyes, the sterile smell of the hospital room making everything feel surreal. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent light, your gaze landed on your sister, Noelle, sitting in one of the chairs beside your bed, her expression a mixture of worry and relief when she noticed you stirring.

“Noelle,” you croaked, voice hoarse from sleep and dryness.

She shot up almost instantly, coming to your side and helping you adjust into a sitting position in the hospital bed. Her hands were gentle but firm as she propped a pillow behind your back.

“Hey, take it easy, okay?” she said softly. She reached for a bottle of water on the bedside table, unscrewing the cap before handing it to you. “Here, drink up. Small sips.”

You followed her instructions, taking slow, careful sips, the cool water soothing your parched throat. “What happened? Why am I in the hospital?” you asked weakly, mind still foggy.

“You fainted in the kitchen,” Noelle explained, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You scared the hell out of us. Mike called the ambulance, and I came with you here. Mom and Mike are both on their way. They’ll be here soon.”

Before you could respond, there was a knock at the door, a doctor entered, her expression professional but kind. Noelle immediately stepped aside, letting her approach you.

“I’m glad that you’re awake now, my dear,” she began, smiling at you. “We’ve run some tests to determine the cause of your fainting and other symptoms.”

You nodded slowly, stomach churning with apprehension. Noelle moved closer to your side, her presence grounding you.

“We’ve reviewed your results,” she continued, glancing at her clipboard before meeting your eyes. “The dizziness, nausea, and vomiting you’ve been experiencing for the past weeks are all consistent with early pregnancy symptoms. Congratulations, you’re seven weeks pregnant!”

Pregnant. Pregnant.

For a moment, the words did not register. The hospital room seemed to grow impossibly still, the doctor’s voice fading into the background as you processed the news. Seven weeks. The timeline clicked into place, and your heart sank as realization hit. Seven weeks pregnant. You could hear the faint ringing in your ears, a sharp contrast to the quiet gasp from Noelle beside you.

“I…I’m sorry, what?” you managed to stammer, voice shaking.

“You’re pregnant, dear,” the doctor repeated gently. “Seven weeks along. Your vitals look good, but it’s important to start prenatal care as soon as possible. We’ve referred you to an OB-GYN who will guide you through the process and answer any questions you might have.”

You nodded numbly, unable to form any coherent response. The doctor continued to explain what you should expect in the coming weeks—dietary recommendations, plenty of rest, and the importance of regular check-ups. But her words felt very distant, as if you were hearing them through a fog.

When the doctor finally left, you were left staring blankly at the sterile white wall, the weight of the revelation crushing you. Seven weeks. You did the math in your head, mind racing. By now, you know that the woman Lando had gotten pregnant would be around three months into pregnancy.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, the enormity of the situation was starting to overwhelm you. You were carrying Lando’s child. That man had broken and shattered your heart into pieces, and who had chosen someone else, was now bound to you in a way that you could not escape.

“Noelle,” you whispered, voice breaking.

She knelt beside the bed, taking your trembling hands in hers. “I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m here, okay?” she said softly, her tone steady and reassuring.

“I don’t know what to do,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. How am I supposed to handle this?”

Noelle’s grip on your hands tightened slightly, eyes full of concern. “I don’t have all the answers,” she admitted, “but you don’t have to go through this alone. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be here for you—Mom and Mike, too. We’ll all figure this out together, okay?”

Two years had already passed, and your life was a world away from where it had been. Astrid, your little ray of sunshine, was turning two today. She was the center of your universe, your whole life, her giggles filling every corner of the house you had worked so hard to call your own. It was a beautiful home, just three doors away from your mother’s home, ensuring that Astrid was always surrounded by the love and warmth of your family.

Noelle and Mike, ever the doting aunt and uncle, spoiled her endlessly. They brought over toys, books, and clothes—sometimes more than you thought Astrid needed, but you couldn’t deny the happiness on Astrid’s face when they arrived with surprise in hand.

It’s true that your pregnancy and the early days of motherhood had not been easy, but you were able to survive. More than that, you thrived. With a promotion to a top position at work and a comfortable life for you and Astrid, you finally felt at peace. The past—Lando, was no longer a wound, but now a distant memory you had learned to accept. Your family also had long stopped asking questions about the details of your breakup, and while they knew Lando was Astrid’s father, they never dwelled on it. Astrid had all the love she needed, and that was what mattered most.

But there was one part of your life you had not reconciled yet—Max and Kelly. Despite keeping in touch with Kelly through regular facetime calls, you had managed to keep Astrid a secret. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, it was just too complicated to explain everything. It was already enough that they found out what Lando had done that caused your breakup.

However, when Kelly had mentioned that they would be spending their vacation in your home country and would be arriving the day before Astrid’s second birthday, you had a window of opportunity. It was time to take a step forward. So you had invited them to what you described as a simple gathering at your home. You didn’t explicitly tell them that it would be Astrid’s birthday party—just that it would be a chance to catch up and spend time together.

As the day drew closer, you found yourself torn between excitement and anxiety. What would they say when they realized the gathering that you had talked about was actually a celebration for your daughter? Would they feel hurt that you had kept Astrid a secret for so long?

These thoughts lingered as you finalized the decorations, baked Astrid’s favorite cake, and prepared the house for your guests. But when you looked at Astrid, happily playing with her toys in the living room, the doubt began to fade. This was your life now—a life filled with love and laughter, even if it was different from what you had once imagined.

The backyard was a colorful dream, adorned with streamers, balloons, and a banner that read, Happy 2nd Birthday! and Astrid’s favorite colors painted every corner of the space, and the laughter of children filled the air as they played games and ran around laughing. Astrid herself was the picture of happiness, twirling in her pretty dress, a bright smile on her face as she clung to her grandmother’s hand.

You excused yourself from the backyard, your hands brushing against your dress nervously as you stepped back into the kitchen to double-check the desserts. Rows of cupcakes sat neatly on the counter, each one topped with swirls of frosting and sprinkles. You picked one up, turning it slightly to make sure everything was perfect. Then the doorbell rang.

Your heart skipped a beat, a wave of nerves rushing through you. It had to be Max, Kelly, and Penelope. You wiped your hands on a towel, took a deep breath, and walked to the front door, steadying yourself before opening it. The moment you opened the door, cheerful shouts of ‘surprise!’ had greeted you. Kelly was the first to throw her arms around you, pulling you into a warm hug.

“It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, stepping back as Max swooped in for a hug.

“You’ve been hiding!” Max teased lightly, squeezing your shoulder before stepping aside to let Penelope in.

“Hi Auntie!” Penelope chirped, small arms wrapping tightly around your waist as she hugged you with all her might.

You bent down to her level, pulling her into a proper hug. “Hi, darling. I missed you so much!”

Penelope pulled back, her face beaming. “I missed you too, Auntie! Can I see your house?”

Before you could respond, the sound of children’s laughter drifted in from the backyard, catching their attention. Kelly tilted her head curiously.

“What’s going on back there?” she asked, brows furrowed. “That sounds like a lot of kids.”

Max glanced at you, an eyebrow raised. “Is this the simple gathering you mentioned?”

A nervous smile tugged at your lips as you stepped back, gesturing for them to follow. “Come on, follow me.”

You led them through the hallway and out through the glass doors that lead to the backyard, where the yard was buzzing with activity. Children were playing games, some of them are having the time of their life on the bouncy castle, parents chatted near the tables of food, and Astrid was in the middle of it all, her laughter carrying above the noise.

Penelope gasped in delight. “Can I please go play?” she asked, bouncing on her toes as she looked up at Max and Kelly.

Kelly nodded with a smile. “Of course, go ahead.”

Penelope dashed off, her excitement blending seamlessly with the other children. Kelly and Max, however, stood frozen, their eyes scanning the scene. It wasn’t long before they realized that this was not just any gathering.

“Is this…” Kelly began, voice trailing off.

“A birthday party?” Max finished for her, tone laced with confusion.

You nodded slowly, your smile nervous. “Yes. Actually,” you glanced at Astrid, who was now in your mother’s arms, laughing as your mother tickled her sides. “It’s her birthday party.”

Their confusion deepened as they followed your gaze. Max opened his mouth to speak, but Kelly beat him to it. “Her?” she asked, voice soft, almost uncertain.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over to your mother and gently took Astrid from her arms. Astrid immediately snuggled into your shoulder, her tiny hands clutching at your dress as she peeked at the newcomers. Turning back to Max and Kelly, you smiled, though your heart was racing.

“Guys, this is Astrid,” you said softly. “My daughter.”

For a moment, there was only silence as Max and Kelly processed your words. Kelly’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide, while Max stared at you, his expression a mix of shock and something deeper.

“You have a daughter?” Kelly finally asked, voice trembling slightly.

You nodded, holding Astrid a little tighter. “I do.”

Max’s voice was careful, almost cautious. “Where’s her father?”

The question hung heavy in the air, heavy and unspoken truths lingering just beneath the surface. You looked down at Astrid, avoiding Max’s gaze as you shifted your weight uncomfortably.

“He’s…not in the picture anymore,” you said quietly.

Max’s eyes narrowed slightly, jaw tightening. It was clear he had pieced everything together, but decided not to press further. Instead, his gaze softened as he looked at Astrid, who was now peering curiously at him. Kelly stepped forward, her initial shock melting into warmth.

“Can I hold her?” she asked gently.

You nodded, carefully handing Astrid over. Kelly cradled her as if she had been waiting for this moment forever, her face lighting up as Astrid stared at her with wide, curious eyes.

“She’s so beautiful,” Kelly murmured, voice thick with emotion.

Max crouched down slightly to Astrid’s level, his serious expression softening. “Hey there, little one,” he said, playfully covering his eyes with his hands and then revealing them. “Peekaboo!”

Astrid blinked at him, tiny lips began curling into a smile as Max covered his face with his hand again and revealed it with a loud ‘boo!’ Astrid’s laughter was immediate and infectious, filling the air and making Max grin wider.

“She likes you,” Kelly said with a laugh, glancing at Max as she bounced Astrid gently.

Max looked up, his expression a mix of amusement and something more tender. “What can I say? Kids love me.”

Penelope had run up to you with little Astrid in tow, face glowing with excitement. “Auntie, can Astrid play with me? I promise that I’ll take care of her,” she said, her little hands clasped together as she gave you the most earnest look.

You smiled, crouching down to their level. “Alright,” you said gently, brushing a strand of hair out of Astrid’s face. “But remember, she’s still very small, so be careful with her, okay?”

“I promise!” Penelope chirped. “Come on Astrid, let’s play!” she took Astrid’s hand and led her back towards the group of children.

Once they were settled, you turned to Max and Kelly, who were waiting nearby, their expressions a mix of curiosity and seriousness. You gestured towards the patio table, and the three of you moved to sit down. For a brief moment, there was an awkward silence, only broken by the distant sound of children laughing.

It was Max who spoke first. “So,” he began, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “are you going to tell Lando about Astrid?”

“No.” you said firmly, meeting his gaze.

Kelly’s brows furrowed. “No?” she repeated, voice a mix of confusion and concern. “You don’t plan on telling him that he has a daughter?”

“Telling him that he has a daughter is not included in my plans,” you said quietly, glancing briefly at Astrid, who was now sitting on the grass with Penelope, giggling as they played.

Max exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “But why?” he asked, voice steady but tinged with disbelief. “Don’t you think he has the right to know?”

You looked at Max, expression calm but resolute. “He had already made his choice and I made mine,” you said softly. “By the time I found out that I was pregnant, he was already committed to building a life with someone else—for their child. I’m not that ignorant, I’ve seen the articles, Max. It’s clear as daylight that he’s happy with them, he’s being the father that the child needs.”

Max sighed. “This isn’t about the articles or public perception. It’s about Astrid. She has the right to know who her father is, and Lando has a right to know about her.”

Kelly nodded in agreement with what had Max just said. “And what happens when she grows up and starts asking questions?”

“I’ll tell Astrid,” you said. “I’ll tell her when the time is right, I’ll explain everything to her. But for now, I’m protecting her. I don’t want her to feel like she was a second thought or an obligation. I don’t want to make her feel unwanted.”

Max shook his head slightly. “It’s not fair to Astrid, or to Lando,” he said, voice low. “He deserves to know. He deserves the chance to be a part of her life.”

“And what if Lando doesn’t want to be a part of her life, Max?” you said, voice cracking slightly and gripping the edge of the table. “What if yes, I ended up telling him, and he rejected her? What if I ruin the good thing he has now, for nothing? I’m not going to be the person who will bring chaos to my daughter’s life by trying to force something that might not even work, and I most definitely won't be the one who will tear Lando’s life apart just to ease my conscience.”

Kelly reached out, placing a hand gently on yours. “I understand that you’re scared,” she said softly. “And I understand why you’ve made your choice. But you don’t have to do this alone. Whatever you decide, we’ll support you. But please, just think about it, okay?”

You nodded, though you knew that your decision was firm and wouldn’t change. ���Thank you,” you said quietly, looking between Max and Kelly. “I just need you both to trust me on this one. Trust that I’m doing what’s best for Astrid.”

Max hesitated, then finally nodded. “We’ll be keeping this just between the three of us,” he said, though there was a note of reluctance in his voice. “But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find us.”

Kelly smiled faintly, her grip on your hand tightening briefly before she let go. “Astrid is lucky to have you as her mother,” she said, voice warm. “She’s amazing and gorgeous, you know. She’s already so full of life.”

You smiled softly at Kelly’s words. “She is,” you said. “She really is.”

Glancing back towards the yard, you watched Astrid and Penelope play together, the sound of Astrid’s uncontrollable laughter filled the air, warming your heart in a way that words could never even describe. Her happiness was infectious, an important reminder of everything good in your life despite the path it had taken to get where you are now. But as your eyes lingered on her, there was a familiar ache that settled deep in your chest.

You couldn’t deny it—Astrid’s features were very unmistakable. Her eyes, so full of wonder and innocence, were a mirror image of Lando’s. Every now and then, when she turned her head a certain way or smiled just so, it was like seeing a glimpse of Lando again. The resemblance was undeniable, and it only grew stronger as Astrid got older. It was a bittersweet reality you carried with you every day.

Yet, despite the pain that came with those reminders, you were happy. Truly, deeply happy. Astrid was surrounded by love—a love so abundant that it filled every corner of her little world. She didn’t need anything else, not when you, your whole family, and everyone who cherished her. That love was enough, it had to be enough.

Letting Lando go was not easy. It had taken every ounce of strength you had to accept that the life you once imagined with him was not meant to be. But you had done it, you had learned to let him go. You had made peace with the fact that you were not the one he chose, and the woman you would never be was the one who was not his.

Someday, you knew, the time might come when you were ready to tell Lando about Astrid, ready to introduce him to the child you both brought into this world. But that day was not today. For now, you would let him continue living the life he had chosen, with the person he had chosen. You wished him nothing but happiness, even if it wasn’t with you.

You also hoped that Lando would one day find everything he was searching for, that he would feel fulfilled and content in the life he was building. Even if it hurts, you wanted that for him, and while he was busy living that life, the daughter you both would not raise together would still be here—waiting for him, even if he didn’t know it yet.

The breakup, heartache, and the choices you made were not what you had wanted, but they were what you needed. Sometimes, it’s hard to accept the fact that love is not enough to keep two people together, and that’s okay. It didn’t make the love you once shared with Lando any less real.

But for now, everything else could wait.

[no-144444]

chapter one: twists and turns - ln.4

summary: lando norris was a preppy asshole in secondary school, and you were the girl he despised. years later, you're a hot-shot sports lawyer rewriting the rules of the sport he calls home, and your paths cross, whether you want them to or not.

pairing: lando norris x fem! lawyer! reader

a/n: anything in orange and bold is the past

𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝

Lando stared at his alarm clock, waiting for it to go off in exactly one minute. He loved his off-season, but hated getting back into training. It made everything ten times harder, he was ten times more tired, and he had no more me-time.

Wales was nice, he thought, but after his exhausting day of test after test, all he really wanted was to be back in Monaco and somehow convince Max F to come over. He sat in his hotel room and felt that same pang of loneliness he’d been working his whole life to subdue. That feeling that settled itself deep in his chest and didn’t come out until he was with his friends or his family. He liked being with people, he was a people-person, but he also wanted something deeper. Something fulfilling. He looked out the window, Swansea was pretty beautiful, actually. The water was calm and the moon reflected off it, making it all look a bit more cinematic than it did during the day. His phone buzzed and he reached over his bed to grab it. 

Zak B: We need you back in Monaco tomorrow for a pretty exciting meeting 😃. See you there!

He groaned into his pillow. He was getting slightly disillusioned with F1. He had no chance if he didn’t win it this year, and no excuses. He just wanted the season to start already so he could get on with himself and prove that he learnt from everything last year. One chance. One more chance, or McLaren would drop him. 

𓆝 𓆟

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he walked into a Law firm, but it wasn’t this. His lawyers were all suit and tie-wearing, stuck up, and slightly pompous. This place seemed pretty fun to be honest. There were notice boards up for ‘trainee-activities’, free seminars on cool shit, and it was in the mountains, overlooking all of Monté-Carlo. 

“This way please,” a young woman directed him to a long board room, where half the grid already sat, with a large number of older drivers too, and all the current team principals, with some oldies as well. He sat between Max and Jenson, greeting them both. 

“What’s this about?” He turned to Jenson. He just shrugged and smiled. 

“Not sure, just got invited, said it was important,” he explained. 

Lando looked across the table at Oscar, who had definitely just rolled out of bed. He kicked him under the table, and brought him to full attention. 

“Ouch,” Oscar deadpanned, kicking Lando’s foot back. “What?”

Lando smirked, watching Oscar's reaction. “What’s all this about?” 

He shrugged. “Andrea just sent me a text.” 

Suddenly, another door opened and 4 people stepped out, but he couldn’t really make out who they were, but the room went silent anyway. One of them turned around and looked, smiling at some of the drivers, then turned back and sent more hushed whispers to his colleagues.

Another one turned around, smiling at the group. “You’re almost all here, so I guess we’ll get started,” he announced and all eyes were curiously watching him. “We know we’ve been pretty secretive about what this meeting is about, but trust us, we think you’ll be happy to know that it’s about the rules of F1.”

And then you turned around, and Lando’s world was flipped on its side. His eyes probably shot out of his head like a cartoon character, so much so that Oscar gave him a weird look. But he didn’t look at Oscar, he couldn’t. Not when you were right in front of him for the first time in years. 

“I’m Dr. Y/l/n,” you smiled. “This is Mr. Davidson, Ms. Riley, and Ms. Ray, my associates. I’m an expert in sports law, and Mr. Davidson here is my trainee. I’ve worked especially in Rugby and Rally Racing law, as have my three colleagues here, and we are here to speak to you about making the rules of F1, and motorsport in general, a lot more fair for the drivers and governing body,” you explained. “Any questions before we get started?” 

Everyone was quiet, and Lando was too busy looking at you to notice the question. 

“Great,” you smiled at the table. “I’ll let Mr. Davidson take it away,” you turned to him, and for a split second- Lando swore up and down- he saw him smirk at you. Lando wasn’t listening to the rule changes you all wanted to make, he was too busy watching you shuffle through papers and add notes as Mr.Davidson spoke. He had a scowl plastered on his face from the second that man opened his mouth. Yet, you stood there, laughing at his stupid law puns, helping him out when he got lost, and adding in bits he clearly had forgotten. You’d changed, clearly. Lando could remember doing a group project with you, back in Year 8, you were a fucking dictator. If he spelt one word wrong, misused one comma, you’d find it and berate him. The scowl only deepened.

“And now moving on to why we’re doing this. We asked the FIA about changing to a law-like system, and they were strongly against it, but we went to the owner of F1, Mr. Domenicali, and he agreed this needed to happen. We’re working with the FIA here, so don’t expect everything to turn out just perfect, I’m sure they’ll still be difficult to work with, but we want to get as close to fair as we can. Now, we’re handing out pages of paper to everyone at the table and we want your opinions on the rules right now, write specific rules that need changing and how you’d change them, give us your opinions on the system in place now and how we can fix them, we want as much input as possible,” you smiled to the group as the others handed out pages of paper and pens to everyone. George, of course, began writing a novel on his page. Oscar jotted down some ideas. Jenson wrote about 10 words. Lando just stared at his page. Then wrote:

Call me. XXX XXX XXX

And he held his paper up to be collected like he was in school. He saw how reluctant you were to grab his paper, but you took it anyway. 

You were less than impressed to see what he’d written and he could see it on your face. You looked at him for the first time, and all he did was smirk back and wave. You crumpled up his page and handed him a new sheet of paper. 

He was happy with himself. He missed this, these secret moments between you two, the ones that made him feel better about himself. He liked how no one saw, and no one noticed. He liked that it was just you and him, and nothing could change that.

𓆝 𓆟

“What’s with you and Dr. Y/l/n?” Oscar mused as they sat in the lobby, waiting to be given their ‘buddy’. 

Lando stared back at him. “What do you mean?” Oscar was like… the least socially conscious person he'd ever known, surely he wasn’t being that obvious, right? 

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m fucking blind mate?” 

Lando shrugged with a hopeful smirk. “Yes?”

“Dude, come on. How do you know her?” 

“School,” he relieved. “But it’s not like we were friends. We just… knew each other.”

Oscar nodded, satisfied with his answer. If only he knew how complicated it really was. 

ᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺ

“This is Y/n Y/l/n, she’s new in school, please show her around,” the Principal, Ms. Browne smiled at Lando. “Your parents know each other, correct?”

In the loosest sense of the term, Lando thought. He knew who you were, he’d seen you at some parties his parents had dragged him to. You were like every other girl at the school, a prim, proper, prickly, princess. At least, that’s what his brain told him, because he’d literally rather do algebra than show the new girl around the school. 

You answered for him. “We do, yes. Thank you Miss.”

You were so polite. So polished. It pissed him off, and he couldn’t even tell why. He rolled his eyes and slid off his chair, mumbling a small “Come on, princess,” as he showed you to the door. 

You left the principal’s office behind him, carrying your books. He was short for his age, and he still sounded a bit young for his age, but you didn’t really mind. You knew he was into racing, and your dad followed his career more than he followed your life, so you hated him already. His rudeness and stand-offish behaviour just added fuel to the flames. 

“So, you’d you move here?” he asked, though he was clearly uninterested in the answer. 

“Work,” you answered simply. He nodded. 

“You sing, right?” he asked and you nodded. “What show are you doing?”

“Into the Woods.”

“Have you done it before?” he asked because… well he wanted you to keep talking. He didn’t want some awkward silence he’d have to fill with his own opinions and life, because there wasn’t much there. He wasn’t super into musicals (by any means), but he knew who you were, specifically because his mum was always raving about you to him. You were her friend's daughter, and you were apparently the next Broadway talent. He knew who you were. He knew every show you’d ever been in, mostly because his mum dragged him along when he wasn’t racing. 

“Nope,” you shook your head. “But it’s pretty simple.”

He nodded. “Alright, well, this is your dorm block. You have a map, and I am no longer needed. Goodbye,” he said, before walking back across the campus to his own dorm. His friends were much too happy to know how it went, walking the new girl around the school, it would’ve been cool if it were anyone but you. 

So he just put their gossip to bed by calling you socially awkward and boring.

ᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺᆺ

“Mr. Norris, you’ll be with Mr. Davidson over here,” Sierra, Oscar’s trainee explained. Mr. Davidson sat opposite him with a smile. 

He lifted his hand to shake it. “Call me Liam,” He had a firm handshake, fucking hell. “I’m really excited to be working with you on this. I think you’re a brilliant driver.” 

Just then, Lando caught sight of you over his shoulder and again, all his attention went straight to you. Liam stared at him for a second. “Everything alright?” he asked. 

Lando nodded, his eyes trained on you as you gathered your things, he noticed the way your shirt clung to your body, the way your hair fell, the way your slacks were tight in all the right places. You were perfect. “Who’s Y/n going with?” he asked, without even thinking. 

Liam looked even more confused. “I didn’t you two know each other, small world, eh?” he questioned, chuckling. “And she’s taking the team bosses and some retired drivers. She’ll be at the same amount of races as us though, so you'll get time to catch up-”

“I want her,” he stated, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Her or I’m not doing it.” 

Liam’s face fell, and Lando counted it as a personal win. Oscar covered his face with his hands, embarrassed by his teammates' antics. “Umm, I’ll have to go talk to her about that-”

“Go. I’ll wait,” Lando smiled, looking every bit the aggressor he was being. He looked smug. 

Liam got up and went into a room (what he assumed to be your office), and a few seconds later came out telling him to go in. 

He opened the door and popped his head in. There you were, sitting at a desk behind a large screen, glasses perched dangerously close to falling off your nose. You stopped your vicious typing to look up at him expectantly. “This a good time?” he smirked. You were scowling. You rolled your eyes and went back to your furious typing as he sat down. He looked around your office. Your diplomas on the walls, pictures of you at various events and charity fundraisers, pictures of you and your team (Liam was right beside you in every single one, but he let it slide for a moment). You had a whole life he’d known nothing about. A subtle ache settled itself in his chest as a sort of… guilt blossomed. You had a whole life he knew nothing about, and he had no one to blame but himself-

“What the fuck is your problem?” you demanded, turning your attention to him. 

He chuckled. “That wasn’t very professional.” 

“Lando,” you groaned, regaining your professionalism. “What do you want from me? I didn’t choose this job, I got chosen for the role. I’m managing a team of more than 50 people alone, while doing my duties to speak to all the team bosses and take some work off the plates of my employees. I cannot possibly also talk to you every few days about your experiences with the FIA and the rules,” you huffed. “You have Liam, he’s a great lawyer, trust me.” 

Lando’s mood soured at your casual use of his first name. “Then I won’t do it.” 

You sighed. “You’re only doing yourself a disservice by not doing it, but we can’t force you,” you went back to your typing for a moment. “Close the door on your way out and send Liam in, will you?” 

Reluctantly, he got up and left you to your typing. He knew you needed his opinion, he was one of the other drivers most heavily penalised last year. 

“I’ll wait here,” Lando nodded as Liam went back into your office. 

But he made a mistake. He didn’t close the door after him. 

“You two know each other?” Liams asked. You sighed. 

“Not really, just in passing.” Lie. “He doesn't want to do it, He doesn’t have to.”

“We need his opinion though,” he sighed. “I know he sucks but… we need him.”

“Well I don’t have the time, Liam. I don’t have the time anymore. He’s just trying to rile me up-”

“Maybe I could take the retired drivers off you and you could just do the team bosses and Norris?” Liam offered. 

You were silent for a moment. Then groaned. “I really don’t want to.”

Liam chuckled. “Well, we all have to do things we don't want to do, Princess.”

Lando saw red, but listened further. 

“I guess you’re right. Tell him I’ll see him in Australia.” 

“Alrighty, thanks boss.”

Australia. Right. 

𓆝 𓆟

Pole position, shitty weather, and a win anyway. Good weekend. 

He brushed you off as the celebrations started, but when he saw you chatting with some of his engineers, gathering information, he knew he should speak to you. He was pulled away by the media before he could, and you ended up sending Sierra to do his post-race breakdown. You’d already felt for Monaco.  

Shit.

𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟

twists and turns masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[theetherealbloom]

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY

Summary: Your soulmate’s birthday is written on your arm, and it just happened to be the day the world ended.

Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Apocalypse, ANGST, Fluff, Infected, Violence, Scratching, Age-Gap (the reader is in her 20s) Romance, Unrequited, Longing, Yearning, Secrets, Injury, Blood, Jealousy, Secret Glances, Metaphors, Character Death/s, Raiders, Ambush, Hospital, Stress, Hurt-To-Comfort, 

Word Count: 7k

A/N: I 1000% came up with this one night while scrolling through prompts and AUs I could do for Joel. I saw the Soulmate AU and I was like “oh, yeah,” *evil laugh* and then I heard the snippet for I love you, I’m Sorry and I was like, “yep, perfect, time to go through pain :D” 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

| Main Masterlist |

September 26, 1967.

The date emblazoned on your wrist felt like a cruel joke, a bitter reminder of a world that had crumbled around you. The small pulse of the glow on your wrist thrummed, a haunting echo of the past. September 26 was outbreak day. The day the end of the world had come crashing down, leaving chaos and devastation in its wake. The inked numbers throbbed on your skin, a constant reminder that your soulmate was out there, somewhere in this apocalyptic wasteland.

You traced the numbers on your wrist, the ink seeming darker today, wondering if you’d ever meet the person who was meant for you. What kind of person could they be? Were they strong, gentle, kind, or hardened by the harsh world?

Hiding the mark from Joel for almost a decade took more than just care; it took an absolute miracle. You met Joel, Tess, and Tommy on your way to the Boston QZ. When you saw Joel’s wrist and the date there, you almost stopped breathing. Your birthdate on his skin was an unexpected blow. The ink on your wrist seemed to burn, yearning to connect with Joel. But his mark didn’t seem to react the same way.

When Joel and Tess started sleeping together, the walls between your apartments were paper-thin which seemed to amplify every intimate sound. You often found yourself wandering the hallways late at night, evading FEDRA officers, sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the empty night sky, stars twinkling, the moon bright. You wished for something good in a world gone bad.

You always wore long sleeves, even in unbearable heat. If you wore a short-sleeved shirt, you never took off your jacket, always coming up with some insane excuse about how cozy it was. It had become second nature, a routine you hardly thought about anymore.

As you kept your head down and worked, the grime and sweat accumulates on your skin. In exchange for your labor, you were given ration cards to obtain basic necessities.

"If it's so hot, why don't you just take off the damn jacket?" Joel gruffly asks, his irritation evident in his tone.

You stay silent and shrug, avoiding eye contact as you try to walk away to the next station, hoping to distance yourself from him. But he grabs your wrist, causing you to yank it away in surprise. "Joel, what the hell?"

Joel's tone is sharp and accusatory, causing you to instinctively flinch. "You're being awfully quiet," he scoffs.

You meet his eyes, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "What?"

"Something's off with you. What aren't you telling me?" Joel steps closer, invading your personal space, and you instinctively take a step back.

Panic sets in as you desperately search for a way out. You can't tell him the truth, so you grit your teeth and force out a lie. "I'm just tired."

"You're lying." Joel's words cut through you like a knife, making your heart race and palms sweat. The intensity of his gaze makes it clear that he won't let this go easily.

You try to remain composed, forcing a small smile. "I'm just tired from working all day."

Joel narrows his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. "Bullshit," he says bluntly.

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of the lie in the pit of your stomach. "I promise, it's nothing."

Joel takes a step closer, making you back up against the wall. Your heart races as you feel trapped under his intense stare. "I know when something's bothering you," he says softly, his tone filled with concern.

You look down at your feet, unable to meet his gaze any longer. You've been hiding this secret for so long that the thought of telling anyone, especially Joel, terrifies you.

"Please," Joel pleads, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Just talk to me."

"I have to go," you urgently declare, heart pounding as you turn and bolt away, ignoring Joel's desperate calls for you to stop.

Your heart races as you run through the dark, narrow alleys, trying to put as much distance between you and Joel as possible. The fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins drive you forward, but at the same time, your mind is racing with thoughts of guilt for leaving Joel behind.

"Why did I have to lie?" you think to yourself. "Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?"

But deep down, you know why. You know that if you were to tell anyone about the secret burdening you, it could cost both of your lives. And as much as it pains you to not tell Joel, there is no other choice.

The memories hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you back to that moment in time. But this time, it feels like you're watching from a distance, like a bystander in your own body.

"You can convince them. You always do." The words echo through your mind as Tess begs you and Joel for help. Tears stream down her face as she pleads, "You have to get her there. Keep her safe. Make things right." Joel shakes his head stubbornly, but Tess doesn't give up. "Please, Joel. Please say yes."

Everything feels surreal as you remember the infected pounding at the door, their screams like a constant reminder of what's at stake. And then Tess is gone, sacrificing herself with the rest of the infected to save the others.

Tess, your friend died that day.

But then everything shifts and you're in a different place, a house belonging to Bill and Frank. Ellie is reading a letter aloud, and you and Joel are there listening. "I used to hate the world," Ellie says, "but I was wrong. When I met my soulmate, there was one person worth saving. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

You remember Joel storming out of the house with the letter, his grief and pain palpable in every movement he makes. It's a bitter taste in both of your mouths, but it's also a reminder of why you keep fighting – because there are people worth protecting and worth saving.

Joel may not even realize it, but you've been waiting for him your entire life. And the same goes for Joel.

The scene changes once more; the deafening sound of gunshots pierces your ears and suddenly you're back in the hospital. You're behind Joel, gripping a rifle tightly as you navigate through the chaos and bodies scattered throughout the halls. 

Suddenly, you startle awake. Your heart races in your chest, and sweat trickles down your skin as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’re not out there. You’re in Jackson. You’re safe.

You briefly close your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of fear and loss from the dream. It had been two years since that fateful day in the hospital, and you were now living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie.

You gasped for breath and clutched your chest, trying to steady yourself with one hand on the softness of the sheets. You clambered out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, washing your hands and then your face. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin as you wiped it with a towel, trying to calm your nerves.

Taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, you saw the exhaustion written all over your face. The restlessness was evident in the dark circles under your eyes, and your hair was in a state of disarray.

"I look like I've been through hell," you muttered to yourself, sighing heavily.

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would help numb the pain. As the water cascaded over you, you let yourself sink into your thoughts, not really focusing on anything except the sound of water hitting your skin. Your bleary vision noticed the small cracks in the tiles on the wall.

Once you dried off and got dressed for the day, you headed downstairs to your small kitchen. The space had seen better days—cabinet doors hung slightly askew, and the pantry door refused to close all the way no matter how hard you tried.

You sighed, pushing the pantry door shut one more time before giving up and grabbing a mug from the chipped shelf. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air as you took a tentative sip, savoring the warmth.

Later that morning, you stepped out of your little house in Jackson, pausing to take in the crisp air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light over the town. You noticed the creaky and loose steps of your porch under your feet, each step emitting a groan of protest. The railings wobbled as you gripped them for balance, making a mental note to add them to your growing list of things that needed fixing.

It was just about daybreak, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon, casting a golden glow. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans, the cozy sweater you wore providing some comfort as you made your way to the stables.

You were part of the barn support staff on rotation and consistently helped out in the greenhouse. Sometimes, you were out on patrol, but today was a barn day.

As you cleaned the barn and took care of the horses, you unconsciously rolled up your sleeves, figuring no one else would be up this early. You were alone in the stables, or so you thought.

Lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from your brow, you sighed. Suddenly, you heard the sound of something dropping and a familiar voice exclaiming, "Holy shit!"

You whipped your head around to the source of the sound and saw Ellie standing there, her eyes wide as she stared directly at your wrist.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, hastily pulling your sleeve down.

Ellie took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. "Is that... a soulmate mark?"

You avoided her gaze, feeling exposed. "It's nothing, Ellie. Just... don't worry about it."

"Nothing?!" She looked incredulous. "You’ve been hiding it all this time. Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, the weight of your secret feeling heavier than ever. "It's complicated, Ellie. Joel... Joel doesn't know."

Ellie’s eyes widened even more. "Joel? As in... Joel?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words. The truth was out now, and there was no going back.

Ellie moved into your space, her curiosity getting the better of her. Without warning, she grabbed your wrist, yanking it towards her. Her eyes zeroed in on the birthdate etched into your skin, her face a mix of shock and realization.

"September 26, 1967," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, eyes wide. "That's Joel's birthday."

You tried to pull your wrist back, but Ellie held on tight, her grip firm and unyielding. "Ellie, please," you started, your voice shaky.

"Dude," she cut you off, her tone urgent and insistent. "You need to fucking tell him."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "Ellie, it's not that simple," you began, but she shook her head, not letting you finish.

"Not that simple?" she repeated, incredulous. "You've got his birthday on your wrist. You're soulmates! How much more complicated can it be?"

Your shoulders slumped as you finally managed to free your wrist from her grip. You rubbed the tender skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "You don't understand," you said softly. "Joel... he's been through so much. And so have I. Telling him now, after all these years... it might just make things worse."

Ellie's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "You think keeping it a secret is any better? He deserves to know. You both do."

You turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "Joel... he's moved on, he doesn’t want anything to do with relationships, and I don’t want to disrupt that."

Ellie snorted, crossing her arms. "Moved on? Joel’s not exactly the moving on type. He carries everything with him, all the time. You think he doesn't feel something for you?"

You glanced back at her, tears welling up in your eyes. "And what if he doesn't? What if he sees this and... and it means nothing to him?"

Ellie sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. "You'll never know if you don't try. And trust me, he’s stronger than you think. You both are."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you just stood there, lost in thought. Finally, you nodded, a small, tentative movement. "I'll think about it," you whispered.

Ellie squeezed your shoulder gently before letting go. "Good. Because secrets have a way of coming out, one way or another. And it's better if it comes from you."

As she turned to leave, you stared down at the date on your wrist, the ink seeming to pulse with a life of its own. 

Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

You sat alone on the bench in the food hall, picking at your meal and lost in your thoughts when a familiar drawl pulled you back to reality.

"Hey, darlin’."

The sound of Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat, and a sudden warmth spread through your body. You nearly choked on your food, glancing up to see him settling next to you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you sputtered, trying to regain your composure.

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No, not at all.”

He leaned back, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “How’s your day been?”

You shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Busy, as always. Barn duties and all that.”

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. “Yeah, I hear you’ve been workin’ hard. Always see you runnin’ around, takin’ care of things.”

A soft blush crept up your cheeks under his scrutiny. “Just trying to keep busy, you know? What about you?”

“Same old,” he replied, his voice low and soothing. “Patrols, repairs, keepin’ an eye on Ellie. She’s a handful.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “She definitely keeps us on our toes.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The bustling noise of the food hall became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You look tired,” he said gently, concern evident in his voice. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “Just… a lot on my mind lately.”

Joel reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm. The touch was brief but sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, concern evident. “You sure you’re alright?”

Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, but you forced a smile. “Mmm... yeah. Just going through a to-do list in my mind right now.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving your face. “Anythin’ that needs fixin’, darlin’?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just a few kitchen cabinets... the hinges squeak, and the pantry door doesn’t close all the way. Also a couple of loose steps and a wobbly railing too.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “Well, why don’t I take a look? Might be an easy fix.”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a mix of gratitude and the thrill of being near him. “You don’t have to, Joel. I know you’re busy.”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he let go. “I’ve always got time for you. Besides, can’t have you fightin’ with those cabinets every day.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Alright, if you insist.”

Joel’s eyes twinkled with a warm light. “I’ll swing by tomorrow mornin’, if that’s alright with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with him. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d appreciate the help.”

He gave a slow, easy smile that made your stomach flutter. “Great. I’ll bring my tools and we’ll get this place sorted.”

The way he said “we” filled you with a sense of comfort and belonging. “Thanks, Joel. It really means a lot.”

Joel stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Anytime, darlin’. You know I’m here for you.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I know.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, the air thick with unspoken words and the electric tension between you. Finally, he took a step back, breaking the spell.

“I should get goin’,” he said, his voice a bit huskier than usual. “Gotta talk to Tommy ‘bout somethin’.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a thrill of anticipation for tomorrow.

Joel lingered by the table, a hand on your shoulder. “Take care, okay?”

“You too, Joel,” you said softly.

He nodded and turned to leave, but not before giving you one last, lingering look. You watched him walk away, your heart pounding and your mind racing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, you were up at dawn, nerves and excitement thrumming through you as you tidied up the kitchen. Each movement was deliberate, an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But no matter how much you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, your heart racing each time the hands inched closer to Joel’s promised arrival.

As you finished your second cup of coffee, the knock on the door startled you, sending a jolt through your already frazzled nerves. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and opened the door to find Joel standing there, a toolbox in one hand and a warm, familiar smile on his face.

“Good mornin’,” he greeted, stepping inside, his presence filling the room.

“Morning, Joel,” you replied, the rush of warmth at seeing him making your voice tremble slightly.

He set the toolbox down and looked around the kitchen with a critical eye. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.”

As Joel began inspecting the cabinets and pantry door, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Every subtle flex of his muscles under his shirt drew your attention, and you found it hard to look away.

“Found the problem,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Just needs a little tightening and some oil.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the magnetic pull of his proximity. “I’m glad it’s an easy fix.”

Joel smiled, his eyes locking with yours, sending a spark of electricity through you. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

As he worked, you found yourself drawn to him, moving closer under the pretense of handing him tools or holding a flashlight. Each accidental brush of your hands sent a jolt through you, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. You felt your pulse quicken every time his fingers grazed yours.

“There,” Joel said finally, standing up and testing the now-silent hinges. “Good as new.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and a little breathless from being so close to him. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just doin’ what I can.”

You both stood there for a moment, the kitchen suddenly feeling too small and too big all at once. The silence between you was heavy with everything you weren’t saying, a tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“Joel,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I really appreciate this. More than you know.”

He looked at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache. “I’m glad I could help. And I meant what I said yesterday—you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you took a tentative step closer, the distance between you feeling like an unbearable chasm. “It’s hard to ask for help sometimes. But knowing you’re here... it makes a difference.”

Joel reached out, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll always be here for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. You felt drawn to him, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest. 

His breath hitched as you moved closer, the air between you charged with a heady mix of anticipation and yearning. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between holding back and giving in. The warmth of his body so close to yours was intoxicating, and you felt your resolve weakening with each passing second.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long.

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “I—”

Just as the air between you thickened with unspoken words, a sudden, sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment. You both turned to see a young woman standing there, her eyes lighting up when she saw Joel.

“Hey, Joel!” she called out, her tone annoyingly bright. “I heard you were here and thought I’d bring over some coffee. Figured you could use a break.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. “Uh, thanks, Vanessa,” he replied, his voice strained. “But we’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Vanessa’s eyes flicked to you, her gaze turning cold. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe I could help?”

Before you could step away, Joel’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. The unexpected gesture sent a shiver through you, and you looked up at him, your heart pounding.

“We’re busy, Vanessa,” Joel said firmly, his hand resting possessively on your hip. “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in obvious jealousy. “Right. Well, if you change your mind...” She trailed off, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of disdain and envy before she finally turned and walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Joel’s grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go. His eyes met yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay. I appreciate the backup.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your side in a way that sent tingles down your spine. “Guess we should get back to work, huh?”

You nodded, reluctantly stepping back, though his touch lingered in your mind. “Yeah, the step and railing on the porch still need fixing.”

Together, you moved outside, the tension from earlier still simmering between you. As Joel inspected the loose step, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way his hands moved with such confidence and skill, the way his brow furrowed in concentration—it all captivated you.

“Can you hold this steady for me?” he asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, stepping closer to help. Your hands brushed against his as you held the wood in place, and the contact sent a jolt through you. The proximity, the shared task, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a dance, each movement charged with unspoken feelings.

“Almost got it,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it took all your willpower not to lean into him.

Finally, he tightened the last screw and tested the step, making sure it was secure. “There. That should do it.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and more than a little breathless. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “Just doin’ what I can.”

As you both stood there on the porch, the morning sun casting a golden glow around you, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. Everything you wanted to say but didn't wash over you in the awkward stillness, and the feelings you shared were nearly visible.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape as you and your patrol partner, Mark, scouted the perimeter. He was easy-going, always ready with a joke or a reassuring word. You found his presence comforting, a steady rock amidst the chaos.

“Think we’ll find anything today?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Mark grinned, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Nah, it’s been quiet for a while now. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out. The next few moments were a blur of chaos and violence. Raiders, hidden in the underbrush, launched their attack. Mark managed to shoot one off you, his quick reflexes saving your life. But then, he was hit, and you watched in horror as he crumpled to the ground.

“Mark!” you screamed, dropping to your knees beside him. Blood poured from a wound in his chest, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. You pressed your hands against the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. “Stay with me, Mark. Please, stay with me.”

But his eyes glazed over, the light fading. You choked back a sob, fury and grief surging through you as the raiders closed in. You fought with every ounce of strength you had, slashing and stabbing, your vision blurred by tears and the pouring rain that had begun to fall. Blood and dirt smeared your face, and pain lanced through your body from multiple wounds.

The storm roared with fury, whipping the trees and lashing the ground with torrents of rain. You stumbled through the churning chaos, your clothes drenched and clinging to your skin, your muscles burning from the effort of pushing forward. Your vision blurred by the onslaught, you fought to keep moving, each step a battle against the ferocious elements. In that moment, all that mattered was survival - staying alive until the tempest passed.

It had been hours since Joel last saw them. His graying hair was in danger of being pulled out in frustration. You and Mark were supposed to be back by now. The patrol route you both took was supposed to be a shorter one.

Joel paced back and forth in the settlement, struggling to contain his anger. “Why the hell can’t I go out there, Tommy? She’s my partner, my—” He cut himself off, frustration and fear etched into his features.

Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm. “You’re too close to this, Joel. You need to stay here. I’ll find her.”

Hours dragged by, each minute an eternity. Joel’s rage simmered, his helplessness gnawing at him. He punched the wall, his knuckles splitting, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear of losing you.

Tommy had taken a small team out to search for you and Mark, but there was still no word. The storm raged on, making it even harder to find any trace of you.

Joel’s mind raced with possibilities – had you and Mark been ambushed? Taken by the raiders? Injured and unable to make it back? His heart clenched at the thought of you hurt or worse.

He cursed himself for not going out with you both, for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. He knew better than anyone that in this world, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down. But he had let himself become complacent, too focused on protecting you rather than seeing things clearly.

Bile rises in Joel's throat, the taste of fear and worry leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to push the feeling down as he anxiously waits for any news.

The bitter taste of regret and fear lingered on Joel’s tongue, each thought of what could happen to you making his stomach turn.

The metallic taste of blood was thick on Joel's tongue as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his emotions. The rancid taste of fear and worry lingered in his mouth, coating his throat and making it hard to swallow.

Meanwhile, Tommy pushed through the storm, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the distant echoes of thunder. He called out your name, his voice barely audible above the roar of the tempest. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination, each step sinking into the mud as he trudged forward.

The rain came down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning flashed, illuminating the twisted branches and slick ground for brief moments. He stumbled over fallen logs and through thick underbrush, the storm making every movement a struggle.

Tommy's eyes darted around, searching desperately. He felt a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach, a fear that he was too late. Then, in the distance, he saw a figure lying still. His breath caught in his throat as he hurried over, praying that it wasn't you.

As he got closer, he recognized the bodies of the raiders, their lifeless forms sprawled across the muddy ground. The sight was gruesome, the aftermath of a brutal fight. His heart sank when he saw Mark, his friend and comrade, lying motionless with a fatal wound. He forced himself to look away, his focus now solely on finding you.

Finally, his eyes landed on you, crumpled and barely breathing. His heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside you. Blood soaked your clothes, mingling with the dirt and rain, creating a grim tapestry that told the story of your fierce struggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice trembling with urgency and concern. He gently lifted your head, cradling you in his arms. You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed, pain-filled eyes.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. The confusion and pain in your gaze made Tommy’s heart clench.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw the mark on your wrist, illuminated by a flash of lightning. It was the same date he had seen on Joel’s wrist—the same mark. Realization hit him like a freight train, the pieces falling into place with a sudden clarity. “It’s Tommy,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

But you had already slipped back into unconsciousness, your body limp in his arms. Tommy’s heart raced as he gently but urgently lifted you, securing you on his horse. He mounted behind you, holding you close to keep you steady, and spurred the horse into a gallop.

The ride back was a blur of rain and darkness, each second stretching into an eternity. The storm seemed to rage even harder, the wind whipping through the trees and the rain stinging like needles. Tommy’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, fear for your life mingling with the shocking revelation of your connection to Joel.

By the time Tommy reached the settlement, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin like a second, frigid layer. Every muscle in his body ached from the grueling ride and the weight of your unconscious form. The rain had not let up, and his vision was blurred by the relentless downpour. But he didn't stop, carrying you swiftly yet carefully towards the infirmary, each step a struggle against exhaustion and worry.

Joel was just by the large gate of Jackson, pacing anxiously. The moment he saw Tommy approaching with your limp body, his heart seemed to stop. His face, already drawn with worry, twisted into an expression of sheer desperation.

“Is she okay?” Joel asked frantically, his voice cracking. His eyes were wide, darting between Tommy and your pale face for any sign of hope.

“She’s alive,” Tommy said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He handed you over to the medics who were rushing to meet them. Joel instinctively moved to follow, but Tommy grabbed his arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Joel, wait. Look at her wrist,” Tommy urged, his voice low but insistent.

Joel’s eyes followed Tommy's gaze, landing on the mark on your wrist. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut, the date etched into your skin unmistakable. It was the same as his. Realization dawned with a mixture of awe and dread. “Fuck,” he breathed, the weight of it crashing over him. The one person he couldn’t afford to lose was you, and now he knew why.

The medics were quick, their movements efficient as they assessed your injuries and began to prepare you for treatment. They lifted you onto a stretcher, intent on rushing you inside where they could better tend to your wounds. Joel moved to follow, his protective instincts kicking in, but the medics tried to hold him back.

“Sir, you need to let us do our job,” one of them said, a young woman with a firm but gentle voice.

“No,” Joel growled, his eyes blazing with determination and fear. “I ain’t leavin’ her side.”

Tommy stepped in, trying to reason with him. “Joel, you gotta let the doctors work.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with the effort to contain his emotions. “I can’t… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he choked out, his voice raw with pain and anger.

“I know, but you stayin’ in there won’t help her. You’ll only be in the way,” Tommy said, his tone gentle but firm. He placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “You’ve gotta trust them to do their job. Let them help her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the door to the infirmary where they had taken you. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be by your side, to make sure you were safe. But he knew Tommy was right. With a heavy, reluctant nod, he allowed himself to be led away, his heart aching with every step.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited. Joel paced back and forth, his mind racing with worry. He could still see the image of you, broken and bloodied, every time he closed his eyes. The mark on your wrist haunted him, a constant reminder of the bond that tied you together. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't bear to lose you.

Tommy stood by, watching his brother with a mixture of sympathy and concern. He knew how much you meant to Joel, and the revelation of the soulmate mark only intensified that bond. He wished there was something more he could do, some way to ease Joel’s pain.

Finally, a medic emerged from the infirmary, her expression tired but relieved. “She’s stable,” she announced, and Joel felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “She’s got a long road to recovery, but she’s a fighter.”

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and determination. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He would stay by your side, no matter what. The bond you shared was too precious to ever let go.

Days blurred into a haze of sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeping of machines. You drifted in and out of consciousness, each time greeted by the comforting sounds of Joel and Ellie. Joel's low, soothing voice often filled the room, whether he was talking to you or humming a soft tune. Ellie would sit by your bed, recounting stories with her usual animated flair, her voice a bright spot in the darkness.

One evening, as the storm outside mirrored the chaos within, you stirred slightly. The weight of Joel's hand on your wrist was a grounding force, his presence unwavering. He looked exhausted, his eyes heavy with worry, but he never left your side.

In one of your more lucid moments, you caught snippets of Joel's soft singing, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His voice was a balm, a tether to the world you were trying so hard to rejoin. He would often lean down to press gentle kisses to your forehead, his touch both a promise and a plea for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you awoke fully. Your throat was dry, and every muscle ached, but you were aware. The weight on your wrist brought your gaze to Joel. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge, fast asleep. He looked worn out, dark circles under his eyes and a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing your gaze.

“I...” Your voice came out as a croak, and you winced.

“Here, drink up,” Joel said, quickly pouring a glass of water and holding it to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

After a few sips of water, you managed to find your voice again. “How long have I been out?” you asked, your throat feeling slightly raw from disuse.

“Almost a week,” Joel replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

“A week?” you repeated in shock. It felt like only a few hours had passed.

Joel nodded, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “You were pretty out of it for a while there.”

You felt a pang of guilt for causing so much worry and trouble for everyone. “I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said firmly, his eyes filled with intensity. “Just focus on getting better.”

“I will,” you promised, grateful for his unwavering support.

The relief on Joel’s face was palpable, but as he set the glass aside, a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?” His voice was quiet, but the intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You looked away, shame burning your cheeks. “Trust me, I know. It's always about me.”

Joel's jaw clenched. “I just… I didn’t think you could ever want me.” Your voice broke, the years of hiding and pretending catching up to you.

Joel’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. “You’ve always been more than I deserve,” he murmured. “I just wish you’d told me.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you struggled to breathe. “I love you…” you choked out, the words finally escaping your lips after years of being held back. “I’m sorry.”

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

In the midst of life's storms, a quiet calm settled around you both, like discovering an oasis in the desert. Amidst chaos and pain, you found your soulmate, and love emerged as the unwavering light guiding you through the darkest nights.