#difficulty controlling his emotions

[atwas-gaming]

I've had a scenario in mind for a while now about what it would take for Sonic to finally own up to his feelings about Amy. And I think what it would take is...

Shadow.

Well, just plain jealousy and a fear of losing Amy before he even has her. But Shadow would be the best one to instigate it.

First, some headcanons about how they behave romantically:

Amy's maturing and spreading her wings. She's not moving on from Sonic, not really, but it's possible that she's starting to notice other guys. There's some hints in the Twitter takeovers that she may be developing some small interest in Shadow.

Sonic is clearly interested in Amy, and if you pay attention, he has been for a long time. What he's not interested in is marriage- at least, not yet. And Amy is clearly wifey material- she cooks, she takes care of people, she has a caring nature, she's protective, and she's extremely loyal. She's not someone you can use for a one-night stand, you take all of her or you risk shattering her into pieces. She's Sonic's friend, no matter what else he may feel about her, so he avoids any romantic interaction because he doesn't want to hurt his friend.

Meanwhile, Shadow is... not aro-ace, per se, I don't know what you'd call him. He can see that Amy is attractive, but so is Rouge, and Shadow has no interest in Rouge. He just isn't interested in the physical side of romance.

What I think it would take to get Shadow's attention is something deeper, an emotional or spiritual connection.

So here's the Sonamy/Shadamy love triangle scenario that I came up with:

As Amy ages, she feels her desire for male companionship growing stronger. Sonic takes little notice of it, but it doesn't escape Shadow's attention.

Somehow or other, Shadow and Amy end up alone together, probably on a mission or something. I haven't figured out the exact circumstances, but they're together for quite a while. Amy loves to talk to people and get to know them, and Shadow has a soft spot for her, so she's able to get him to talk to her about things that he's probably never told anyone before. And he knows she won't tell anyone about them, either, so he feels safe telling her.

At some point, Shadow realizes, she's done it. She's broken through his barriers, and at the same time, she's calmed the storm of emotions that he's had swirling inside him for 50-odd years. He hasn't felt such peace since... no, not even then. This is something else. He's never felt this way before, and he doesn't have the words to describe it, but he's fallen head over heels for her.

This is why he never lets his guard down, even around the people he trusts most. Because if he lets them in, even a little bit, he might let them in too far. ("Can you see all of me, walk into my mystery, step inside and hold on for dear life.")

He loses control of himself and kisses Amy.

And when he lets go, he instantly hates himself, he starts throwing his barriers back up, because... she's crying. She's crying because she liked it, and she wants more of it, but she's still so desperately in love with Sonic, and she's starting to think she'll never get it from him, so she'll accept affection from just about any man, and it's not like Shadow's unattractive, and, and, and...

So Shadow's raw and open and hurting, he knew before he said or did anything that he was going down a dangerous path, but talking to Amy felt so good he didn't want to stop. And he wants to erase what just happened like it never did. But now he has to be the one to comfort Amy, because this was his fault, Amy was just being the kind and compassionate person she always was and Shadow was an idiot for letting it get to him and making more of it than what it was and losing control. So he has to keep his barriers down for just a moment longer, just long enough to hold Amy and tell her it's not her fault, until her tears finally stop.

It leaves Shadow burning with rage, and as soon as he can, he forcefully confronts Sonic (I imagine Shadow slamming Sonic against a wall or a tree and shouting in his face 😝) and basically tells him, "Amy needs attention from a man, she wants that man to be you, but if you can't grow up and do what it takes, then I'll be more than glad to take your place."

Which scares Sonic good and proper. It's bad enough to think that he could lose Amy, anyway, but to lose her to that faker??? And it finally makes him go to Amy and (very, very awkwardly) ask her to be his girlfriend. And... I'll let y'all imagine the rest.

As for Shadow... he, quite understandably, becomes somewhat aloof towards both Sonic and Amy for a long time after that.

But Shadow's immortal, right? And there's other Amy's in the world. He doesn't have to be alone forever.

Oh, and as for why Shadow would confront Sonic instead of just taking Amy for himself: because he respects both Amy and, especially, himself far too much to do that. He knows good and well she will never be able to fully commit to anyone else as long as Sonic is still an option. If Shadow was to start dating her, she'd go along with it, but it would become a power play between him and Sonic to try to "win" Amy's affections. Shadow has no issues with fighting Sonic over just about anything, but when it comes to his own feelings, he won't stoop that low, and he's not about to hurt himself by playing such a game. I also don't think he would view Amy as "a prize to be won."

[chicago-geniza]

The vampire bond when you're alexithymic must be like this all the time

[daxisyzz]

hi! i’m thinking about some angst with a soft fluff ending where the reader and bucky is in their early stages of their relationship. bucky was s h@rass3d in hydra, he was struggling to make physical contact and interactions with the reader but somehow learned what safe touch is 🫶🏻

here's your fic <3

A kind of brave

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky flinches when you touch him—but you're not in a hurry. Love, in your world, is patient.

Word count: 1.1k+

The writing in italics is a flashback

Warnings and tags: Past trauma and harassment (non-graphic), Flashbacks to Hydra-related abuse, PTSD symptoms (flinching, hypervigilance, difficulty with physical touch), Emotional vulnerability, Hurt/Comfort, Gentle Love, Healing Together, Safe Touch Exploration, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Reader Helps Bucky Heal.

You weren’t expecting anything when it started.

He’d shown up to the Tower quieter than most. Standoffish, unreadable. You'd been assigned as his point of contact—“Ease him in,” they said. “Help him find normal.”

But normal wasn’t easy to come by for someone like Bucky Barnes.

Still, he let you sit with him during shared meals. You’d catch him listening as you told stories about the city or teased Sam across the room. His replies were clipped but thoughtful. He'd nod when you made jokes. Once, you caught him smiling.

Then came the moment that changed things—subtly, but completely.

You were reaching for a mug in the kitchen. He stood beside you. As your fingers brushed his arm—just a touch, featherlight—he flinched.

Not dramatically. Not enough to cause a scene. But enough for your heart to ache.

His shoulders tensed. His breath hitched. He stepped back like the heat of your skin had burned him.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, pulling your hand back instantly.

He didn’t speak. Just stared at the floor, ashamed of something that wasn’t his fault.

You didn’t bring it up that day. Just gave him space and offered him coffee like nothing happened.

But that moment stayed with you.

So you started paying closer attention

You noticed it in the way he avoided the couch if someone was already sitting. How he always stood at the far edge of the elevator. How his hands stayed buried in his sleeves, even when the sun was warm.

When he smiled, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

When he laughed, it was careful—like joy was something borrowed.

You adapted without needing to say it aloud. Stood beside him instead of in front. Sat far enough away that he wouldn’t feel cornered. Asked with your eyes before you ever reached out.

He noticed. You knew he did. Because slowly, inch by inch, he started to linger longer. Sit a little closer. Speak a little more.

Trust takes time.

Especially when you’ve been taught the wrong definition of touch.

It always started with the sound.

A low, mechanical click as the restraints slid into place, followed by the sterile whir of lights flickering to life overhead — harsh, clinical, too white. Too clean. A cruel contrast to the filth he was forced to live in.

The chair was metal, ice-cold against his skin no matter how long he was in it. His breath fogged in the air like a ghost trying to escape. But ghosts were free. He wasn’t.

He stopped fighting it years ago — if years even existed down here. Time was meaningless in a place that never changed. No windows. No sky. No sense of day or night. Just missions, control, silence. Then pain.

A man in a lab coat leaned over him, faceless and featureless in Bucky’s mind now. There had been too many. They all smelled the same — antiseptic and cruelty. A hand gripped his chin, tilting his face roughly upward like he was an object being inspected.

“You're not him anymore,” the voice said, clinical, bored. “You don't flinch. You obey.”

But he did flinch — inside, where no one could see. Where it wouldn't earn him another reset.

Another hand came next — this one pressed over his shoulder, firm and too slow to be casual. They wanted him to feel it. They always wanted him to feel it, in the worst ways. Not just pain, but control. Ownership. Submission.

It wasn’t the physical agony that broke him the most. It was how they taught him to dread touch. How something so human became a punishment. They rewired him — so that warmth became threat, closeness became fear, and skin-on-skin was something to survive rather than savor.

There were nights after a mission when they didn’t even have to touch him. They’d just come close. Breathe behind him. Wait for him to flinch.

He always did.

It was a week after a rough mission. Bucky had barely said a word.

You found him on your couch one night, long after the city had gone to sleep. Hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. Eyes vacant.

You didn’t speak right away. Just offered him tea. Sat beside him—far enough to let him breathe.

Eventually, he said it.

“Do you know what it’s like,” he whispered, “to want to be touched but not know how?”

Your heart cracked. You didn’t rush to fix it.

Instead, you said, “Yeah. I think… I do.”

He turned toward you. “It wasn’t just the fighting. HYDRA—they used touch. Twisted it. Made it mean control. Made me afraid of something I used to love.”

You swallowed. “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

His voice dropped lower. “Sometimes I still feel like a weapon. Even now. When you smile at me. When you sit close. Part of me wants to pull you in. And the other part... is scared I’ll ruin it.”

“You won’t,” you promised. “Not with me."

He asked if he could hold your hand.

His voice shook when he said it.

“Only if you’re sure,” you told him.

“I’m not sure of anything,” he confessed. “But I want to try.”

So you laid your hand between you on the couch. Open. Waiting.

He took it, slow and careful. His fingers hovered before they rested on yours, like he was expecting the world to crack open beneath him.

But it didn’t.

And for the first time, he didn’t flinch.

You squeezed gently. “You’re doing amazing.”

He smiled—small, but real.

He started coming over more.

Sometimes with books. Sometimes with nothing but tired eyes and quiet company.

One night, you found him in the kitchen. He was making tea—two cups. He handed you yours without a word, then hesitated.

“Can I stay tonight?” he asked.

You blinked. “Of course. You want the couch?”

He shook his head. “I want to try… sleeping next to you. If that’s okay.”

You nodded. “It’s more than okay.”

That night, he curled up beside you—nervous but determined. You didn’t reach for him.

But he reached for you.

His fingers brushed yours under the blanket.

Light, hesitant.

You looked over. “This alright?”

He nodded, eyes a little glassy. “Yeah. It’s… nice.”

You didn’t need more than that.

And when you woke the next morning, his arm was loosely around your waist. His breathing soft against the back of your neck. No nightmares. No panic.

Just warmth.

Just safety.

Just him.

He still had bad days. Days when the shadows whispered louder than your voice.

But they passed.

And on the good days, you’d catch him reaching for you without thinking—nudging your foot under the table, brushing your hair behind your ear, linking pinkies as you walked side by side.

He was learning.

And he was loving you, in the way only he could—slow, steady, gentle.

Not perfect.

But real.

And more than enough.

[memientom0ri]

Similarities between Inhun/457 and Hannigram; personal analysis of the attitudes that connect these characters 💭

Starting with actor Lee Byung Hun's face. I don't even need to go into details...

• Villain disguised as a hero;

Inho/001 x Hannibal Lecter

Both wear a good guy disguise to get close to and mentally and psychologically manipulate their "target" of obsession, taking actions to impress and defend the target that sometimes make us question their villainy towards the good guy.

Both Inho and Hannibal seem to be desperately searching for a trace of understanding and similarity in someone towards themselves. Hannibal became obsessed with Will when he saw this similarity in him (both characters misunderstood by society, mentally broken and with difficulties in expressing and understanding their own emotions), and just like the cannibal, Inho saw something similar in Gihun, therefore, feeling the need to, somehow, get close to him to keep him under his control.

"But Inho and Gihun are completely different", yes, just like Hannibal and Will; that doesn't stop the characters from identifying with each other psychologically.

In my opinion, Inho saw in Gihun an ambition and confidence that piqued his interest. "But Gihun is not ambitious or self-centered" No, he is not, not materially speaking. Gihun's ambition comes from the will he has over the things he sets out to do. He is ambitious about what he wants and this ambition is accompanied by a hyper-empathy bordering on masochism, considering that Gihun returned to the game not only because of his desire to end it, but because of the guilt of having survived when people died, because of the desire to prevent other deaths. This hyper-empathy also shows up in other scenes, and this is where Will comes in.

• The hyper-empathetic good guy;

Will Graham × Seong Gihun

Unlike Will's hyper-empathy, which manifests itself through his ability to put himself in the Assassin's shoes and mentally experience the murders, Gihun's empathy is blatant, making us feel a little angry and uncomfortable with the situations in which 456 puts himself by thinking more about others than about himself. A scene that left me in agony was in season 2, in the first game, where he runs from the safe area to pick up a man who was shot in the leg. The man would have been killed anyway, but he insisted on picking him up with less than 30 seconds to go.

Unlike 456's blatant empathy, which almost makes him seem naive in several scenes (like when he gives his only extra ammunition to Inho to save himself in the future), Will's empathy is more "dark" and firm. Will doesn't trust people easily, much less Hannibal, while 456 trusts Inho/001 right away and from the first contact they are inseparable.

• Jealousy, Control and Possessiveness

I think that after their faces, these are the characteristics that Hannibal and Inho have most in common. Neither of them want their good boys to have anyone other than themselves. We can see Hannibal eliminating the people who get close to Will throughout the series, but with Inho, we follow the stages and moments of this jealousy until it reaches its peak (the final episode that resembles Mizumono). Inho observed Gihun's interactions with Jungbae (Gihun's longtime friend) in silence, just processing each moment and creating a mental bomb that would explode in the future (like when Jungbae made Gihun laugh, at night in the dorms, and the scene cuts to 001 listening under the bed in total DISGUST).

• Mizumono

Both villains analyzed here need to control their targets of obsession, manipulating them and trying to build a home in their heads, and when they realize they have been "betrayed", that's when the bomb explodes.

Hannibal felt betrayed by Will when he learned that he was helping in a plan against him behind his back (but we know that Will was so confused about his feelings and morality that he didn't even know who to go with), and then killed Abgail in front of him after a heartbreaking speech.

Inho felt betrayed by Gihun when, during a shootout in the player vs. soldier attack, Gihun said he would go inside to find the way out. Inho asked: "Shall I go with you?", and Gihun simply said that Jungbae would go with him. Later, Jungbae asks 456 why he chose him and not 001 who is more skilled with weapons, and Gihun answers that he chose him because they are friends. The next scene suggests that Inho, disappointed, listened behind the communicator, but we don't know if the communicators were on or not...

It's worth noting the expression on Inho's face when Gihun said that Jungbae was the one who would...

(POOR GUY 456 APOLOGIZE TO HIM AND TAKE HIM WITH YOU NOW

The Mizumono between 456 and 001 happens thanks to this event, when, later, after putting on his masked Boss costume, Inho goes to Gihun and Jungbae on the stairs. Just like Hannibal, he says heartbroken words (less dramatic and more angry) and eliminates Jungbae in front of Gihun.

Both killed people close and important to their targets out of possessiveness and hurt, out of a sick and incomprehensible feeling of betrayal; feelings that only they understand.

How can little sweet creatures like this be so DESTRUCTIVE.

There doesn't seem to be a need and mutual dependence in 457 like there is in Hannigram (at least not yet, there's still one season left), the obsession and interest come from Inho, but there is a notable chemistry and tension, smiles and exchanges of OBVIOUS glances.

I know that Hannigram is complex and very intense, I'm not making an extremely serious comparison, but rather recording some points that I observed and since I love both couples, I wanted to do this. The depth of the characters is obviously different, we're just making a fan observation here. ♡

[lambcultist]

in bloom. 𝐸.𝒲.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — ‧₊˚ ⋅ ellie is struggling to come to terms with the reality of her immunity, and you are struggling with heeding everyone's warnings about her.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — ‧₊˚ ⋅ MINORS DNI ( 18+ ) mean!jackson!ellie x shy!sweetheart!reader. ellie is the local bitch in town, reader the sweetheart. canon divergence. ellie is struggling a lot with depression, insecurity, worthlessness, panic attack. mentions of reckless behaviour due to said mental health issues. heavy mention of ellie's difficulty regarding her and joel's relationship. reader is extremely shy. awkward x awkward tbh. probably lots of secondhand embarrassment. lots of pining, slow burn. hurt / comfort. some angst. explicit death, infection, killing, etc. tooth-rotting fluff and some cliche. lots of canon elements skewed and played with to fit the mean trope, though she's barely even 'mean', she's just misunderstood. follows ellie's pov more. protective + jealous ellie... cat mentioned. dina and jesse are dating. ellie has pollen allergies. pet names (baby girl, kitten, darling). sex — dom!ellie, sub!reader. virginity loss. oral + fingering (r), tribbing. reader cums prematurely and is insecure/embarrassed. lots of praise.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — ‧₊˚ ⋅ omg !! i've been working on this for so long. i'm so happy with how she's turned out. it's a long one, so, strap in. there's a bit of a bigger focus on exploring ellie's point of view as i wanted to focus on her emotional state. all in all, i feel so sad for my girl, like, she feels worthless and that's not okay. so i wanted to write about her realising she means something to someone. you can also read on ao3.

　　　　m.list　wc — 18.4k　mdni, please ♡

　　　　　　　　　WINTER.

"aww, grumpy decided to show face."

with a soft rolling of her eyes, ellie purses her lips and lets out a sigh. she could recognise the voice anywhere, jesse's remarks so typical and yet never any less annoying.

"yeah, well i'm regretting it," ellie replies, glancing up at her friend. "i hate these things."

"that would be because you're a lonely sack of shit," jesse points out.

to that, ellie just scoffs and looks into her half-empty glass, the amber liquid swirling as her thoughts often do. the string lights above twinkle like stars, and the room is alive, so alive, with laughter and love. it's all what ellie wishes she had, along with the ability to forget about life's burdens for even a few hours. she fucking wishes it were possible for her.

from the children outside pretending to be the most gruesome and unsightly monsters in games of tag, to the elders and adults with a buzz warming their aching bones, everyone in jackson seems comfortable enough to make some light of the world outside the walls. it seems that easy for them to leave behind the troubles faced.

"come on," jesse relents, firmly patting her shoulder. ellie's silence speaks more than her voice, and if there's anyone who knows it, it's him. "i'm glad you showed up for once. i worry. so does dina. and joel."

"yep." for a moment she allows her face to soften, though her eyes narrow at the last addition: joel. "he's talking to you about me? again?"

"just the usual," jesse admits. "patrol. he suddenly gets a lot more involved in the planning process when it comes to your patrols."

"well he's going to stop it soon, i promise you that."

jesse chuckles quietly and shakes his head. "no need. i understand."

"no, he'll stop bothering you about it," ellie assures. "i'll talk to him."

it's deeper than bothering jesse. it boils down to ellie wishing for some more control. joel is more than just a thief to her life's purpose. his protection is unwarranted, his attempts at repairing what's lost simply a waste of time in ellie's eyes. there is no fix.

"so, dina's talking to your little friend over there," jesse says gruffly, nodding his head across the room to where you and dina rest at a table. you look meek, and dina acting of her usual high enthusiasm—if a little more intense than usual, thanks to the alcohol. she's ranting and raving, and you're nodding along. a change of subject was needed.

"she's not my friend," ellie mutters, doing her best to avoid looking, or at the very least, making it obvious that she is looking. her eyes steal fleeting glances every so often.

"i'm not sure how you managed this, but she is your friend," jesse says. "whether you like it or not, she sees you as a friend. that would be because you don't act like a dick around her. almost as though you might be... trying to impress her?"

"you're unbelievable." ellie shakes her head and her fingers tighten around her glass for a moment. "she's just.. not... she doesn't deserve me being a dick. she's the only person around here who's nice to me.. it doesn't mean anything."

"hey guys, are we having fun being antisocial wallflowers over here?"

dina suddenly appears in front of jesse and ellie, you attached to her arm like a kitten held by the scruff. immediately, ellie straightens her posture, downing the last of her whiskey. as it burns her throat, she fixes her collar, fumbling with the blue flannel before finally looking at you.

all the laziness leaves her body when you're around. maybe jesse is right. jesus, she actually wants to impress you.

the band strikes up another song and lightning fast, dina takes jesse by the arm. "it's our song! come on stupid."

that goddamn wink and smirk as she guides him away, leaving her alone with you, makes ellie feel a pit in her stomach. fuck, those idiots planned this. was dina giving you a goddamn pep talk before?

"hi."

"hey," ellie murmurs, eyes shifting from your face, to your dress, and to the stack of small papers in your hands. odd, but you're full of odd behaviours and quirks that make her smile. almost. "how's your night?"

"i— huh? oh— that's not—" you stare at your cards, your own handwriting seemingly illegible at this moment. it's worse with your hands trembling, and you sift through the cards, only to come up with nothing. you didn't plan a response for that. "you went off script. don't do that."

"off script?" a beat passes before ellie laughs a little bit, abruptly stopping when she realises it's upsetting you. you're actually stressed, clearly with something to say and not the guts to speak up. "sorry, i'm not laughing at you. sorry, sorry. i'll... stay on script this time."

oh shit. is this what i think it is?

ellie's heart is pounding. she knows what's coming. the inevitable confession she never wants to hear, especially not from you. don't. i'll only get you hurt.

"okay," you reply. you heave a breath before beginning to read your cards. "um, i hope you're doing good and that i'm not bothering you too much right now—"

"why would you bother me?"

"don't interrupt me, that's not in the script."

"sorry." she clears her throat, nods solemnly and stares over you.

internally, she's begging for this not to happen—because what is she to do? hurt your feelings and say no? or give in to selfish desires, only to hurt you deeply somewhere down the line? it's a lose-lose.

you resume; "i hope i'm not bothering you by saying this, but— oh fuck, no, wait."

you drop your script, papers falling to the floor like a house of cards. you crouch down to try and retrieve every piece but everything is out of order. your hands dig frantically around ellie's shoes for your cards, your senses only brought back once her hand takes your wrist.

reassurance is on the tip of her tongue and yet fails to make a sound. ellie just crouches in front of you and picks a card up from the floor, skimming the words on it.

thank god, it's not at all what she thought. such a simple, sweet request.

"you want to dance?"

"i, uh.." your eyes open wide and panicked. but looking at ellie's warm, flushed cheeks and what seems to be openness on her features, you'll happily go along with it. "yeah."

"we can do that," ellie replies. it feels wrong, unfamiliar, to smile in a public place, but she cracks the corners of her lips up and pulls you to stand. she is relieved that perhaps she was wrong, this wasn't a confession. she can indulge in this one moment and dance with you, but you'll be safe from her in the future. "you won't be needing these anymore."

you can't protest before ellie snatches your cards and pockets them. she pulls you up alongside her. the world spins around you, a dreamlike feeling casting over you. warmth in your cheeks and a tingle in your toes as she guides you further from the bar and into the crowd of dancing couples. teens leaving room for jesus, elders grateful to spend yet another night with their beloved after decades of survival without hope, and now, you and ellie, fill the space.

maybe it's the whiskey, but ellie's muscles are lax and she's content with your arms encircling her shoulders. she considers pulling you closer, but people are already staring. so, her hands settle for your waist and she glares at the floor, the tips of her ears a blazing red.

ellie should not be anywhere near you. the resident sweetheart of jackson hole, wrapped up in delicate fabrics and scuffed mary janes, should not be concerned with ellie williams. your big eyes and timid smile, the kind that both comforts and petrifies her, it's magnetic in a sense.

she doesn't even pick up on your worried look, she doesn't realise that her own expression has turned grim. her eyes widen, your fingers tuck a strand of her behind her ear. that puppy-like head tilt and the slow sway of your hips...

she's a goner.

and everyone in this fucking room is staring at you—probably wondering what the hell has gotten into you. even ellie wonders.

the fear of looking like a threat is getting to her; maybe her attempts not to look like a threat are making her look all the more suspicious right now.

the entire night plays back like a movie in her head.

ellie's garage is cold. even with the heater on and her mountainous piles of blankets, she cannot shake the blues away. she felt a girl's love for a few minutes—of course, these minutes felt like a century in her mind—and once the ballad had come to a close, she forced herself to step away. one three minute song is all she will allow.

her journal learns all about it. the memory is fixed in messy handwriting and scribbles of your face. she cannot capture the look the way that she wishes to. every time that she tries, ellie is reminded of the fact that you were the only person in that space to look at her so fondly.

she jots down the lyrics to the song that played. she attempts to write exactly what your little 'script' had said, and that's when it hits—she pocketed them. ellie has a physical keepsake.

she fishes through her pockets and pulls out the pile of cards. she shuffles through for your invitation to dance. the important part, that is. your handwriting is rather pleasant, she thinks, a smile on her face. it's not like her own.

a card drops onto the journal spread and ellie sighs, lithe fingers reaching for it—her heart stops.

'i really like you, and i wanted to ask if you would be interested in spending some more time together. and not really in a friendly way.'

"oh fuck." ellie's throat feels so tight, as though choking on air. fuck, this can't be. her eyes scan the cards for any other possible intention. she reorders them, rereads it until she has the entire speech locked in her mind.

there is no other possible meaning to this.

you were shy, you were nervous, and giggling, and trembling, and stuttering, all because of her.

"not happening," ellie mutters, abruptly leaving her desk. "stay away from me."

the cards lay sprawled across her journal, lamp light cast over it.

the sun rarely shines as bright as this in jackson's colder months, and although today the sky is muted, the snow-covered ground is glistening beneath the early morning sun, pristine white.

you are not invincible against the cold biting at your skin, nor the way your eyes wish to rest a few more minutes. but if there is anyone in this town who will happily ignore it, it is you. up bright and early day in and day out to assist in the daycare, greeting others with smiles or compliments to ease the burden of the morning on them.

only today it is intolerable. your night continued into rather late hours at home, teardrops falling into your hands over the mere fact that your plan to confess was foiled. the world keeps spinning and after all, there are positives to the situation. you held yourself as you slept, hand on your hip in just the same way that ellie's had been there hours prior—you swore you could still feel her warmth.

your embarrassment could be easier to deal with if it weren't for the public opinion. quite shocking that ellie has such a reputation. her name circles town daily, and now, you are being told about her in quite egregious detail by whoever you stumble upon; you're being warned about her.

she looks like she's hiding. streaks of auburn darting down the street, jesse in tow. she takes the long way to the stables, you guess, and makes a wide birth around the daycare. it stings. what the hell happened? did you mess up this bad?

clammy little hands wrap around your legs and your attention is taken to chubby red cheeks, young oscar all smiles to see his favourite daycare attendant this morning.

"hey buddy," you murmur. the sudden feeling that you are being watched makes you look up, and it's then that you meet a flash of thyme green eyes; ellie. unfortunately she disappears quicker than she had appeared.

"are you okay?" oscar's mother is a short woman, often as flushed in the face as her boy. she looks over you pointedly, your confusion evident. "i suggest you don't get involved with that girl. she's trouble. that's all. we all make mistakes at your age."

"oh, i..." your brows crease at the notion of ellie being troublesome, when you've known her to be anything but. you have heard their reasoning and nothing quite stood out to you. "i think i'll be all right, thank you dawn."

she parrots just about every other person you've seen today.

"don't thank me, just listen. stay away from her."

bizarre.

"so, last night... you were getting pretty cozy with—"

"no, i was not."

jesse and dina's efforts to find out what happened last night are all but successful. ellie has shut down any mention of it as soon as the words leave their mouths. jesse accepted that ellie was too cranky and sleepy this morning to kindly explain why she's the talk of the town again. dina isn't having much luck either.

"listen, it's just— it's no big deal," ellie says, resigning herself to the topic. "town's just making something outta nothing. like they always do."

"yuh-huh, seems people are pretty crazy over their darling," dina comments. she falls back so that her horse can trot in pace with ellie and shimmer, looking over curiously. "but tell me about... last night. what happened?"

"nothing." ellie's blunt response makes even shimmer huff, the horse shuffling through piles of wet snow. "she asked me to dance."

"with or without the palm cards?"

ellie snorts, shaking her head slowly. "you helped her."

there's a beat of silence, maybe hesitance, before dina nods. "i did. she's a sweet girl, y'know, i think she's good for you."

"are we going the right way?" ellie interrupts. the creek ends just nigh of where the two ride, no lookout in sight. she feels a challenge in leadership when taking an unfamiliar route on patrol, and this conversation is bound to give her a headache.

"yes, we are. the lookout's just over that hill." dina pauses again. "did she say anything else last night?"

ah. great. "no. she dropped the cards and gave up on whatever they said." ellie clears her throat, looking away. "i kept them, and i read them when i got home."

"right." dina lets out a sigh, now trying to gauge ellie's opinion. she doesn't sound too positive or too negative. "so you're avoiding her now? because that's what i've gathered. what's the deal surrounding—"

"i'm not.. avoiding her, i'm just playing it safe. not going to say anything about it, not gonna embarrass her. there. is that what you're interested in hearing?"

"ellie," dina scolds, "what's your goal here? eternal loneliness? is this about cat?"

ellie comes to a screeching halt at that, shimmer whinnying. "what? fuck no. i was over her before it ended."

"yeah, figured. i never really thought she was your style... too abrasive, you guys kinda clashed a little, you know, she's not like—"

"dina."

and there she goes; dina lists off your many qualities, every one oh so perfect. a list of every reason ellie wants you, and they are all reasons why she should not dare touch you.

"can't you see it? i see the potential for something great," dina boasts. "she's real into you. you're so nice to her."

"that's, like, the bare minimum."

"for you, though, it means a lot."

finally the lookout comes into view. ellie braces herself to make an abrupt end to this conversation, she's ready for this to stop.

"lookout's just ahead, we can tie the girls up here and head inside," dina confirms, sliding off her horse and watching as ellie does the same. "i'm serious, though. jesse and i worry about you and, i mean, what is it that's stopping you from asking her out?"

"dina, listen." ellie makes a serious effort to avert eye contact, to hide her expression, and even the ache in her voice. "you seen her? she's like those little fuzzy flowers that even the wind can blow away. she'd wither away if she spoke to me for more than a second. i kinda have to be nice to her."

"damn," dina says, humming softly. "that's a lot of words that sound like nothing to me. you're lying to me and you're lying to yourself. you tell little kids to fuck off, but you can't resist smiling at this girl?"

ellie's biting the inside of her cheek, following dina into the lookout. she is being sincere. it's just that dina doesn't quite know the depth of ellie's misery. she is a mystery.

ellie does not believe for a second that she will not hurt you. she is the strike of fire, an unstoppable force that can only destroy. too easily, her rage is a blaze that burns all in its path. she's sickening. she'll poison you, you'll spit her out and leave like all the others do.

"i don't know what she sees in me," ellie admits after a moment of ponder. "i'm just some asshole."

"that you are, but i think she sees what me, jesse, and even joel, see in you. you don't let anyone else in, ellie. don't you dare ice her out too."

you're like her shadow. you are just unavoidable, either by thoughts of you creeping into the corners of her mind, or just by coincidence. on days where nobody has uttered even a word to her, you never fail to wish her a good afternoon or ask how she's doing. she keeps it brief, despite her yearning to know you better.

it takes a great deal of self discipline. ellie must control herself around you. your stupid palm cards weigh on her mind all the time, those feelings you've been resigned to keeping to yourself without knowing that she knows. if ellie weren't such a goddamn coward, she could pounce. you'd be hers.

"good morning, ellie," you call, and it's early enough for ellie to internally groan but your voice is like that of a bird's aubade. "do you have a minute?"

"hm? suppose," ellie murmurs, shoes shuffling against the floor of the tipsy bison awkwardly. she's regretting her choice of converse this morning—hopefully you'll make this quick and she can run back to grab some boots before patrol. screw breakfast. "what's up?"

part of her hopes that you take as long as you like. she'd like to lose herself in your kindness before she heads out into the mountains on this brutally cold day. actually, she would like to lose herself in your kindness forever; you make ellie want to be kind, but it feels as though she lost that part of herself many years ago. she doesn't know how to be like that anymore.

she should be staying away from you. none of this hopeless searching for a piece of her old self in you.

"well, i have some questions and figured you'd be the right one to ask."

"oh? me? i'm... i mean, yeah, sure," ellie says, looking down at her fidgeting fingers. "what's it about?"

"well, you're into dinosaurs and stuff, right? what's the word again? paleon..."

"paleontology," ellie corrects, nodding her head. "who told you i'm into that?"

"uh... dina."

of course. ellie refrains from shaking her head in annoyance and lets you continue, although she is a little in her head at the moment.

"there's a couple kids showing interest in all that stuff at the moment," you say, "i was wondering if you could give me a lesson? or some reading material, if you've got any? i want to plan some activities for them."

"oh, uh, yes, uh, sure, i guess. yeah." ellie responds with a lame shrugging of her shoulders and picks at some skin around her fingernails, holding her breath as to not completely fucking freak out. this is such a dumb thing to get worked up over. your hopeful smile is everything right now. "i mean, not to brag but i've got a pretty neat collection of stuff."

seriously? way to go. ellie's aware she sounds nothing short of embarrassing right now, she's unable to resist the pull towards dumping all of her knowledge onto you. i sound sooo tough right now.

"oh, really? well i'm interested in seeing it then," you reply, giggling. "when's a good time for you to show me?"

and, just like at the dance, it feels as though everyone in this diner is staring at ellie. she knows she shouldn't be talking to you. she forgot for a moment. she forgot that she's a danger to you.

the cutting, unforgiving stare of frail mrs. brown has ellie lower her gaze, shifting on her feet again. "mm, maybe tomorrow," she mutters. "i've got patrol. i.. should probably get going. i'm gonna be late again."

"oh." you pause, somewhat puzzled by ellie's sudden nerves, how eager she is to get going. was that your fault? maybe she doesn't want to spend time together after all.

"see you later." it's offhanded and with little caution. ellie tries her damndest not to look back at you, and also to avoid eye contact with the others in the diner.

a sudden outburst directs your attention to ellie again, with her way out blocked by a self righteous mrs. brown.

"you leave that poor thing alone."

ah?

"mrs. brown, please, ellie means no harm," you say assuringly, although there is a twinge of something in your voice. something mrs. brown cannot grasp. you're not sure where this bite to your voice came from.

but it has something to do with the way ellie doesn't even look twice at you. she just slips out the door and hurries away.

"watch yourself around her, sweetpea," the older woman says to you. "she's not the kind of person to be hanging around the likes of you. not sure whether she was raised in a barn or if she's just born wrong."

"nobody is born wrong," you say. "that's horrible. you've misjudged her."

"you're naïve," mrs. brown replies sincerely. it seems like she is trying to be sincere at least—it only makes you feel small.

nobody is born wrong. nobody is bad. ellie is not bad. and nobody shall ever be able to tell you otherwise. it simply isn't true.

"we got reports of infected out west of jackson. there's a few places out there we haven't searched in a long time, maria wants it done."

jesse is already addressing the group by the time ellie rocks up, attempting to sneak in undetected with shimmer in tow, but unfortunately for her, she's served a disappointed look and handed a bolt action. he doesn't pause his speech, and honestly, it's more humiliating that way. ellie partly wishes there was some sort of remark made.

"stay with your groups, don't be an idiot, if there's anything you can't handle you come back to base. these places could be rife with infected, so be careful. are we clear?"

ellie's still rubbing sleep out of her eyes and blinking at the ground, her mind is somewhere else. you stood up for her. you did that, and she still feels so warm. you should not be wasting your time with her. she will never understand why you do.

"ellie—"

"huh?" she looks up, gaze flicking between jesse and the others around her. you've gotta be shitting me. half of these people are new to patrols. if she's got to babysit newbies this morning, she's—

"you and i are taking max, amelia, and jacob out to that great big music store by the lodge. might dig into the motel if we've got time."

"seriously? that motel's fucked. joel and i went like, what, two years ago? can't see the music store being any better," ellie protests. "why are we taking new recruits out to these shitty areas? you think they're not gonna shit their pants if they encounter a bloater?"

"ellie, calm, will you? maria wants this done, we've held off on clearing these places for a little too long. we drag our feet and eventually it will have consequences. so, we're getting it done," jesse says. he notices the others share bristling looks amongst each other and grunts. "there will not be a bloater out there. ellie's overreacting."

"oh yeah, not like joel and i killed one last time we visited the motel."

"oh good. so like i said, there won't be any bloaters out there, thanks to ellie and her old man's efforts." jesse shoots ellie one final glance of warning before readdressing the group. "are we ready to leave?"

"i'll hang back, make sure nobody's gettin' lost," ellie says. she's a lot more reserved now, the telltale sign to jesse something is truly off about his friend this morning. because ellie typically rejects any and all authority, even jesse. even joel, nowadays.

shortly after, jesse kicks off and the group follows. ellie rides behind them. shimmer gallops over yards of snow, the wind blowing back wayward strands of ellie's hair and chilling the hot blush on her cheeks. today is turning out to be a pretty shit one, but at least she has this. riding on the back of her horse will never not be soothing to her tortured soul.

as the motel comes into view, ellie lets out a sigh. as picturesque a view it is, shrouded by thick pines and sitting in solace, it leaves ellie so conflicted. it looks worse in the cold, the dilapidated building left for dead and covered in a blanket of white. whatever horrors have crept into it since her last visit, she doesn't want to know.

ellie doesn't want to visit the music store. she never got to see what was in there with joel. even thinking about it makes her stomach lurch, and if it weren't for her skipping breakfast earlier, she would be struggling to keep it in. fucking joel.

this place is a myriad of discomforting memories.

"ellie, is it really true that you and joel found a bloater in that motel?"

jacob has slowed his pace to match her, looking on with a glimmer of what looks like excitement in his eyes—ellie hopes it's not excitement. else this kid's looking to get killed.

"yes," she mutters, brows knit and eyes narrowed into slits. "we dealt with it. these things are rare, y'know, and there's nothing to be excited about. unless you want your head ripped off."

"holy shit." he giggles through the curse, his enthusiasm unmatched by amelia and max's unbridled terror. "sounds gnarly."

"sure." ellie scoffs, looking away. can't stand to watch this kid act so stupidly, can't even stand to bitch at him for it.

if only she weren't so privy to the grim sights of this world. must be nice.

jesse comes to an abrupt stop, looking back at the group. "you hear that?"

from a small cluster of retail stores, a nefarious rattling echoes the courtyard. ellie meets jesse's eyes and nods. "clicker."

"how many? we should probably clear this place out, right?" jacob cuts in, his boisterous voice startling the whole group.

"will you shut the fuck up?" ellie glares at jacob.

"there might be some supplies inside," amelia suggests, and she does not want to run the risk of pissing ellie off either, so she keeps her voice down.

"sounds like it's not too hectic. we'll take a look," jesse decides, steering the group towards the stores, where they all get down and begin to scope out the area.

ellie is eternally thankful to have a slow start to patrol today. two clickers, one runner, and a group of four on patrol with her—that's nothing special to start with. the threat is eliminated in no time, and now's only a matter of looking for supplies or interesting items to take back.

nothing is of much interest to ellie. it's an odd combination of stores; some kind of boutique, an overgrown flower shop, and a pet store.

ellie cannot help but think of you when her eyes first take in the flower shop. sage vines covering the walls, inside and out, the flowers rotted. it's all dead, which gives her a little jolt and she makes a quiet but self deprecating remark about how much of an idiot she is—such a romantic, huh?

but that's it, isn't it? she can't resist any longer. this place would be utterly bewitching in the springtime. she knows without a doubt in her mind you would love to see it. she remembers that you once said you've not left jackson's walls since you arrived some years ago.

now she feels this devastating pull towards taking you here one day. perhaps when the weather's warmer, she'll ask. you would like that. she might need some liquid courage to do so, if the dance last week says anything about how suave ellie can be.

"i'm such a fucking loser." ellie does her best to shake the thoughts of you away. but one step inside the boutique and new thoughts flood in. many of the pieces in here are barely intact, barely any of it to her personal tastes. but she knows someone who would love it.

a shade of baby pink catches her eye and she reaches out to look at the sundress, fingers travelling down the side seam. it's in the clearance section, a ripped up sign reading, 'end of summer sale' above the hanger. she snorts, yet pulls away from it like it's stung her, or as though she fears she's tarnished the dress somehow.

"what an ugly piece of fashion," she murmurs, laughing shakily as if her face is not blooming the same colour as the dress; leaving it behind as if she didn't just picture you wearing it.

when she walks out of the boutique ellie hears amelia ask jesse if they're ready to head to the music store finally. she sighs heavily and climbs onto shimmer's back, staring ahead blankly as they set off once more.

this is when things become troublesome, she already knows it. the music store creaks and rickets by just the breeze hitting it, and she can already hear the strangled cries of runners and clickers hanging out inside.

"there's a mighty old checkpoint in that cabin to the right," jesse comments, sliding off his horse and looking to the group. "ellie, can you take someone to sign us in?"

"yeah. sure. whoever's coming, i don't care, just follow me."

jesse scowls as she simply starts riding to the cabin. he calls after her quickly, "join back as soon as possible. amelia's coming."

that was, at least, the best option out of the three. amelia isn't insufferable. she seems to handle patrol with the level of sensibility it requires.

"so did you and joel clear the music store too, or just the motel?" amelia asks, watching ellie dust off the logbook.

"nah, just the motel. we were trying to get here, didn't make it. found some bodies, went straight home."

ellie cringes, quite visibly at that, remembering the day in such detail. her heart ached as though she was burning alive. she knew he was lying.

"oh, right, i remember that," amelia says. "that was tragic."

ellie doesn't say anything. the room falls silent as she signs the logbook, once again tripping over the never ending trails of thought that appear in her mind. if only they were immune, right?

it's significantly more troubling to cope with these thoughts in her head because nobody else even knows. nobody gets it. there's no other person on earth with the same questions as ellie, and the only person who could answer some of her questions dismisses them within an instant.

she can't help but feel hate for joel for what he did. he took away her birthright; he ruined the sole meaning of her life, and she'll never quite understand why.

ellie wanted to save people. she is beyond just worthless now that joel has taken this from her—she's a ticking time bomb. she hurts people, she hurts herself. with less than ten percent of jackson's population actually willing to befriend her, ellie does the most that she can to protect them now.

it's why she throws herself into the most unsavoury, unsafe situations on patrol.

she can't help but wonder what the lives of everyone she knows would be like if she had been given her choice.

"hey you." jesse's waiting by the door of the music store when ellie and amelia arrive back.

"what's the situation?" ellie asks immediately upon catching her friend's worried look, the way that he stands with his back straight and shoulders tense.

"runners and stalkers around every goddamn corner. we were waiting for you two to come back so we can take care of it. we're debating whether or not to call for backup. i heard some clickers, it just might be too intense for these guys alone."

"ah." she takes note of max and jacob, conspiring something quietly together (rather, jacob elbowing max, and max replying in anxious whispers). "hey, the fuck's your deal?"

"someone's scared," jacob teases, giving max an aggressive noogie on the head. "i think we should just go deal with it. it's not a big deal. max is too much of a pussy."

"jacob, stop it man," jesse mutters, his eyes reading of warning.

"it'll be much quicker if we just handle it now," he replies errantly. "let's go."

"no, let's—"

without waiting, jacob drags a thrashing max past the doorway and into the shop. instantly the screams of infected sound like an alarm and the group is forced into action, ellie throwing herself in first.

violence consumes the area in sound, in sights, in the adrenaline that courses through ellie's veins. not only is it a handful of rogue runners and stalkers, but the familiar, uncouth screeching of a clicker grows closer. her ears ring, gunshots bouncing off the walls, her heart pounds, each step forward thudding against bloodstained hardwood.

"over here! help!"

ellie's eyes dart across the room and max is struggling against a runner, too busy fighting the crazed monster to reach for his gun.

when ellie reaches the boy, she yanks the runner and the barrel of her pistol meets his head. everything in the room is eerily silent now, nothing but panting breaths, and max falling on the floor in front of ellie.

"all quiet," jesse says with a sigh. he's wiping blood off his face and checking with amelia and jacob before they hear a gun cocking, a sudden commotion.

"no, no, please!"

it's max, scrambling away from ellie, whose gun is pointed at his face. the reason why she is doing this is bleeding. jesse can see it too, on max's hand; bright red puncture wounds, dripping onto the floor.

he's bit.

and he's begging.

"woah, woah, woah, let's handle this appropriately—"

the boy begins to cry. max is cowering. if only he were immune, right?

if only.

it's too much for her. ellie looks away, and she pulls the trigger. she grimaces as the cries silence on instant, nothing but a vile gurgling echoing. she doesn't dare to look down at him, she doesn't want to see his brain matter against the drum set behind him, nor the way his blood oozes out and seeps into the floorboards.

she's not even brave enough to look at the rest of the group—the living ones—she's done this in front of them. this boy didn't get to go out with dignity, she took out her own fury on him. he doesn't deserve that.

"fuck, i—"

"it's okay, ellie, look at me," jesse coaches, slowly stepping closer. he takes the pistol from her. it's not okay.

"what the fuck is wrong with you man?" jacob storms over, a mask of anger in his narrowed eyes, but he's shaking too. everyone's fucking scared of her. she fucked up. "you don't get to—"

instead of succumbing to letting this teenager scream at her, ellie defies him, jabbing a finger in his direction immediately. "don't you take that tone with me. if you never pushed him in here, he'd still be here."

"hey, hey! calm. everyone. let's just go back. we'll take max home."

ellie wonders if jesse likes her a little less now. he's never seen her do something so cruel. she barely listens to him speak. she feels such a failure.

amelia won't look at her. jacob looks as though the scene has aged him years.

god, ellie thinks, i fucked up.

ellie gets home. she stands in front of the medicine cabinet, swiping a damp cloth over her cheek. she watches the blood spray disappear from her skin, and she can't look herself in the eye.

she may be immune, but she's still infected. where is her humanity? why was it her? at this rate, what is she here for? what makes her any different from the infection that would have claimed max? ellie was supposed to save people. she was supposed to be different. but she feels the same as them—everywhere she turns, someone is hurt or killed, it often tends to be at her own hand.

she is a monster.

she doesn't hear the door creak open, so the call of her name surprises her quite suddenly. it's a voice she has no interest in hearing from right now—it's southern, gravelly, and low.

"so i heard about what happened, and uh... had to come check on ya."

"i'm fine, joel." he gives her that look she is, unfortunately, used to seeing from him. the honest disbelief. so ellie opens her mouth again and this time it's with a little more sternness. "seriously."

god, she's sick of the pity. joel suffocates her. however well he means, ellie can't trust him anymore. she can't just forget, and this is the first time he has ever disrespected the space she's put between them. "well, i just... carryin' out an execution... it's hard. i know. and however the town may try to spin it, it don't mean—"

"joel, i need you to stop," ellie warns. she turns away but she still sees him in the mirror. she still sees herself in the mirror. her brows carve a nasty, cold look into her gaze, her lips almost snarling.

that boy was going to die whether or not ellie had interfered. but what messes with her mind the most is how indecently she did it. he was crying. she didn't let him say goodbye, nor write sentiments to his family. she shot him like a dog. she killed him as though he had already turned.

"you are awfully quiet these days ellie, i'm just worried about you and—"

"i'm supposed to be dead, joel," ellie growls. her hands grip either side of the sink and she leans against it, looking at the discarded face towel. "this would've never happened if you never— if you never—"

"but you're not dead, now don't you talk like that." joel's voice is getting harder and he's leaning against the doorway now, suddenly closer than ellie thought. "none of this is on you. it was never on you. this is just life. and you keep findin' purpose. these things, they happen to everyone. it is not on you."

"no," ellie whispers. "it's on you now. you fucking— you did this. he would be cured if you left me in that stupid hospital."

joel stares at the side of ellie's face. he catches the way her lips quiver and she's shut her eyes now. he sighs very softly, almost as if he doesn't want to upset her any further, and then looks at his shoes.

"i'm not gonna go over this again," ellie says, standing straight again. "i never wanna talk to you. we're done."

joel pauses, opening and closing his mouth. there is so much to say. when you have spent two years like him, thinking, wondering what he could even say to make her feel better, there is a lot on the tip of your tongue. but she doesn't want to hear it, and joel knows that. so he nods.

"all right."

the snow around ellie's garage is tracked with large footprints. your gaze follows them to mr. miller's porch across the yard and your brows raise as you realise he's sat there with his legs kicked up and a warm drink in hand, a misty cloud of steam billowing out of the mug. he nods in acknowledgement of your presence, and you respond with a friendly smile, before taking a small breath and knocking on ellie's door.

"ellie?" you call hesitantly. finally you hear some noise from inside, as if she'd been holding breath and trying to pretend she wasn't there in the first place.

the door pulls back and ellie looks at you unsurely. she looks tired. sheepish.

"hi, are you doing okay?" truth be told, the news of what happened on ellie's patrol today has shaken you. it's spread around town like fire, and the story seems to be getting more and more hyperbolic along the way. so, you've come to the source. "i heard about what happened, and—"

the frigid wind creeps into ellie's place and a shiver runs down her spine. she crosses her arms to preserve her own warmth, observing you and your persistent trembling, along with joel on his porch. she grunts, taking you by the arm and pulling you inside.

"it's, y'know, cold out there," she mutters, closing the door behind you and sighing. "just, uh, sit down."

your eyes follow ellie's hand, gesturing to the tattered grey loveseat, close to her heater and looking pretty cozy. you sit, and ellie stares at your poor choice of attire—it looks like you did nothing but layer a pink parka over your pyjamas. she's running on fumes but still makes quick work of grabbing a blanket. she doesn't want to startle you with it, and instead keeps her hands as light as possible when covering your legs with it.

"it's pretty cold, huh?" she murmurs.

it's nice. you want to put your hand on her wrist and bring her closer, to offer something sweet, but she looks so discontented. uncomfortable.

"are you doing okay?" you ask again. no matter how hard you try to catch her earthy eyes with yours, she dodges. she's shifty. "um, about what happened on your patrol... i don't really know the full story, or if what everyone says is even true... but i don't like to let what other people say impact my judgement of someone's character."

"it's not— i mean, i— you know, everyone's right. i'm an asshole," ellie mumbles, crossing her arms again, but this time it's a more desperate grabbing of her hoodie, as though comforting herself. or attempting to.

because you're so close, but she feels like you are just out of reach. she can't seek comfort in you. she wants to. but her mind tells her that is not a good idea.

"oh, ellie... no," you whisper. "you're not."

"you don't know me," she replies. perhaps if she is earnest about who she is to you, it will scare you away. it might save you. no more pretending to be nice just to keep you.

"i know more than any of those people who spread rumours about you." you stand up and the blanket falls forgotten on the ground. her eyes widen as you come closer, and she takes a step back. "but you hide yourself, that's why nobody sees how great you are. even me, i.. wish i could know you better."

what ellie wants to say, is no, you don't want to know me better. you shouldn't. there is no greatness, only fragmented pieces of what once was someone bright and empathic, someone who still had hope. maybe she didn't turn in the physical sense when she was infected. but her life went through a turning of its own, her mind suffering the worst of it.

maybe the only difference between her and those things outside is that she doesn't sprout colourful tendrils. she's as dangerous and as deadly as they are. she bites, too; her words hurt, and she has become apathetic.

and the reason she can't let you in—well, she won't be able to let go of you once she gets her hands on you. she'll eat you up and what she fears the most is that you'll run away hurting. you'll leave her, and she'll have maimed you.

and to be the one to have maimed you will be the worst of it all. ellie is still feeling every ache from her past, and she finds you so refreshing. you're a clean slate, like fresh soil in early spring, untainted and full of potential. she doesn't want to turn you into her.

she might not be contagious, but the chaos that surrounds her is. at the softest, your reputation will be destroyed by her mere presence, and at the strongest, you will be wilted.

"i take it that maybe you've been hurting before," you say, filling the silence she had contemplated through. "i don't want to overstep. i just wanna be there for you. like— y'know, like, you don't have to talk about it. but you have me."

after a beat, ellie quickly responds, nodding, but staring at the floor. "thanks."

"and about today; it doesn't change my opinion of you. these things happen. it's sad. i knew him... but i know he would've rathered you do what you did, than turn into one of those things." you nod back, very affirmatively, and try a small smile, even if she won't see. "going on patrol is a great service to our community. it's really great that you do. it's one of the hardest jobs and it puts you in situations that require quick decision-making. people focus on the negatives all the time, like what happened today—but they don't focus on the fact that you're protecting us all the time."

when ellie glances up, mainly out of some surprise, she finds that your smile matches the sweetness of your words exactly. it's... puzzling. it challenges the chill in the garage, because ellie can feel her cheeks getting warm. and she absolutely fucking hates that.

blushing in front of you. blushing because of you. the more she thinks about it, the more she's probably reddening. like a rose.

"thanks, again, i, uh..." she trails off, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a shaking hand. she sniffles awkwardly and then coughs to attempt at covering it up. she feels juvenile like this. "anyway... so, how about... i give you a crash course on dinosaurs?"

caught off-guard, only to remember early in the morning when you had asked ellie to indulge in a tutorial on paleontology so you could better interact with the little ones in the daycare. "yes! yeah, of course."

she chuckles lowly, rubbing her eye quickly as if trying to regain her stoicism. "cool, let's—"

you couldn't help it. you know when someone needs a hug, and you feel ellie needs one more than anyone else. especially in this moment. so you rushed forward, and now your arms are around her shoulders, and your head on her shoulder. she's like a statue, her hands raised with hesitance. they twitch. it's with the need to grab your waist, but the fear of letting herself get too addicted.

she gives in. maybe it would hurt you more if she didn't, than if she did. is she a monster for it if you were the one to initiate it?

her nose rests in your hair, her arms squeeze you tight. she doesn't let it go on for too long, patting the curve of your lower back gently and pulling back to grab some of her dinosaur books.

the hour that follows is the easiest and fastest of her entire life. you look at ellie like she hung the stars in the sky. she likes that you listen, and that you ask clarifying questions, and that your thighs are touching hers. she makes you laugh, and she can't stop, because she likes it.

when ellie climbs into her bed after walking you back home, she finds herself surprised, and maybe a little hot on the temper. joel's voice plays like a tape on repeat. irritating. and starting to make sense.

"this is just life. and you keep findin' purpose."

　　　　　　　　　SPRING.

birds chatter in the sky. it's warm out. the kind of warm that is just right, where the sun highlights the shapes of the trees and shines through the leaves. it's only early in the season, still breezy most days, but the snow has melted, and the flora is beginning to maintain itself again, colour crawling back into jackson.

this is so fucking stupid.

"ellie! hi!" the familiar chirp of your voice brings heat to ellie's face, even in the dying chill. you have such a pleasant, polite lilt, it's no wonder you are beloved around here. "...you're loitering."

"what? oh. uh— yeah. sorta." she needs to be more careful, too much staring and not enough vigilance. ellie realises she looks odd standing outside the kindergarten house. "i just.. do you have a minute?"

"me? of course."

and ellie doesn't hear you, but she gets the point anyway. she is really too busy eyeing your lips and the small smile on them as you lead her to a blind spot.

"how's your day?"

is she really doing this right now? like, really? does she need to? the town notice board suddenly feels a lot more interesting now that you're in front of her. that, or the fresh leaves hanging by threads on the trees nearby. ellie has a deep appreciation for the new colours that bloom during springtime and—

"ellie? i asked how you're doing. are you okay?"

she's stalling this conversation.

"oh. oh! yeah, it's uh, it's alright." she scoffs awkwardly and rubs the back of her neck. "i just... well, i made something for you, thought you'd like it. i hope you like it."

"wait, really?" your eyes light up like a sky full of stars, but ellie thinks they're even prettier than that. "that's so sweet of you. can i see?"

sweet. you think she's sweet. shit. "yeah, yea, here."

without wasting more time fumbling over words (in reality, ellie forgot the speech she made up for this occasion—maybe she could've used your scripting idea right now) she hands over the gift, free hand rubbing the back of her neck as she pretends to nonchalantly stare elsewhere, yet her eyes flick towards you obsessively. please like it.

it's a watercolour piece. the colours are subtle, muted greens and browns, the rest varying shades of white, grey, and black, plus a pop of pink. depicted is a lush garden, pink flowers dotted between weaves of grass, and in the centre, two rabbits.

it isn't her usual style. ellie's appreciated landscapes before, but something so simple, so clean and contained, she's never been into. but she wanted to give you something she knew you'd love.

your brows raise and you cover your mouth, letting out a gasp. your eyes don't leave the paper, staring at every detail. you couldn't find an imperfection even if you tried.

"this is beautiful."

"yeah..?"

"i love it." your lips curl upwards and you're pretty much bouncing up and down on your heels. "it's so cute! i love the colours, and the flowers too! i love flowers. did you know there's a whole flower language?"

"uh, no," ellie murmurs, "what's that about? how does one talk through flowers?"

the word cute runs through her mind. of course you'd know about a 'flower language'.

"well, each flower has symbolism tied to it. even the different colours—a pink rose means something different to a white rose, for example," you explain. "my grandma taught me when i was younger. she gave me a book about it."

all this talk about flowers reminds ellie of the overgrown shop she saw on patrol a few months back. the day was dark, but you made it better. even the few moments she had thought about you were memorable.

like that sundress. in fact, she still thinks of it often.

"huh. sounds interesting," ellie replies.

"most red or pink flowers symbolise some kind of love. roses are the most romantic of all."

oh. ellie glances down to the paper in your hand, at the pink flowers she had so carefully dabbled into the picture. she hopes you won't read into that too much.

"thank you for this," you say, interrupting her mini-panic. "this painting is so pretty. you're a talented artist."

"ah, it's nothing," ellie says softly back.

"hey, i remembered your birthday's coming up soon. you don't have any plans, or..? any presents you'd like to receive?" you ask. "i love that you're a spring baby. that's so cute."

what? ellie chokes a little, for no reason other than lame shock, and shrugs her shoulders. "ah, i dunno, not really. i never do anything. don't care about gifts."

"reaaaally?" you ask, huffing in disappointment. although, an idea is beginning to thread itself together.

"yeah, i'm not really big on that stuff anymore," ellie says, waving off your concern. "anyway, ah, i should let you get back to the kiddies."

"yeah, of course."

you look like you're going to come close, and ellie's started to recognise when you're wanting to hug her now. she lets it happen. she actively ensures that you know it's okay to do that. as long as there's nobody around to see.

and right now, just as you pull her close, the moment coincides with the children being let out to the playground for recess. fucking goddamnit. she flushes instantly and almost pushes you away.

when she dares to open her eyes, the attendant on the duty of watching the kids is watching you more than them. it's disconcerting. but it has an adverse effect on her. she squeezes you tighter, and closes her eyes.

she's becoming what she feared. she wants you, and she's letting herself indulge. she's gluttonous. or is she? for no longer denying herself the pleasure in holding you for a few moments longer than usual?

"you made her so happy yesterday."

"huh?"

"dina and i heard all about it."

"what the fuck are you talking about?"

"you know exactly what i'm talking about," jesse answers, a smug grin on his face. ellie's only filled with dread.

her hackles are raised, she's rushing to defend herself. such a strong reaction, and it leaves jesse with more questions than answers, but answers are rare with ellie in the first place. "yeah, so what, i drew something, and i gave it to my friend. you can't give me shit about that."

he nods his head to ellie's place at her desk, where she has an art book open and a few discarded sketches strewn about that clearly she deemed unworthy of your viewing.

jesse snorts. "i'm not giving you shit about it. i'm just saying"—he elbows ellie lightly—"that it made her really happy. and it looks like... you're making her another one."

she rubs her side, frowning, and tilting her head. "it wasn't too intense? didn't freak her out?"

"giving a girl you like a painting is the least intense move you could possibly make."

"i do not like her like that," ellie mutters, scowling. "don't you have something better to do than to harass me?"

looks can betray words sometimes. that is exactly what is happening here; ellie's freckles are dusted pink, the colour blooming all the way towards the tips of her ears.

"you like her," jesse insists. "you know, when you're so deadpan about everything it makes it all the more obvious you've got a crush. you didn't even act this way around cat."

"because i barely liked her," ellie mutters bluntly, "we dated out of convenience."

"and now..." jesse continues, leaving room for ellie to fill in the blank, but she rolls her eyes and he chuckles before finishing the sentence himself. "you've got a crush on the little ol' sweetheart of jackson."

"okay, and what am i supposed to do when everyone tells me to stay back? i'm not right for her," ellie replies. her voice is subdued in such a way jesse's never heard before. it's so honest. ellie realises it too. she's being open, for once.

"you care too much what others think," jesse says. he leans against the desk, arms crossed. "if their opinions mattered, she would've taken their advice and avoided you like the plague."

"i think the girl's fucking insane, personally." ellie clicks her tongue, dropping her pencil reluctantly. she knows why you don't listen to anyone else. you've told her many times, yet she still thinks you're a little crazy for that. stubborn, at the very least.

"what's this?" jesse asks, picking up a forgotten sketch by ellie's arm. "this is... not your style."

ellie glances up, and grunts softly. "no, you remember the dress store out by the motel? i saw this dress there. i think it would look real nice on her."

"oh... yeah? yeah i can see that," he comments, looking at the sketch. "what do you say we go back there and get it?"

"i don't want to go back there."

"not even for something you know she'd really love? come on... we won't take a group this time, it'll be you and me. we'll grab the dress and come back," jesse says. "i'll rearrange the roster tonight and have us take that route in the morning."

"you are shit at persuasion," ellie grumbles, "you're just forcing me."

"it's for a good cause," he replies, patting her on the shoulder quite firmly. "head to bed now, we're up early tomorrow mornin' so get some rest."

ellie sighs deeply, not bothering to look back as the door closes. "dick," she murmurs, yet her eyes fall back to the paper jesse had left on the desk.

she imagines it again; the pink sundress, flattering your body, how your eyes would twinkle and face would glow in it, and how the skirt would flow if you twirled. unfortunately, it's not a want anymore; it's a need.

she's admitting things now. ellie likes that you are open. she'd like to let herself be vulnerable like you.

"are you sure she's going to like it?"

dina scoffs at the question, an incredulous look in her eyes as they meet yours. "are you serious? of course she will. you've overanalysed this so much that there is no room for improvement."

your shoulders drop and you remind yourself to unclench your jaw, take a deep breath. "i know, but i just want to be sure. what if she doesn't want to be taken by surprise?"

"she likes surprises. used to, anyway. i doubt that has changed," dina says coolly. "last time she ever had a birthday she really enjoyed was her sixteenth. joel took her to this sick museum outside of town."

you nod along. "yeah, i know. she told me about it. a few times, actually. i don't want anything too big and crazy because it might overwhelm her, but i— i can't just let her do nothing on her birthday."

"and you've achieving that perfectly," dina reminds you. "it's low-key. it's at her place. you're making her a cake. you've invited... who? me, jesse, and yourself?"

"well, i was thinking about inviting joel." you bite your lip, wringing your hands together. "is that a bad idea?"

dina doesn't seem to hear you. she's messing with her beat up record player, groaning and muttering curses over the fact that it won't work.

so much of your attention since yesterday has been held by this idea. you quickly asked dina and jesse their thoughts, assuming they know the girl better than you do at this point. every aspect of your plan was approved of. because the plan is derived from every little thing you have learned and internalised about ellie.

she's quiet, she's private, and not interested in doing much. therefore, something small at her garage will do. she's into action movies, so a movie marathon is perfect. you're going to craft some paper crowns with dina as she mentioned that was a win on one of ellie's previous birthdays, although you initially wanted to make her a flower crown.

when you aren't spending exhausting hours with small children at the daycare, all you really have left to do in your life is think. it's so quiet.

ellie gives you a lot to think about. when you bake a new recipe, you wonder if she'll like it. when you ever feel a little lonely, you wonder if ellie would let you hug her for as long as you needed.

they say a friend to all is a friend to none, and you feel it's true. are you interesting enough? are you too soft, too tame for anyone to befriend? what started a simple crush—thinking she's pretty, wanting to learn everything about her—snowballed. ellie's the closest thing you have to what you need. she fills a hole that was dug years ago. you feel it has potential. it's like a rich soil, seedlings sown, and desperate to be watered. you know the finest rose garden could grow from it in the colour of blush.

wanting to give her a good birthday is a no-brainer.

on your way back home, a bag full of crafting materials and some flour and butter you picked up from the twin sisters grocer to bake the cake with, you take in a breath of spring air. it's fresh. excitement buzzes in your bones. you want to see her smile.

you stumble upon joel as you make your way down your street, lugging a backpack with him, and you think that perhaps he just got back from patrol. that means ellie might be back, too. it's late afternoon, but the sun hasn't set yet—days are starting to grow longer again.

"mr. miller! how are you?" you ask, stopping before him.

"not too bad," joel replies. "feelin' my age after patrol, you know how it is... and how are you?"

"i'm good," you say, nodding.

"and ellie? you two are friends and i ain't seen her much lately, so i, ah... had to ask."

a more reserved smile falls on your lips and you nod again. of the many mysteries you still haven't been able to sleuth out about ellie, the one that puzzles you most is joel. is it overstepping to tell joel how she's doing right now? is it an even bigger mistake to invite him to her birthday..?

he cares so deeply about her.

"she's doing alright," you say. "about that, i'm planning a little surprise get-together for her birthday, only a few of us are going, and you could come too, if you'd like?"

"ah, no, no, that's okay." joel shakes his head and looks down at you. he couldn't be more satisfied with anyone storming their way into ellie's life than you. "you kids have fun, i'm not sure it's my place to go."

you blink, but nod. "of course. it would still be fun if you came along! but it's up to you."

"yeah, i'll think about it. uh... you take care of her for me, okay?"

this time, you nod firmly. "i will."

going back to the boutique felt like closure.

ellie had tossed and turned all night, memories of death and infection filing in with unstoppable force. she worried something could go wrong again. she worried her mind wouldn't be in the right place to be on patrol. but numbers of infected always seem to dwindle in warmer months, and these buildings were cleared months ago now. all she and jesse had to handle today were two runners.

it was relaxing, actually. it was slow. ellie packed the dress carefully into her bag, made sure nothing could soil it or tear it, not even her own fingerprints, as she had made sure to clean them before touching it.

and she was right, the flower shop in spring was blossoming with colour. it solidified a goal in her mind—she will make sure that you see it before the season ends.

this is the difficult part. the hardest part of the entire day, to be honest; giving you the dress.

"i hope that this isn't too weird," ellie mutters, rubbing the back of her neck. her sheepish face tints red, and she chuckles awkwardly. "i found this on patrol and i thought you would really like it. i thought you'd look.. pretty.. in it."

the second she hands it to you, you gasp. it's just like with the painting—good signs immediately. and ellie almost doesn't want to let go of the dress, but she lets you take it from her.

"ellie! this is gorgeous! thank you, thank you, thank you—" you're hugging the goddamn dress, and she laughs a little, only to be hugged with such force it feels like more of a tackle. "i've never seen anything like it!"

she knows you. that's the real gift. she knew you'd love it. she gave you a painting she knew you would like. she looks for things you'll like. you hope that she'll understand the thought behind her party tomorrow the same way you understand the thought behind her small gifts, too.

ellie buries her smile into your hair, holding you close. "i'm glad you like it."

"you're acting so weird today," ellie says, narrowing her eyes at jesse. "by the way, have you seen—"

"no idea where she's at," jesse mumbles, yet the dumb smile in his voice reveals more than intended.

"you're up to something weird," ellie says with a scoff.

"i am not, how dare you suggest that?" jesse gasps melodramatically, pushing ellie along the sidewalk. "come on stupid."

ellie doesn't look forward to her birthday so much anymore. it's the same every year now. but she can't lie and say she wasn't looking forward to seeing you today, knowing you'd sweeten it.

but she hasn't seen you all day, that's the thing—ellie hasn't made it this long without talking to you for a long time. even in the mornings before her longer, more strenuous patrols, she passes by the kindergarten house to see you.

she's almost feeling a withdrawal right now.

"we're watching every curtis and viper movie in chronological order," ellie declares as they reach joel's backyard, mere feet away from the garage. "hey, is dina coming too? i haven't seen her either. everyone's... quiet."

"i don't know."

"you're— she's your fucking girlfriend, buster, how do you not know where she is?" ellie pokes jesse's shoulder and he snorts.

"i don't know."

"you won't know anything anymore once i punch you in the face," she mutters. "you're not slick. you're up to something."

jesse chuckles again and shoves ellie up to her door. "hurry up. maybe you're about to find all the answers to your questions."

ellie pushes jesse back—because she needs the last laugh in every encounter—and then finally grasps her doorknob. she all but charges in, then stops in her tracks.

forget dina, forget the cake, forget the awkwardly cheered 'happy birthday', her eyes are on you immediately.

in the dress she gifted you.

the fabric cascades down to your ankles, the milkmaid bodice laced tight. ellie's never seen this style of dress around jackson before. it's something unique, something rare.

you look even more delicious than that cake. she's hot under the collar, rolling up the sleeves of her flannel and smiling shyly.

"hey, guys... what the fuck?"

"surprise?" you say, giggling a bit. and never does ellie want to act like this in front of jesse and dina, but it's her damn birthday, so she'll let herself have this—she rushes forward to hold you close. it makes you giggle even more. she giggles too.

dina approaches with two of the paper crowns, already wearing one herself, and places one atop your head, and hands you the other when ellie finally lets you go. you're quick to crown ellie, pushing some hair out of her face.

she can't remember a time she grinned or laughed as much in a long time. it feels like her heart is swelling in her chest, and it's a little sickening. the heavy ebb almost distracts her, but she doesn't get too lost before you're handing her a knife and leading her to the cake.

"cake and a movie marathon sound good?"

even looking at the cake makes ellie feel full. it's a simple spongecake with a jam and cream filling, some white icing over the top with a heart painted on top out of jam.

"you made this?" she clarifies. when you nod, she does the same. "fuck yeah. you're the best baker i know."

"thank you," you mumble. "hurry; make a wish. i'm gonna light a candle."

ellie watches you dig a little candle into the centre. you can feel her, those leafy eyes boring into your figure as you take a lighter to the wick. you hope she makes a wish as she closes her eyes and blows softly.

ellie, jesse, and dina sit on the bed with a plate of cake each. you haven't got yourself a slice yet or even sat down, busy doting on them and putting on the first movie.

you take jesse and dina's empty plates back to the sink, washing them hastily before coming back to see if ellie's finished yet. instead, she pats the spot on the bed beside her. her slice is half-finished.

"come here and relax," she murmurs. "off your feet."

you shrug your shoulders and sit on the edge of the bed. there's this sudden shyness, and ellie realises you've been on your feet tending to everyone's needs because you physically can't help yourself from it.

she's right on the money. there's some anxiety in not being able to satisfy everyone.

"you've done enough." ellie takes your arm and pulls you closer, then takes her spoon and scoops up a bit of cake for you. "here."

you snort softly, parting your lips. she feeds it to you with gentleness, a focus more on you than the movie. and she can't help shivering at your frosting-covered lips or the way you look in that dress. like a rose, radiant and well cared for.

ellie sets the empty plate on her nightstand when she's done feeding you, and she strategically wraps her arm around you so that you won't get up again. it's quite funny how the action makes you sink into her chest. she hopes that you can't hear how fast her heart is beating.

ellie hopes for a lot of things lately, and it's all to do with you.

"you're cuddly," she whispers. "like a little kitten."

you let out a quiet chuckle in response to that, nuzzling closer. ellie's so warm. her hands are warm, thankfully not clammy, though. her breath on the top of your head is warm. her damn face is hot again. flushed.

she hasn't thought about her immunity at all since the party started. you make her feel normal.

the sun bleeds through the trees that line the park, a slight warmth cutting into the crisp air that you wish you could bathe in until the end of time. ellie stands a hairsbreadth away from you, walking side by side in slowness and silence.

after five lame eighties action movies, dina and jesse decided to head off on their own late into the night. they had left you with ellie, who couldn't keep the smile off her face when you said you wouldn't mind watching one more for her.

life in jackson is busier than it looks and you as well as ellie are accustomed to waking quite early. she needed to clear her head, and you invited her along on a morning walk. ellie said yes, and now realises that she severely underestimated how hard it would be to stop herself from holding your hand.

you spent time on her. effort. it was small, but more than she anticipated, and she can't help but think, why? why would you waste your time like this? on her?

"are you okay?" you ask, breaking the quiet with a light voice, but a heavy question. "did you like the party thing? i wasn't sure..."

"oh, you're kidding? i loved it, kitten. i promise." kitten. it's a thing now, ellie announced it when you woke. she smiles your way, stopping so you can catch up to her.

you let out the breath you're holding, nodding. your expression feels flatter than usual, noticeable enough for ellie to pick up on, and she moves closer. she's never seen you down. maybe down isn't the right word—what ellie grasps is some kind of insecurity.

"hey, what's wrong?"

her arm passes over your shoulder and she tugs you into her side. it's so gentle, like you're being wrapped up in a blanket. that's how she makes you feel sometimes. ellie's like a fire, the comforting crackling and passionate heat that makes you feel safe in the winter. she's like a bed, cozy and protecting—maybe a fort is a better analogy. she's built these unbreakable walls around her that block others out, and confuse you, but she's opened the stronghold to you.

"it's okay," you say, leaning closer into her arms. your hand squeezes her bicep, and in turn she holds you tighter. she cups the back of your head in her palm. "you're really quiet all the time, you know..."

"oh," ellie murmurs. as much as she loves this—listening to you, holding you, thinking of you—she's on the lookout for prying eyes. it isn't because she hates to be seen this way, not anymore. it's because she can't. she can't bear to let another person see her with you anymore. they think she's hurting you, and she'd like to believe she isn't, but she's not sure anymore. "uh... i- i just... don't know what to say."

"i like it when you tell me what's on your mind," you say. it's just quietly whispered against her ear, it tickles her neck. your nose rubs against the bristling skin, and she feels how you inhale her scent. "can you do that for me?"

ellie feels her heart stutter. you feel it too, and feel the most minuscule pang of regret for asking something like that of her. of course you know it's hard for ellie to do. but that doesn't put your mind at ease.

"do you.. wanna sit down? there's a bench... just over there, let's go sit down." ellie rushes you to the park bench, sitting beside you. she runs a hand through her hair, opening and closing her mouth a few times. she knows you're waiting for something. anything. "you know, maybe i'm just not used to people wasting their time for me the way you do... and you keep ignoring every warning. maybe i shouldn't have let you get close."

you were going to let her speak. you honestly did want to hear whatever she has to say—but this?

"that's dumb," you mutter. "those people don't know you. i mean— they don't know me either."

"but they know that i'm an asshole," she counters. "and you're not. i'm... i'm sorry, okay?"

"for what, ellie?" you ask softly. you tilt your head to catch her gaze when she lowers her head to the ground. "there is nothing to be sorry for. those people don't know anything about either of us. it's not their place to decide if you're allowed to touch me. god, they act like you're— you're sick, or something. infected."

"yeah," she sighs. she glances up at you again, shrugging her shoulders. "i guess i'm worried that i'm hurting you somehow. that i might, in the future, hurt you."

"i don't think you're capable."

ellie sighs again. she looks at you, the stubborn knit of your brows close together, the small frown on your lips. "i don't want to hurt you."

"that's all i care about," you reply. "i know you don't want to. i know you. and i want to know more. but i can only know as much as you'll let me. i want you to tell me what's on your mind. to just— try. please?"

she nods. "okay."

there's so much that ellie wishes she could tell you.

she clears her throat again, vision focusing on your fidgeting hand. she thoughtlessly covers your hand with her own to stop you, her thumb rubbing over your cool skin. "i don't mean to make you confused. it's just that i'm, you know, confused? my head doesn't make a lot of sense. i write it down, sometimes that helps."

you nod. "yeah... you do a lot more than just confuse me. you make me feel all the feelings."

"all of them?"

"all of them." the corners of your mouth tilt up and you look across the park. there's nobody around at dawn. it's you and ellie, alone, with the birds, the trees, the grass, the feelings. "but i never feel hurt. i feel very safe. i've never had someone like you before. it feels like you understand that there's more to me than what other people see."

ellie exhales, a long and deep breath. she turns to you, brows upturned and a blush painting over her face. "yeah, well... i do my best to keep you comfortable."

"that makes me happy," you say. "and you..? do you feel..?"

"oh," ellie lets out a breathy laugh. "me... i feel good."

the word's on the tip of her tongue. but she doesn't say it. she doesn't even want to accept it; ellie feels purposeful around you. she's a protector. she's... not a lover, but surely something like that. she makes you feel happy. comfortable. safe. like watering a garden of roses.

ellie's voice gets raspy as she continues. "i feel seen."

"i'm really, really glad," you reply. she looks at you and smiles a bit, biting the inside of her cheek. there's a heat flowing through your body. you guess ellie feels the same, because her face is reddening more and more.

"so, kitty... should we get back soon?" ellie asks, looking around again—as if to play off the nickname. the shape of it in her mouth still feels a little weird, but she can't think of anything better. when you asked why, all she said was that sometimes, she swears you might start purring when she hugs you.

"yeah," you murmur distractedly. she looks back at you with concern, and your eyes are on her lips.

oh.

she doesn't feel scared. not exactly the way that she thought. she's not contagious. her burdens are not something she can share to you. you told her so, be it indirectly of course, but you still told ellie she couldn't hurt you by existing. you're comfortable; comfortable enough to want to kiss her.

so when you lean in, ellie does too.

your lips, plush, sweet, shy, meet hers. she is as shy, but quickly succumbs to the feeling. it's pleasant. she rubs her hand over your arm in a light motion, a full grin softening her face.

she'd like to do it again. ellie would love that, actually. sometimes when she thinks about you for too long, she starts to think about all those things you can do to a girlfriend. fuck. she's being selfish again. she's being crude.

"hey, so..." ellie sighs, leaning against the back of the bench and rubbing the back of her neck. "i know a spot just outside of jackson. it's real pretty out there. i can ask maria to let us out for a day? i'll take you there."

you hold fistfuls of the sides of ellie's shirt, holding on tight as she steers shimmer up a hill. she wants to, but she's barely paying attention to your murmured comments of amazement at how beautiful the woods are at this time of year. she's nervous. really.

"we're almost there," ellie announces. "you okay back there baby girl?"

"mm-hmm." you hum, leaning your head against the back of her shoulder, hiding your burning hot face. these little nicknames knock you pretty hard, and the moment ellie discovered so, she wouldn't let up.

"good," she whispers, biting back a smile at your bashfulness. "we're almost there. close your eyes, maybe. don't look until i tell you to. it'll be worth it! i promise."

"i trust you," you reply, laughing quietly and letting your eyes flutter closed.

it smells fresh outside of jackson. a light rainfall had occurred overnight, not only is there an earthy scent left behind—you can smell wet bark and leafy grass—but shimmer's hooves crunch mud and twigs, the sound crisp. the sky is clear of clouds, it's bright and balmy.

shimmer comes to a halt and ellie slides to the ground, catching your hands. she discretely checks the area for any infected as she talks. "alright darlin'. down we get. and no peeking."

"i'm not gonna peek," you giggle, stepping down with some help from ellie.

she slowly guides you forward, one hand over your eyes to really make sure you won't cheat, and the other on your waist.

"okay... are you ready?" ellie asks, removing her hand from your face finally. "you can look."

you blink, readjusting to the light around you, and once your vision clears you are met with what you could only describe as some kind of fairytale hideout—a charming little building, overgrown and yet it's aglow with colour. lush, emerald ivy crawls up the walls, wild and untamed. the flowering plant covers the faded awning, the walls, the broken window. a rusted gold bell hangs over the door, glinting in the sunlight. the dilapidated sign on the wall reads 'marybeth's flowers, est. 2006'.

"oh.. my..." you take a shallow breath before running up to the shop, mary janes squelching wet grass under them. ellie chuckles before chasing you, grabbing your wrist tightly.

"careful, baby. i'm ninety percent sure a patrol came through this morning so there should be no danger but we don't know for sure. don't run from me, okay?"

she's not surprised when her warning gets aired.

"this is beautiful," you say, looking around awe-struck. "you know, sometimes life feels so bleak because of the infected. but things like this make you realise... it's not so bad."

"yeah," ellie murmurs. she follows your gaze to the streaks of light glaring into the flower shop. another small victory for ellie—she knew you'd love this. while she was never one to appreciate the silence of abandoned buildings, succumbed to nature, she knows you fall the opposite way. likely because you seldom see sights like this after settling in jackson. all she ever wanted was to restore society. but your fresh eyes make the gears in her brain turn a different direction every now and then.

but she can't celebrate her success yet. she got you excitedly wandering the shop, a smile on your face. she still has another goal to complete today. and she shall stall it for as long as she can.

"these flowers! they're so happy, look at them," you chirp, dragging ellie through the shop. her nose tickles at the scent of strong pollen, but she tries to ignore it. and the watering of her eyes. what a dumb idea, bringing you here when she has allergies? somehow it hadn't even crossed her mind in the months she'd dreamed of this day. maybe it was a subconscious thing. she's willing to bear it just for you.

"happy flowers..?" she mutters. "i like you."

you stop by a pocket of pristine daisies and tilt your head, taking a soft inhale of the flowers. almost comically, ellie sneezes into her elbow, shaking her head.

"fuck, these things mess with my nose."

"aren't they pretty, though?" you ask, looking back at she who looks away in embarrassment. "they're said to represent new beginnings and love."

"yep. yeah, that's— cute." ellie nods, covering her nose. hopefully later on, she can get more than a word out without sneezing. she has something very important to ask. "i'm fucking dying."

"the hydrangeas! look at these," you gasp, rushing over to the bursts of coloured flowers. "they smell divine."

"what do these ones mean?" ellie asks, rubbing her nose with her free hand. the hydrangeas don't irritate her as much. thank god.

"well, the blue ones symbolise forgiveness and regret, or an apology to someone. the pink are about love. and white is purity," you explain. you don't see ellie nodding along behind you. "i've never seen so many of them. it's so tame in the greenhouses at home—these different species look like they're just.. fighting for space."

ellie's eyes land on a rose bush crawling up the wall. she lets out a puff of air before attempting to pluck one off the vine. a thorn pricks her thumb and she utters a curse before taking her knife to the stem. she feels weird holding it.

she catches your attention by clearing her throat, and holds it out to you on a whim. "these mean love too, don't they?"

you turn your head and, as your eyes lay upon the delicate pink hue of the rose in her hand, you draw your lip between your teeth and take it from her. "yeah. they do. i might take this home with us and press it."

"oh, yeah? that'll be nice," she replies.

"yeah, i think so," you say. it's almost a question. ellie just looks like she has something to say. but she won't say it. in turn, it makes you nervous as well.

ellie looks down and laughs breathlessly, her hand reaching towards her back pocket to pull out a few small cards. you recognise it, it's similar to your method at the winter dance.

"so... we both know i'm not the best at talking about my feelings," she starts. "so i stole your idea about the palm cards. y'know. hopefully i don't drop my shit on the floor like you did."

"hey—"

her voice is shaking. an undeniable waver, that makes your stomach flip with worry. "i appreciate you a lot. i've struggled with, um— i mean, fuck. this is stupid, i'm sorry, i'm just gonna freestyle this."

you giggle, tenderly touching ellie's forearm with the hope of relaxing her. "take your time, els."

"i've felt stranded since getting to jackson." ellie rubs her nose again with her sleeve, and then looks at the rose hanging candidly in your hand. "i really appreciate you for seeing me, and... believing me. nobody else really does. i just— can i... call you my girlfriend?"

you face splits into a wide smile, though she doesn't see. she's holding her breath, staring at the rose, when your pillow-soft palm cups her cheek.

"i would love that," you whisper, finally leaning in. you kiss her slowly, and ellie reciprocates immediately, hands grabbing at your body to pull you closer. sometimes she feels she can't get you close enough.

there's that selfishness again. but if you're her girlfriend, she can be as selfish as she likes.

she doesn't regret it. it's not regret. it's something cold. this pit in her stomach.

she's keeping you warm, got you tucked under the comforter and your face buried against her chest. ellie's fingers scratch softly at your scalp, and she watches your closed eyes flutter with dream, a calm look on your face.

maybe she shouldn't have asked.

you're hers now. she's over the moon, no doubt about that. maybe right now it's your quiet breathing as you sleep in her arms, the trees outside the garage that whisper in the wind, and, of course, her restless thoughts, that allow for ellie to question herself.

she hasn't had thoughts like this in a few days, though. she was running on the high of your affections, and now she's got this downtime to think about the week she's had.

you sleep so prettily. ellie maintains a steady, slow breathing pattern as if afraid she'd startle you otherwise. she watches you stir. you roll even closer to her and she bites her lip, wrapping you up as tight as can be. all this fear of harming you—this is what it stems from. ellie looks at you and she thinks about what a perfect girl this is. something about you stops her dead in her tracks, makes her change her tune.

and she tries not to care about what others think of her. ellie accepted that she is, inherently, the cause of catastrophe for many people. she even played into it.

ellie's lost so many loved ones. she swore she wouldn't lose you, because if she never had you to begin with, there was nothing to lose.

she fucked up.

she's at war with what she wants and what she fears most. how can that be? where has her self control gone? because the side of her that is wanting is starting to win.

she awkwardly swallows back a cough, burying your face into your hair, salt soaking into the strands. she slides her hand to the small of your back and pushes you closer, as though your warmth will ease the strain on her heart. she squeezes tight, starting to tremble. illness ravages her body.

you whimper out into the silence, tugging on the fabric of her hoodie.

"i know kitten," she whispers, "go back to sleep, i'm here."

"there. are you comfy?" ellie asks, rubbing circles into your skin beneath your shirt. she's got you sat on her lap beneath a tree in the park, having fussed about how you were getting your clothes all dirty by sitting on your own.

"yes. very." you nod firmly and lean against her, closing your eyes. the sun weaves between the leaves of the trees and hits your face just right, warmth coating your features.

ellie, on the other hand, is busy fixing you up. she wipes the grass off your knees and pulls your socks over your calves after sensing they'd fallen. she's got into this habit of silently tending to your appearance, be it tightening the ribbon in your hair or pulling your skirt down if it rides up too high. it's just an excuse to touch. to keep you in good condition.

these are the things nobody else sees or notices. ellie tends to you like you're a garden of rich flowers, the minute she sees any sign of wilting she must fix it. she also, recently, has taken it upon herself to protect you from parasitic public opinion. gossiping swirling around town in storms, which had been a fear of hers by touching you—she does everything possible to shield you.

"some privacy, how 'bout that?" she mutters, petting your arm. "nobody around to judge."

"yeah," you say. you pull ellie's other arm over your waist to anchor yourself against her body. "you didn't have to make such a big deal earlier, though."

"i absolutely did," she says, laughing. the noise vibrates in her chest. it's a soothing feeling. "look, i don't care what people think of me, but you? they're not allowed to talk shit about you because you're with me. and if anyone says shit like that to you, you tell them to fuck off, or you tell me, and i'll tell them to fuck off for you."

"well... i dunno," you reply, nudging ellie. "i can handle it. because i know that what they say isn't true. why would i value the opinions of people who change their tune depending on who i spend my time with?"

ellie scoffs softly and rests her face atop your head, lips against your crown. "i don't deserve you."

she's not sure what led her to saying that. it is how she feels inside, but she's been hellbent on keeping that from you. she's found that she talks a lot more freely these days.  it's partly to compensate for the guilt she feels in what she can't say—like telling you she's immune, or that she wished she was dead for a very long time—lately, she hasn't thought about those things as much. she can see herself, one day, telling you about her immunity. she'd like for you to feel a sense of comfort in it.

"don't say that stuff," you scold gently, squishing ellie's wrist in your hand. your fingers slide down the pale skin to her knuckles, red-raw and bruised from an altercation. "maybe those people shouldn't try to provoke you, and they'd be a lot happier minding their own."

"i lost my temper and punched someone," ellie says, "it's embarrassing."

"well... i agree that you didn't really need to do that," you say sheepishly. "but you were defending yourself. you fuck around and you find out, you know? jacob was being nasty on purpose."

she snorts, shrugging her shoulders and squeezing your waist. "yeah, i guess. it was only when he brought you into it that i got mad, okay? i'm trying to handle my emotions better. and he just gets on my nerves because he's such a little dick."

"well, i'm glad you stood up for me, either way," you say. "thank you, els. i'm not good at that stuff. people hurt my feelings all the time without realising it and i don't do anything about it."

"yeah. i promise he was just talking out of his ass, baby, please, don't take what he said seriously."

ellie knows you; she knows you're capable of handling yourself, but you are also a highly sensitive person, who has only ever known how it feels to be on people's good sides. being compared to a doormat, a lamb to the slaughter, or as jacob called it today, you being 'walked like a dog' by ellie, it must hurt. there must be doubt somewhere in your mind.

"it's okay," you say hesitantly. "i'm not."

"he doesn't know us," she murmurs against your ear. she moves her lips to your temple, rubbing down your side with her hand. "and he was so wrong, anyway. you're my kitten."

"were you still wanting to hang out with jesse and dina later? we can get ready and go soon," you say quietly, glancing over your shoulder at ellie as you reach for your shoes. she's still sitting on her bed, leaning against the headboard casually. that's a no.

"i just... after today, wanna be with my girl, okay?" ellie murmurs. she shifts her eyes away immediately after telling you this, like she's embarrassed—and you laughing doesn't make it better. "i doubt those two feel like doing shit right now anyway. and you look exhausted, so..."

"okay miss suave," you tease, raising your eyebrows at her tough act. "what are you doing?"

"trying to be a good girlfriend," ellie says back. she opens her hands in an encouraging fashion, as if to beckon you to her lap.

lips parted in bewilderment and words escaping you for a moment, your body still seems to move with its own mind and you're soon perched on ellie's thigh, facing her. her hand finds home on your waist, the other on your knee. "you already are a good girlfriend, silly."

"yeah, well— i just think i wanna appreciate you a little more, kitten. some proper alone time, you know? just us. and our feelings. and..." ellie can't even look at you. it's strange, because for the first time, she isn't afraid of making a move. she's just unfamiliar with it. "i— maybe, you know... i can just show you what i mean. if you trust me."

you take a pause at that. you tilt your head and catch her gaze, stammering slightly. "hm?"

"do you trust me?"

"yeah," you reply, the breathless word pleasing ellie more than you could imagine. "can you be a little more direct, please?"

ellie swallows thickly, looking you in the eyes with a fiery certainty. "i want to touch you. are you ready for something like that?"

you weren't sure at first if you had read the situation wrong, but you're right. and whilst nervous, you're so, so ready.

"yeah, please." your insistence causes ellie to grow in confidence, a hand slowly snaking from thigh to your cheek.

"okay," ellie says. "it's your first time, yeah?"

"yes."

you avoid her gaze this time. ellie's not used to this anymore. you haven't been so shy since the first few times you roped your way into speaking to her. she was always so endeared by your shyness. right now, it's just what she needed. ellie wants you to be the nervous one more often. she likes it. feeling like a protector.

"don't be scared, kitten." ellie gives you a reassuring smile, her thumb rubbing over your lower lip. "it's only me, you know? i'll take care of you."

your stomach feels tight suddenly, a rush of warmth between your legs. it is just the thought of what she'll do, how you know ellie will take care of you. it has you worked up. already.

ellie's free hand roams up and down your back, the one cupping your cheek now bringing you closer and closer. you brace yourself by basing your hands on her shoulders, certainty in both of your nearing smiles—her lips are on yours in seconds, and as fast as they had met, the passion increases. 

silence and heavy breath. your lower lip between her teeth. ellie's hand pushing you closer by the ass. she touches you with far less of the hesitance you find yourself with, letting out a quiet and pleased hum against her mouth as you find the courage to palm her chest.

your hips rolling into her is what pulls her away for a soft laugh, fingers languidly messing with the hem of your top. "you're okay? you cool if I take this off'a you now?"

you lean forward to give her another kiss, over-eager and making her chuckle again. she takes that as a yes and begins to pull your top up, focused on you as the fabric is discarded somewhere on the floor. 

the goosebumps beginning to prick up along your tummy and arms sweeten the sight even more, her hands sliding up your sides and holding you firmly. she almost doesn't know how to proceed, heat building in her boxers and gaze frantic—where to look, where to look? your stomach, or your bra, and the way it hugs your tits?

nimble fingers graze the cups of your bra, a slight touch just to test the waters. 

"shit, you are so perfect." ellie whispers it like she can't even believe the beauty sitting in her lap right now, her already pink cheeks turning darker. crimson billowing up her neck, settling beneath smatterings of freckles.

while she moves toward the clasp of your bra, she leans forward to kiss you again, tongue pressing into yours. ellie snaps your bra open and you let it slither down your arms, baring your chest. the air has a bite to it, but ellie takes hearty, warm handfuls of your tits, watching you shiver.

she now trails her lips down, down, down. neck, collarbone, tits. she has half a mind to tease you, avoid where you want her most, but she can't bring herself to. 

too happily, ellie swallows up your stiff peak, and you arch your back into her. She fondles you with gentleness, lips switching between both sides and wrapping around your nipples. her free hand strokes up your spine, every action unscripted but full of intention.

hearing your tiny coos and panting gets ellie pent up. the upturning of your brows and how you draw your lip between your teeth to muffle the pleasure in your voice, your hips rolling and squirming, hands fidgeting, it's a masterpiece. ellie has got to draw you like this—she will, if she can even remember it later.

finally, ellie's fingers nudge at the fly of your shorts, her forehead resting against yours. "lay down baby girl, i got you."

"mhm."

you shimmy out of your shorts quickly, crawling onto ellie's bed. it feels unfamiliar and yet comforting to gather pillows and place them against the headboard, resting back on them.

ellie helps you shortly, then starts to throw off her own clothes; shirt and jeans off, and only her boxers and bra on. you want to stop and stare but she's throwing instructions at you before you get the chance to.

"lift your hips up babe, let me put this down."

you feel soft.

ellie had, of course, taken note of your smooth skin, pillowy lips. in the physical sense, you are so soft. but on the inside, you're melting over her. softening and shying away over the reassurances slipping into conversation, the fact that her callouses feel so much fainter thanks to her light grip.

it makes you feel somewhat lightheaded. head in the clouds.

ellie quickly crawls over you, pressing a firm, steady line of kisses all the way from your jaw to your tummy, occasionally nipping flesh between her teeth.

"and are you gonna let me take these off?" ellie asks, rubbing circles over your hips where pink cotton covers you.

"yeah," you murmur, laughing quietly, looking down and matching ellie's small smile with one of your own. "please.."

she takes her time as she slides the fabric down your legs. she can feel your nervousness, and attempts to drown out the silence in the room by cooing at the sight between your legs.

"wow, look at you… all wet for me, hm?" 

ellie parts your legs with her hands and lies on her stomach, eyes closing as she leans down and tenderly kisses your clit; your jolt makes her stop and grin upwards, hand splaying over your pelvis. her thumb rubs slow, languid circles on the thumping bundle of nerves, the other hand demanding your legs to remain open.

tremors run through your thighs. ellie feels them against her, and she likens them to adorable electric shocks. your chest heaves. she's barely touched you yet. 

"so beautiful," ellie whispers. she's looking more at the folds of your cunt than she is at you just now, struggling to believe she is the only person to see you like this, let alone touch you like this. what'd she even do to deserve this? gorgeous skin glistening, musky scent hitting her nose…

it's all hers. how did she get so goddamn lucky?

your hips buck into her hand. frankly, ellie cannot hold back anymore, itching for a taste, and of course in a kinder sense—she doesn't want to keep you waiting too long.

it starts in long, deliberate strokes of her tongue. up and down, from hole to clit. a whiny sound falls from her lips as she finally learns your flavour.

but you sound perfect. your voice strained, noises slipping out of your lips free of intention. ellie listens to it all. she smiles when the sounds change, when her tongue focuses precisely on your swollen clit. it's slow, sensual, but fervent. it's almost torturous for your sensitivity, the newness of it all leaving you with difficulty focusing on anything at all.

you hold yourself together so well, and ellie's never seen you truly fall apart like this.

your body is fighting itself. leaning into ellie's mouth, then trying to move away—which she doesn't let happen—and you tense up, squeezing a pillow tightly over your chest.

"mmh— ellie! it's too much."

"shh, i got you baby girl. look at me," ellie whispers, plump lips shining with your essence over them.

you open your eyes a smidge and look down, almost mortified by the lewdness of her between your legs. as she distracts you with a gentle flick of her tongue, you feel a slow but pleasant burning sensation, the insertion of her finger—that's when too much becomes too much.

your entire body is startled by a wave of shock, breathy whines falling out of you without control. ellie has to fight to keep your squirming body still, though she squeezes her own thighs together at the scene. the feeling of you clenching so tight on her finger, and your clit twitching under her tongue...

"aw, baby girl, what happened?" she teases, looking up through half-lidded eyes. "do i have a magic touch or something, huh?"

"you are so mean," you whine.

"mean? i can get meaner if you want me to," she whispers, finger starting to pump in and out at a slow pace. "don't be embarrassed. i did the same thing my first time."

when her finger begins to move, you bite back a light whimper and squeeze the pillow harder in your hands. "no you didn't. and don't be meaner."

"i didn't," ellie concedes, laughing softly. "i'm just trying to make you feel better. there's nothing to be embarrassed for. that was the prettiest thing."

ellie slides her finger out of you and leans over to give you a soft peck on the lips, not before sucking her finger clean of course.

"you're so lucky i can't be mean to you, because you taste so good i wanna stay down there forever."

you huff softly, pushing frizzy hairs out of ellie's face. "did i ruin it?"

"no." ellie scoffs at this, leaning lower to bite at your neck like it's some kind of reprimand. "that was beautiful, and i'm not done, anyway. just letting you recover a little right now."

she doesn't feel bad this time around for being greedy. she licks the spot she bit, only to make another attack on your neck, sucking the skin between her teeth. ellie's being so selfish, she's eating you up and putting her hands all over you and it's disgusting, and you like it. it's making you feel good. she's not afraid that she might hurt you. she feels so much control over herself right now, so comfortable in your presence.

ellie pulls her boxers down quickly and tosses them to the floor. this time it's your turn to not know where to look—the trail of dark red hairs that lead from her navel to her mound, or the small, perky tits that she uncovers finally.

"don't," she whispers, grabbing your wrists and pinning them by your sides the moment you try to reach out. "just spread your legs for me."

you give a sort of choked moan in response, opening your legs. ellie bites her lip and moves slowly without wanting to overwhelm you, but sits so that your legs are interlocked, her cunt right on top of yours. you both moan, ellie a little quieter than you, as she starts to move.

and it's not slow. her clit kisses yours over, and over, and over, her clammy knuckles whiting as she holds your hands into the bed. she uses it as leverage to move herself over you, panting heavily over your face. everything's slippery, sweaty, hot, as though you're running a fever.

"you take it so, so well, kitten," ellie says lowly, forcing her eyes open to watch your wrecked expression. "so good for me, my one and only."

"mmh, els, i love you," you whimper. you recognise the buildup to your orgasm this time, it's still quick but it doesn't take you by surprise so much like earlier. between shrieks of delight and your hips bucking into hers, you chant a mantra. "i love you, i love you."

"i love you too— i really do," ellie rushes out. she's overwhelmed with it, and never has she come so quickly before, but your needy cries satisfy her more than anything. she could honestly get off to just that sound.

"shh, shh, you're okay," she whispers after collapsing over you. she's shaking hard, blistering skin burning yours, but in a sensitive way; it's almost addictive. she cups your cheek to lift your face, almost like she has to check that you're still functioning. it's the slightest worry she might have broken you—not that that would be a bad thing anymore. not like this. "look at me, pretty girl. there she is. hi."

"hi," you reply, still breathing heavily, but managing a light smile. ellie grins back, leaving a kiss on those soft lips before rolling over to hold you in her arms.

"did you get what i was wanting to show you? i think you did," she says.

you nod, pressing your mouth against her collarbone, the skin hot and moist. "i love you, and you love me."

"clever kitten," ellie murmurs, rubbing the back of your head. "you get me like nobody else."

she has succeeded. she makes you feel safe. she's good for that—protecting. she was used to treating her immunity as a superpower of sorts, to throw herself recklessly into patrols to guard jackson. things are simpler now; ellie is more responsible now, she wants to return home safely for your sake. if she were gone, you'd be hurting.

it's something ellie resigned herself to thinking she'd never have. you trust her. she knows you. she knows nearly everything there is to know. she never thought herself to be anything but destructive, but she's grown under your wing. her fire is contained to that which emits smoke into a chimney on a rainy day, keeping you warm.

she's attached herself to you; she's the thorns on your stem, the water that keeps you happy, and the sun that nourishes you all at once.

ellie has a new purpose.

🏷️ @abbysdollie @valeisaslut @eriiwaii @emmap3rkins @ellieshothousewife @piercedome @therealhexstrap @jinxedbambi @heyimrye @rhian88 @g4ys0n @yoosohh @marvelwomenarehot0 @l0veylace @marieeeluvsyou @losing-it-lately (if you aren't usually on my tag list but got tagged, it's because you showed some interest in the fic and it really motivated me to keep going ♡) thank you for reading ♡♡ btw i have headcanons + spin-off content planned for this au so be on the lookout !!

[canonically47]

i saw a post (that must be from a WHILE back) calling connor autistic and i just haven’t been able to stop thinking about it

in addition to what they’ve said, i also want to point out some other things he does that can be considered symptoms of autism:

repetitive, self-soothing movements.

connor rubs his hands together or plays with a coin if you leave him idle, or in cutscenes. it is a form of self-regulating through repetitive and familiar actions. i think fixing his tie as often as he does can also fit into this.

additionally, there is a deleted scene in which he grabs onto his collar for comfort when amanda tries to override his control in the final mission.

inability to fit in with own kind (deviants – parallel with neurodivergent peers) but also with others (humans – parallel with neurotypical peers).

as mentioned, connor struggles to relate to and bond with hank – “i think working with an officer with personal issues is an added challenge” – despite being programmed to fit into ‘any kind of group’ (desc. from his gallery). he has difficulties understanding him and voices this to amanda.

however, he also struggles to relate to fellow deviants, or androids in general, and is very different from them. this could be partly because he is a prototype, but so is markus, and he blends in well. connor, meanwhile, had a very skewed perception of both humans and deviants (see: him picking the most dumbass outfit and pose to infiltrate jericho) and struggles to interact with them, appearing hesitant at all times (see: telling markus he understands if he decides not to trust him, sounding somewhat uncertain when proposing his plan to markus or north, his whole relationships with hank and gavin etc.)

misunderstanding or total lack of understanding of social cues, norms, or common sayings.

he displays confusion when hank says “you know where you can stick your instructions?” (“no. where?”) – which could be irony, but i read it as genuine. he has trouble interacting with people ‘normally’ and cannot emote properly, one proper example being how weird he smiles (see: awkward smiles when he talks to hank at the station the night after the interrogation, weird smile given to gavin when he does not understand his humor).

speaking of not understanding humor, not only does he find gavin unfunny, he also does not get hank’s gruesome humor (see: frowning when hank jokes “they must have really had it in for him”).

moreover, he speaks over hank (see: speaking over him in his house, thanking him for his cooperation while hank is yelling at him) without seeing it as ‘bad’ – lacking a social cue.

clear, sole focus on one single thing.

this is, of course, his mission, regardless of what it is: catching deviants (machine) or helping jericho (deviant). he always is troubled and/or upset if he fails it, and he doubts himself, is confused or disappointed when he lets androids go, and, if he explains himself, he visibly struggles in doing so: “it’s my fault, i should’ve been faster”, “i don’t know why i did it”, “there was no reason to shoot that android” etc.

sticking to routine or to familiarity.

connor does not get rid of his android uniform, nor LED, after deviating, as markus and kara do straight away. you can argue the other two do it out of need to blend in, but it is also something that frees them; connor does not take after them in this.

noticing small patterns or details other don’t

this is literally part of his programming LISTEN TO MEEEEEEE

while i don’t think all androids are neurodivergent, deviancy, in connor’s case, can be read as an allegory for neurodivergency, specifically autism.

connor always displays symptoms of deviancy regardless of your playthrough – he lies to hank in the stratford tower in ALL routes, this being a canon, non-choosable cutscene, and another solid example is fear. he expresses fear through gestures (see: flinching away from the stratford tower roof if he died from falling in the hostage chapter – fear of heights) or dialogue (see: discussing death with hank on the bridge: “nothing. there would be nothing”; being conflicted when amanda tells him he may replace him.)

machine connor is, thus, connor masking. he always has some humanity in him, but he shoves it away deep down when taking the path of a machine. he still gets frustrated (example: after his rifle stops working when he attempts to kill markus; swearing if the bomb is detonated following the deviants’ loss of the war), troubled/conflicted (example: “what’s going to happen to me?” and his little reactions when amanda presents him with rk900), and even appears sad (example: his reaction to hank’s suicide, his LED turning red, it appears as though he forces it back to blue.)

while i don’t think this is the intention of the writers, autistic connor is canon to me. he is android autistic. thank you

[22ayla21]

Fathers and Their Children Part I

The Twisted Wonderland boys as fathers.

Third year Second year First year

Trey Clover

Trey will be very attentive to his children, always trying to create a safe and comfortable environment for them. He will always be there to support, guide and help, especially in difficult situations.

He will love his sons with all his heart, but will show it through actions rather than words. He is not one to over-express emotions, but his love and care will be evident in his daily actions.

Trey will try to be a good mentor to his sons, passing on his wisdom and life experience to them. He will try to teach them to be independent, responsible and honest, while not forgetting to show tolerance and understanding for their mistakes. He will patiently explain and repeat important things, but if his children cross the line, he will show that there are consequences. However, he will approach this with thoughtfulness and consideration, avoiding harsh punishments.

Trey will try to set a good example for his children. He will teach them honesty, responsibility, hard work, but also the importance of rest and not forgetting about fun and simple pleasures in life.

He will probably be actively involved in creating family traditions. These can be shared activities, such as baking or going for walks, which will strengthen family bonds and create an atmosphere of comfort. Despite his reserved nature, Trey loves to add playfulness to his relationships with children. He may be the one who will arrange little pranks or jokes to amuse his sons, adding an element of lightness to their lives.

Trey will always plan for the future of his sons, providing them not only with everything they need, but also preparing them for adulthood. He may be the one who helps with their studies, practical skills and moral values.

When his sons face difficulties or worries, Trey will always be there to listen and support. He will show the importance of openly sharing your feelings and not being afraid to show vulnerability.

Cater Diamond

Cater would try his best to be the coolest and funniest father for his daughter. He would arrange joint photo shoots with her, shoot funny videos and could even start her own Magicam account (under strict control, of course). His daughter would definitely know all the memes and trends thanks to him.

If his daughter wants to take a beautiful photo, Cater will set up a real mini-photo studio with perfect lighting and angles. And if she is a teenager and is embarrassed to be photographed, he will patiently wait for the moment when she herself asks him for a photo.

If someone offends his daughter, Cater will not get into a fight, but he will be able to put the person in their place with words so carefully and subtly that the offender will not have a chance. He can also twist the situation on social networks so that the offender himself will regret his behavior.

Cater knows how to make any event special. Whether it's a birthday, graduation, or just a tough day, he'll find a way to cheer up his daughter, whether it's a cute gift, an unexpected picnic, or a whole surprise party.

Cater is a sensitive person, and he always notices if his daughter is in a bad mood. He won't pressure her, but he'll gently lead her into a conversation or just offer to spend time together until she decides to share her worries.

He'll definitely be the dad who buys his daughter a teddy bear the size of a room or suddenly brings her her favorite dessert just because "that's how he felt." But if she starts to be capricious or demanding too much, Cater will find a clever way to explain why this is not an option without abruptly prohibiting her.

His daughter will definitely inherit his love for jokes and sarcasm. They can organize mini-competitions for the funniest memes or come up with funny pranks for family and friends.

Does your daughter want to be an artist? Cater will find her the best materials. Want to become a musician? Here's a cool guitar! The main thing is that she's happy.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was initially reluctant to become a father. He doubted that he would succeed, and in general did not see any particular need for it. However, when the children were born, his attitude gradually changed... Fate laughed at him and gave him not one child, but two - twins. And although he always says that he treats them equally, it is noticeable that he has a special weakness for his daughter.

Leona loves to play chess with the children, but never gives in. They lose time after time, get angry, sometimes even cry, but each time they demand revenge. He is proud of their stubbornness, but does not say it out loud. The twins inherited his cunning and ability to manipulate, and when they want to get something, they act subtly and harmoniously, but Leona always sees through them.

He does not like it when children scream loudly or demand attention. Usually he just silently picks them up and sits them down next to him, sometimes even lazily throwing them over his shoulder if they are too active.

Cheka used to be the nephew who pestered Leona, and now Farena suffers from the pranks of his nephews. "It's karma," Farena says with a chuckle, watching the children make insidious plans against their uncle.

The cutest moment in the house is when all three lions (Leona and the twins) simultaneously turn their heads to the sound of their mother's voice, and everyone's right ear twitches in unison.

Leona is not particularly strict, but if someone dares to offend his children, he will turn into a real beast. Once, one of his peers teased his daughter - after that, the child never appeared in the Kingskolar family's field of vision again.

Leona can be tough and serious, but when it comes to sleep, the children have no problem climbing into his lap, settling down like on a pillow. At first he grumbled, but then he resigned himself. When the kids cause chaos, he will never admit that it was his idea. Even if it is written on his face that it was his idea.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil surrounds his daughter with care and love, but at the same time brings her up with discipline. He does not tolerate sloppiness, laziness or rudeness, so from childhood he instills in her a sense of responsibility.

His daughter's clothes are always impeccably chosen: only high-quality fabrics, stylish styles and no "childish tasteless kitsch". Even if it's just pajamas, they fit perfectly and emphasize her refined taste (according to Vil).

From early childhood, he teaches her how to properly care for her skin and hair. For example, before going to bed, they have a special ritual: soft creams, combing her hair and, of course, a bedtime story (but not just a story, but something from the classics, with an aesthetic style).

Vil can be strict and even a little demanding, but if someone offends his daughter, that person will regret it. He will not tolerate rudeness, rudeness or, God forbid, bullying towards her. If necessary, he will personally talk to the parents of the "offender" or even the teachers.

Vil will not force her to pursue a career in the fashion industry, but he will definitely teach her a sense of taste and style. If she wants to become someone far from the arts, he will support her, but will still nag a little if her clothes are "non-expressive".

Despite his majestic image, when he is alone with his daughter, he can allow himself to be soft and even a little silly. If she asks, he can dress up in a crown and participate in tea parties with stuffed animals.

Although he always holds himself proudly and gracefully, there are times when he just sits and watches his daughter sleep, realizing how quickly she is growing up. Sometimes he wishes she could remain his little girl for a little while longer.

Everyone thinks that Vil is the boss in their family. But in reality, his little princess can get anything from him - if she approaches with the right approach. He often tells her that she should value herself, never settle for less, and be independent. Vil wants his daughter to grow up to be a strong, elegant, and respected woman who knows her worth.

Rook Hunt

Rook is a father who admires every achievement of his children, even the most insignificant ones. First step? "Oh, mon amour, look at this graceful hunter growing up!" First scribble? "This is a real masterpiece!" He literally turns every event into a celebration.

Like a true hunter, he teaches children not only ordinary things, but also how to be observant, to feel nature, people and the world around them. He could, for example, discreetly follow their adventures to make sure they are safe, but at the same time give them the freedom to explore.

If his son and daughter participates in competitions, concerts, even in ordinary school activities - Rook will support them as if they were the main characters of the world arena. Moreover, his applause and cries of support are so loud and heartfelt that they attract the attention of everyone around.

Rook does not impose his point of view on children, but, on the contrary, helps to reveal their natural talents. If the older child wants to be an explorer, and the younger one an artist, he will find ways to develop their abilities, creating the perfect environment for them.

He teaches his children to appreciate beauty, whether it is beauty in people, in nature, or in art. They can spend hours walking in the forest, listening to their father describe the grace of every detail, be it a flower petal or the movement of an animal.

Despite his enthusiasm, Rook can be strict if his children do something unfair or are lazy in realizing their potential. He will not yell or punish, but his disappointment will be felt more than any punishment. “Mon enfant, how can this be? Does a hunter stop when he is faced with a challenge?”

Rook allows his children to try, make mistakes, and learn. He does not limit them, but at the same time teaches them responsibility for their actions. He could let them go on an adventure, but somehow still keep an eye on their safety. Whether it's hunting trips (not necessarily actual hunting, perhaps just nature watching) or morning gatherings with a cup of tea and conversations about life, Rook will create family traditions that will be passed on to the children.

Idia Shroud

After learning that he is going to have a child, Idia will go through several stages: denial, panic, and then... total study of the issue. He will reread all possible guides, create files with parenting tactics, and even try to program Ortho as a nanny.

He will be afraid that the boy will follow in his footsteps - become just as unsociable and withdrawn. Because of this, Idia will try, albeit awkwardly, to support him in his social development. For example, instead of dissuading his son from going for walks, he will push him to go out. However, if the son refuses, he will immediately say: "Well, okay, actually it's fine at home...".

If the son gets interested in games, comics or technology, Idia will immediately become his main supplier of new products and rare collector's editions. He will justify himself by saying that he is simply "investing in his education," but in reality, he is pleased to see his son engaged.

He worries that his son will be embarrassed by him or think that he is weak. Because of this, he will occasionally try to appear "cool" - for example, by demonstrating his hacking skills or trying to play the role of a formidable parent. However, this rarely works, because his son has long known that his dad is a kind, albeit anxious genius.

If someone offends his child, Idia will first find information about this person, hack their accounts, and then come up with a cunning revenge. He will not directly deal with the offender, but will create a situation in which the offender himself will be scared. If the situation requires personal intervention, he will gather his strength and do it - even if it will make him look extremely awkward.

He can sometimes forget himself and treat his son like a playmate, and not like a child. For example, she will suggest him to scold the NPC instead of solving the problem in reality. But if his son really needs support, Idia will put all fears aside and help, even if it means leaving her comfort zone. When her son falls asleep next to her, when they just sit and are silent, when Idia understands that his boy trusts him - at such moments he feels that maybe he is not so bad at this "game" called parenthood.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is the king of Briar Valley, and his son is the heir. He understands the importance of education and responsibility, so he will teach his child discipline, respect for others and traditions. However, he will never be cruel - if his son makes a mistake, he will not yell or scold him, but calmly explain what the mistake was.

He can calmly listen to a million questions in a row, even if it is something like "Why do I have horns, and my mother does not?" or "And if I eat a precious stone, will I become stronger?" Malleus is reserved and rarely loses his temper, so it is difficult to upset him, even if his son angers him with something.

He will not allow anyone to harm his son - not enemies of the kingdom, not magical creatures, not even overly persistent teachers. If someone dares to threaten the heir of Briar Valley... it is better to pray to them.

Malleus understands that his son has inherited the power of dragon magic from him, so he trains him from an early age. He will proudly watch the child's first spells and gently correct him if something goes wrong.

Despite his seriousness, Malleus does not miss a moment to spend time with his son. He can throw him in the air, ride him on his shoulders, or even let him pull his tail.

Malleus rarely shows his feelings in words, but he conveys them through actions. If the child is afraid of the dark or sleeps poorly, he quietly sings an ancient lullaby that his mother sang to him. Perhaps this is even a family tradition, and now this song is passed down from generation to generation.

As a king, he is busy with the affairs of the kingdom, and sometimes he has to leave the child alone. If he sees that his son is sad or lonely, his heart squeezes with guilt. He always compensates for this - brings gifts, takes his son with him to important ceremonies or just spends an evening with him, telling ancient stories.

He is the first time in this role, so sometimes he makes mistakes. He can demand too much from the child, forget that he is still little, or underestimate his emotions. But Malleus learns, listens to you (his queen) and to his son himself, trying to be a better father than he was yesterday.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia doesn't just educate - he makes the process fun. Need to learn to read? Great, now it's the riddles of ancient runes. Learning math? Excellent, count how many times dad dodges a pillow attack!

Who needs carriages and transport when you have a fae dad? Even if the baby can already walk, she often ends up on his shoulders, joyfully holding his hair.

He can play for hours, run and even rock the baby at night until her eyes close. But when he falls next to her on the couch, he is already unbearable.

Lilia trusts her daughter and wants her to learn from her own experience. He will not overprotect her, but if he feels that she is in real danger, it is better to run.

Whether your daughter wants to become a warrior, an artist, an inventor or just explore the world - Lilia will stand next to her and say: "Excellent! Show me how you do it! "

There is a place in the forest where they can sit for hours, chat or just lie there, looking at the stars. It is their little world, where no one is allowed except for mom, if she brings something tasty.

Her favorite "accomplice" in her pranks. While mom looks away - and Lilia is already helping her daughter hide in the closet or quietly sneak into the kitchen for a night treat.

The fae bat has his fangs for a reason! He proudly teaches her how to fly, night vision and even the ability to silently appear behind people's backs (mom is not thrilled).

He understands that his daughter is more special because of the human blood in her veins, but he will never show sadness. Instead, he makes her life happy, full of fun and adventure. After all, as long as she has dad - everything will be fine.

[alygator77]

.ೃ࿐motherhood and matrimony I ch 4 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies (annoyances) to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, marriage of convenience, slow burn, smut, fluff, some angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, triggers of prior domestic abuse » 【note, this chapter contains extreme emotional manipulation from naoya, reader discretion advised】

ꨄ words: 9.3k

ꨄ a/n. okaaaay time for some angst ya'll. this series is taking a serious turn 🥲 also, as i said earlier, originally this chapter was 20k words buuuut i decided to split it up. i know ya'll said you wouldn't mind one long chapter but it's just, there are moments that i really want to give more time to breathe. you'll get ch 5 soon though, enjoy ♡

ꨄ taglist: open (ao3)

♬ playlist

series masterlist ꨄ︎ previous chapter ꨄ︎ next chapter →

ch 4 // shadows of doubt

“…you sure you’re okay watching Haru?” you ask, hovering by the doorway, your fingers lightly brushing the doorframe as you steal one last glance into the living room.

The television screen casts a soft glow over Satoru and Haru, nestled together on the couch.

Satoru’s brow is furrowed in concentration as he fumbles with the TV remote, cycling through the menu. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his tongue peeking out slightly at the corner in a classic expression of someone deeply focused.

His usually tousled white hair is messier than usual, as if he’s run his hands through it a few too many times in frustration, and his sweater hangs loosely on his frame, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

It’s a stark contrast to the sharp, tailored suits you’re used to seeing him in.

But that’s because right now, he’s just Satoru—the guy who’s clearly struggling with something as simple as setting up a kid’s TV show, and yet, there’s something incredibly endearing about it.

Haru, oblivious to his difficulties, swings her tiny legs back and forth in a rhythm of excitement as she sits beside him.

It’s a picture of domesticity that feels almost too perfect to disrupt—a scene that brings warmth, but also a sharp pang of guilt.

Guilt—of what you are about to do.

“Yes, of course,” he replies without missing a beat, light yet reassuring. He glances up at you briefly, offering a warm smile. “Do what you need to do, it’s important to have time to yourself.”

Right now, it feels like you don’t deserve that smile.

The ache in your chest intensifies at the sincerity in his words, making the lie you’re carrying out feel even heavier.

Finally, after a few more clicks, the TV springs to life, and a triumphant grin spreads across Satoru’s face as the familiar Digimon theme song bursts through the speakers.

The sound seems to ignite a spark of joy in Haru, her face wide eyed as she turns her full attention to the screen.

“Besides, I promised her we’d watch Digimon together,” Satoru says, his voice laced with affection as he glances at Haru. “Now’s the perfect time. Right, Haru?”

Haru beams, her small body practically vibrating with excitement as she snuggles closer to him.

“Wow, look ‘toru, look!” she exclaims gleefully, her voice high-pitched with exhilaration as she points at the screen.

Her eyes sparkle with wonder, completely captivated by the vibrant colors and lively characters dancing across the television.

“Yay!” she claps her hands together.

A tender smile curls upon Satoru’s lips as he shifts his gaze from Haru to you. His blue eyes, always so vibrant and full of life, are soft and inviting, radiating a sense of calm—a calm that should put you at ease, but why does it fill you with more guilt?

“See? We’ve got it all under control. Go do what you need to do, and don’t worry about a thing.”

His words are spoken with such warmth and trust—it should comfort you, but instead your unease twists further in your gut.

You force a smile, trying to push away the shame that threatens to rise to the surface.

“Alright,” you murmur, “I won’t be long.”

But you linger for just a moment longer, unable to tear your eyes away from the heartwarming sight before you.

The way Satoru drapes an arm around Haru, pulling her closer as they both become engrossed in the show—you realize something profound.

It’s in the subtle details—the way he listens intently to her excited chatter, how he nods along, genuinely interested in every little thing she points out, even if it’s something as simple as a colorful character on the screen.

Satoru isn’t just watching Digimon with Haru; he’s immersing himself in her world.

He’s someone who takes the time to enjoy the things she loves, someone who listens to her with the patience and attentiveness she deserves. He’s supporting her curiosity, encouraging her to explore and express herself, making her feel valued in a way that is both gentle and profound.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted for Haru—a stable, loving figure in her life, someone she can depend on, someone who can always be there for her. Someone who makes her feel safe, cherished, and free to be her true self.

Someone Naoya never was.

But this relationship is a contract, a charade—a lie.

And now, this new lie you’re about to bring to the table, casts an even darker shadow over this picture of domestic bliss.

There is a storm cloud, threatening to break at any moment—to drench you in an unforgiving rain. And that storm cloud is your reality.

The reality that this relationship has always been a lie, hasn’t it?

So... is what you’re doing really any different?

As you turn to leave, your body feels heavy, burdened by the deception you’re carrying with you.

Closing the door behind you, the soft click echoes in your ears as you begin to walk down the hallway, away from the warmth of the living room and into the cold reality of the decision you’ve made.

ꨄ

A soft jingle rings above your head as you push open the glass door to the coffee shop—a sound almost too cheerful considering what’s to come. Once the door closes behind you with a muted thud, your fate is sealed.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee hits you first, rich and earthy, mingling with the sweet, buttery aroma of pastries that line the display case. It’s a combination that would normally invite comfort, a location for quiet relaxation.

Today, however, that feels entirely out of reach.

Only a few patrons are scattered about, each lost in their own world—reading books, typing away on laptops, or simply enjoying company. The soft murmur of conversation barely registers in your ears as your eyes sweep across the room.

Within moments you spot Naoya, seated at a corner table in the back, a place where the dimness nearly swallows him whole, casting long shadows that seem to cling to him like a second skin.

His chosen spot is strategic, offering both a sense of privacy and an air of intimidation.

It’s a stage he’s set perfectly.

The way he sits—one arm draped casually over the back of the booth, the other cradling a coffee cup—exudes an unsettling confidence, as if he’s already decided the outcome of this meeting.

His minacious eyes rake over you and he registers the trepidation in your step, causing a shiver to run down your spine as his lips slowly curl into a predatory smirk.

Setting down his cup of coffee with a practiced ease, the porcelain clinks softly against the saucer. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he waves you over, the gesture so casual it’s almost insulting, as if he were summoning a servant rather than inviting a conversation.

You lower yourself into the chair across from him with measured deliberation, desperately trying to project a façade of composure even as anxiety, anger, and guilt roil within you like a brewing storm.

Unfortunately, the table between you and Naoya feels woefully insufficient, a flimsy barrier against the man who once wielded a terrifying influence over your life—a man who now threatens to shatter the fragile peace you’ve painstakingly pieced together.

“y/n,” he begins, his voice smooth and slick, like oil spilling over water, spreading tendrils of unease. “I’m glad you decided to show up.”

You force a tight smile, though it feels more like a grimace.

“You didn’t exactly leave me much of a choice, did you?”

A low insidious chuckle leaves Naoya’s lips, the noise grating on your nerves. His cold calculating eyes hold your gaze as he tilts his head to the side, and for a moment, you feel like a mouse caught in a trap, every avenue of escape cut off, leaving you with nowhere to run.

“Tch. What else am I supposed to do?” his tone drips with mock innocence, as if he’s genuinely puzzled. “You don’t answer any of my calls. It’s almost like you’re trying to avoid me.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of something dark and unreadable passing through them.

“You look well, though. I’ve missed you.”

The casual cruelty in his tone, the way he throws out those words—words that should carry weight—as if they mean nothing, as if he hasn’t been tormenting you.

It makes your skin crawl.

“I didn’t come here to chat, Naoya,” you say firmly. “What do you want?”

You catch a flash of his white teeth in the dim light of the coffee shop, but there’s a cruel twist to his lips, a smugness that makes your stomach churn with unease.

“Straight to the point, I see. I always loved that about you,” he drawls, his tone almost affectionate.

He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other in a posture of relaxed arrogance.

There is a beat of silence as he pauses, as if savoring each moment of your discomfort, drawing it out and relishing the control he has over the situation.

The control he has over you.

“I think you know what I want, y/n,” he continues, tone almost patronizing, as if speaking to a child who just doesn’t understand. “I want what’s best for Haru. I’m sure you do too.”

“You’re threatening to take her away from me. How is that what’s best for her?” you scoff, though the defiance in your voice barely masks the trembling fear underneath.

His gaze roams over you, assessing, calculating, and it takes everything in you not to shrink under the weight of his scrutiny.

When he speaks again, his voice is a low, dangerous whisper that sends a shiver down your spine, cold as ice and sharp as a blade.

“Because,” he hisses, the word dripping with venom, “you’re not thinking clearly. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment. Haru deserves stability, a future where she’s not dragged into whatever mess you and Satoru are involved in.”

The accusation cuts deep, and despite your best efforts, you flinch slightly at his words, the reaction small but not unnoticed.

Naoya’s eyes glint with satisfaction, feeding off the fear and uncertainty he’s managed to briefly instill within you.

Before you can muster a response, he leans in closer, his tone shifting, becoming smooth and insidious, like poison seeping through the cracks of your resolve.

“Oh y/n,” he sighs, voice dripping with false sympathy, “I know this thing with Satoru is just a charade. You may think you’re merely playing house, but what you’re actually doing is setting Haru up for confusion and heartache. What kind of future is that for her?”

It’s like he’s pulled the rug out from under your feet. The air around you seems to thicken, making it hard to breathe. Because deep down, a part of you has feared how this arrangement may affect Haru.

The doubt that Naoya is sowing isn’t new—it’s something you’ve deliberately tried to ignore.

The connection Haru is forming with Satoru, the bond that’s growing stronger every day—isn’t it built on a foundation of lies?

What happens when it all crumbles—what happens to Haru then?

What if you’re setting her up for a heartbreak that she’s too young to understand?

Ah…but that’s what Naoya is good at, isn’t it?

He thrives on stirring a visceral reaction within you, on playing your emotions like a finely tuned instrument. And you know better—you know better than to believe that his actions have anything to do with Haru’s well-being.

After all, Naoya has only ever used Haru as a tool to control you, to manipulate you into doing his bidding.

He doesn’t truly want Haru—he never has.

This is just a twisted game, another attempt to bend you to his will.

“Naoya,” you begin, voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, “this isn’t about what’s best for Haru. Cut the crap,” you snap, the frustration seeping through your words, giving you a fleeting sense of strength. “Don’t play games with me. What are you really after?”

Naoya’s response is a soft, chilling chuckle, a sound so unnerving that it slithers around you, making your skin prickle with unease.

He tilts his head slightly, regarding you with a twisted sense of satisfaction, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk that’s as sharp as a knife’s edge.

“You’re not as naïve as you look,” he murmurs.

With a deliberate elegance, he runs his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back and straightening his posture as if ready to present himself for something significant. He then leans forward, fixing you with a gaze that feels like a vise tightening around your heart.

“I’m willing to make a deal with you.”

You swallow hard, forcing the question past the lump in your throat.

“What kind of deal?”

His eyes glisten with satisfaction, a spark of triumph lighting them up as if this is the moment he’s been waiting for all along.

“Do you remember the case that was quietly swept under the rug a few years back?” he begins, tone almost conversational. “The one that could have destroyed the Gojo family? Well of course, you don’t—because the Gojos made sure no one remembered.”

A cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach as the gravity of what he’s saying begins to sink in. You try to piece together what he could possibly mean, but the implications are too terrifying to fully grasp.

“…what are you saying?”

Naoya’s smirk widens, a cruel light flickering in his eyes as he watches your reaction.

“Oh, don’t play dumb, y/n. You know exactly what I’m talking about. The Gojo family isn’t as squeaky clean as they’d like everyone to believe. That closed case—it’s a time bomb waiting to go off, and I’m the one holding the detonator.”

With a casual elegance, Naoya places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I want you to help me reopen the case,” his voice now a silky, dangerous murmur. “I need inside information, something to poke holes in the Gojo family’s defense. Satoru trusts you, doesn’t he? He’s practically handed you the keys to the kingdom.”

Your blood runs cold as you grapple with the enormity of what he’s asking.

“You want me to spy on Satoru? To dig up dirt on his family?”

Naoya shrugs, the gesture so casual, so dismissive, as if the request is the most natural thing in the world.

“Spy is such an ugly word. Let’s call it… protecting your daughter’s future. You help me get the information I need, and I’ll make sure this custody battle disappears. You’ll never have to worry about losing Haru.”

You feel sick to your stomach as the full impact of his ultimatum crashes down on you.

Your skin crawls at the way he frames it—to him it’s as if he’s offering you a lifeline, a way out of an impossible situation. But the reality is, he’s trapping you, coercing you into betraying the one person who has given you a chance at a new life.

Betray Satoru?

The very thought twists like a knife in your gut.

Satoru—the man who has shown you nothing but kindness, who has gone out of his way to make you feel safe, to make you feel valued. The man who has opened his home to you and Haru, who has treated your daughter with a warmth and love that you never thought she would receive.

How could you possibly betray him? Be his downfall? The mere thought of it makes your chest tighten, your heart aching with the weight of the impossible decision that Naoya is forcing upon you.

But then, the other side of the coin looms large and terrifying: the risk of losing Haru forever. The thought of her being taken from you, of her being dragged into Naoya’s world, is a nightmare you can’t bear to even consider.

The two most important people in your life, and Naoya is forcing you to choose between them.

How can you possibly make such a choice?

“I…I can’t do that, Naoya. Satoru—he’s done nothing wrong,”

The words feel hollow, desperate, as if you’re grasping for some semblance of control in a situation where you have none.

Naoya’s expression darkens, the cold veneer of civility slipping as a more menacing presence takes over. He leans in closer, the air around him growing colder, heavier with the weight of his intentions.

“Satoru and his family deserve whatever’s coming to them,” he hisses. “You just have to decide whose side you’re on. Corporate malpractice, insider trading, possibly even a cover-up. The Gojo family has skeletons in their closet, and I intend to expose them. But to do that, I need information. Inside information.”

“No, Naoya,” you say more forcefully, your voice trembling slightly but growing steadier as your resolve hardens. “That would destroy Satoru.”

For a moment, there’s a flicker of something in Naoya’s eyes—frustration, perhaps, or irritation at your defiance. But it’s fleeting, quickly replaced by a darker, more calculating expression.

“You think this is a game, y/n?” his voice drips with disdain. “You think Satoru won’t throw you to the wolves the moment things get tough? He’s a Gojo, through and through. They protect their own, and you’re not one of them.”

A cold dread washes over you as his words echo in your mind, sinking into the darkest corners of your thoughts.

Wait…is he actually, right?

No—you push back against the rising tide of doubt. Satoru wouldn’t do that. He’s been nothing but kind, patient, and understanding. He’s given you no reason to believe he would ever abandon you, especially not in a moment of crisis.

But… then there’s the stipulation in your contract. The one that states any poor publicity to his name would result in being cut off from all financial support.

The words of the contract flash in your mind, stark and unforgiving.

You had brushed it off as a mere formality when you first signed it, a precautionary clause meant to protect his reputation. But now, under the weight of Naoya’s words, it feels like a ticking time bomb, ready to go off the moment anything goes wrong.

Doubt seeps into your veins, intertwining with the fear that Naoya’s threat might have more truth to it than you’d like to admit.

Could Satoru really turn his back on you if the situation spiraled out of control? Would he prioritize his family name, his legacy, over you and Haru?

Seeing the flicker of hesitation in your eyes, Naoya’s expression softens, adopting a mask of concern. His voice lowers, becoming almost gentle, as if he’s offering you a lifeline.

“But if you help me,” he continues, silky and persuasive, “you’ll have leverage—real power. You’ll be in control. Think about Haru. Think about what’s best for her.”

“I… I don’t think I can do it,” the words escape your lips in a trembling whisper.

Naoya’s eyes narrow, and his voice hardens.

“You don’t have much of a choice, y/n. You’re in this mess because of your own decisions. Instead of relying on me you chose him. But lucky for you, I’m offering you a way out—a way to keep Haru safe. But if you refuse, I will use every legal trick in the book to take her from you. And believe me, I will win. I always do.”

The finality in his words leaves no room for doubt—Naoya isn’t bluffing.

He’s a man who gets what he wants, no matter the cost, and the ruthless determination in his eyes tells you that he’s more than willing to destroy your life to achieve his goals.

“You’re a monster,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Naoya’s response is immediate, his smirk widening with satisfaction.

“I’m a lawyer,” he corrects, his tone dripping with smugness. “And I’m very good at what I do.”

You look down, unable to meet his gaze.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” you whisper.

Naoya’s eyes gleam with triumph as a victorious smirk curls upon his lips. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a slim envelope.

With a deliberate slowness, he slides it across the table, the paper making a soft, ominous rustle as it comes to a stop in front of you.

“Inside this is everything you need to help me. I want information, y/n. Information on Satoru. His business dealings, his vulnerabilities—anything I can use to gain leverage over him.”

The envelope sits there between you, a tangible representation of the impossible choice you’re being forced to make.

Your hands twitch at your sides, but you can’t bring yourself to reach for it—the burden of its contents is far too heavy.

Naoya leans back in his chair, watching intently for any sign of hesitation, his gaze unyielding. He presses you again, his voice a smooth, sinister whisper.

“You help me, and I’ll make sure this custody battle disappears. You’ll never have to worry about losing Haru.”

Your hand trembles as you extend it, hovering over the envelope. Naoya’s grin widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph, anticipating your surrender.

But just as your fingertips brush the envelope, you stop.

The smile slips from Naoya’s face, replaced by a flicker of surprise, then annoyance, as you push the envelope back across the table. The cold edge of the paper scrapes against your skin, the sound eerily loud in the tense silence between you.

“I’ll need some time,” you say finally, your voice quieter now, more controlled, though it takes everything in you to keep it steady. “This isn’t a decision I can make lightly.”

Naoya’s expression darkens, his patience clearly waning. With a swift, almost irritated motion, he snatches the envelope and tucks it back into his coat pocket.

“I’m not a patient man, y/n, you know this,” he warns, the threat clear in his tone. “You have one week. If I don’t get an answer by then, the custody battle begins. And trust me,” his tone drops to a menacing whisper, “you don’t want to fight me in court.”

“I’ll let you know,” you murmur, unable to meet his gaze as your eyes are fixed on the table between you.

Naoya’s smirk returns, a slow, victorious curve of his lips.

It’s a look that says he’s already won, that he’s confident you’ll bend to his will.

“Good girl. I know you’ll see reason. I’ll expect your call soon.”

He stands with a deliberate calmness, smoothing the front of his jacket before tossing a few bills onto the table as if this entire conversation has been nothing more than a routine business transaction.

The casualness of his movements, the ease with which he holds your fate in his hands, only serves to deepen the pit of dread forming in your stomach.

“Think it over, love. I’ll be in touch.”

With those final words, Naoya turns and strides out of the coffee shop, leaving you sitting there, feeling as though the walls are closing in around you.

You can’t shake the feeling that no matter what you decide, something precious will be lost.

ꨄ

It’s much later than you intended—a few hours past the time you told Satoru you’d be home. But after your meeting with Naoya, you simply couldn’t summon the strength to face him.

How could you possibly stand before him now?

The very thought of looking into his eyes feels like a betrayal in itself, as if the truth you’re hiding might spill out just from his gaze alone.

Naoya’s words continue to echo in your mind, twisting around your thoughts like a serpent coiling tighter with each passing moment.

You can almost hear the whispers of scandal creeping through the corridors of the Gojo Corporation.

Surely this custody battle would bring poor publicity to Satoru’s name… knowing Naoya, it would be a spectacle—a media circus designed to tarnish every aspect of Satoru’s life.

Your heart races as you picture the headlines splashed across every tabloid, the relentless swarm of reporters, cameras flashing like a thousand tiny daggers aimed at your very soul.

They’d dig into every corner of your lives, twisting facts and fabricating lies until the truth is buried beneath layers of sensationalism.

You’ve seen Satoru’s world—perfectly organized, meticulously maintained, a reflection of the man himself. But Naoya has the power to create cracks in that perfect image, to expose the vulnerabilities hidden beneath the surface.

He would ensure it—he’d savor every moment of watching Satoru’s pristine reputation crumble, brick by brick.

What would Satoru do if you told him Naoya’s intentions?

Would he support you, or would he choose to protect himself, his legacy, over you and Haru?

The very thought makes your heart ache, a sharp pang of fear twisting through your chest—fear of losing the delicate balance you’ve found with Satoru, of watching it all unravel because of Naoya’s malice.

What is the right choice to make?

The question loops endlessly in your mind, a never-ending cycle of doubt that gnaws at your resolve.

You don’t know what to believe any more.

You need time—something you don’t have an abundance of right now. After all, you can’t avoid Satoru forever—he’ll wonder where you’ve been, what’s kept you away for so long.

And so, reluctantly, with a heart heavy and unresolved emotions, you return home.

ꨄ

The faint ticking of the grand clock echoes in the house as you creak open the door and re-enter. The sound, which usually blends into the background of your day, now feels loud—almost deafening in the silence of the home.

Rounding your way to the living room, the dim glow of the television casts flickering shadows on the walls—the only thing that seems alive in the stillness.

But the sight you are met with is something entirely unexpected—something that pushes away the darkness inside of you, if only for a moment.

Satoru sits on the couch, his posture relaxed but his expression one of bemused helplessness, as though he’s found himself in a situation that he’s not quite sure how to navigate.

His long legs are stretched out in front of him, but there’s a tenderness in the way he holds his arms around the small figure resting against him.

Haru, curled up on his lap, is nestled against his chest, her tiny body rising and falling with each gentle breath as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat seems to lull her deeper into sleep. One of her small hands clutches the fabric of his shirt, as if seeking comfort even in her dreams, while the other is tucked close to her body, holding her favorite plush toy—Pikachu.

The TV is on, but the volume is muted, playing some late-night rerun that neither of them are paying attention to as the soft flickering light illuminates against them.

Satoru glances up as you enter the room, eyes brightening as he spots you. A sheepish smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a mixture of relief and quiet joy at your return.

“Hey, welcome back,” he says softly, careful not to disturb Haru.

It’s moments like this, that make it impossible to doubt him. The warmth in his voice makes the knot of tension in your chest loosen, if only a little.

You manage a small smile in return.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

As you begin to set your things down—your bag, your coat—Satoru’s gaze follows you, soft and attentive.

“Did you enjoy your time to yourself?”

It’s such a simple question, yet it’s loaded with the weight of the lie you’re living.

You force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels, and nod, trying to keep your voice steady and light.

“Yeah…it was nice to have a little break.”

A tender smile curls upon his lips, his relief evident as he nods back.

“Good. You deserve some time for yourself.”

The words are filled with such warmth and care that it almost breaks you. But you swallow down the guilt, knowing you can’t afford to let it show. Not now.

As you make your way towards him, your gaze softens, drawn irresistibly to the sight of Haru. You kneel down beside the couch, your eyes tracing the delicate lines of her face, so peaceful and content as she rests in Satoru's lap.

“She fell asleep?” your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, shifting slightly but careful not to wake her.

“Yeah. We were watching Digimon like I promised, but she conked out halfway through. I didn’t know what to do, so I’ve just been sitting here for the past two hours.”

Your heart swells at his words—the thought of Satoru sitting there, his world seemingly paused just to let her sleep undisturbed, truly that is real… right?

You reach out and gently brush a strand of hair from Haru’s face, your fingers lingering for a moment on her cheek.

Her skin warm and smooth, her breathing steady and calm, the gentle rise and fall of her chest—each element is a testament to the trust she’s placed in this space that Satoru has helped create.

She looks so at peace, so completely untroubled and…it’s all thanks to Satoru.

You can’t stop the words from slipping out, even though they’re laced with the bittersweet ache of everything that’s happened.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his. “For everything.”

He smiles at you, that soft, understanding smile that always seems to reach his eyes.

“Of course. She’s a wonderful kid. It’s my pleasure.”

Leaning down, you gently scoop Haru into your arms, cradling her small body against you. She stirs slightly, her little face scrunching up in sleep, but she doesn’t wake, simply burrowing closer to you as you hold her, seeking the comfort of your warmth.

“I’ll put her to bed,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Satoru watches you with a fond smile, his eyes following you as you move towards the stairway.

“y/n,” he calls after you, his tone a little hesitant.

You turn back to face him, noticing the subtle way his expression has shifted—an unspoken concern lingering in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I need to tell you…” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck—a gesture you’ve come to recognize as his way of showing uncertainty. “It’s kind of short notice, but we were invited to a big charity gala tomorrow night. It’s a pretty important event, and they’re expecting us to attend. And, well… we’re anticipated to do an interview this time.”

Ah—the discomfort returns in an instant, like a cold shiver racing down your spine.

The weight of his words settles heavily on your shoulders, adding yet another layer of complexity to the tangled web you find yourself ensnared in.

The thought of standing in front of cameras, of answering questions about a relationship that is already so fraught with secrets and lies, sends your mind spiraling into a storm of anxiety.

But you can’t let any of that show. Not now.

Not when Satoru is looking at you with such sincerity, his blue eyes filled with a quiet expectation, clearly relying on you to be by his side through this.

You force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels.

“Another gala, huh?”

He nods, his expression softening slightly, but the tension doesn’t leave his eyes.

“Yeah, this one’s for a good cause, and, well, appearances matter. It’s important that we present a united front.”

Appearances matter. A bitter reminder of Naoya’s taunting words.

Satoru is a Gojo after all—and for a Gojo, appearances are everything. The pristine image he maintains is not just for show; it’s a fundamental part of who he is, of the world he navigates with such ease.

But where does that leave you? What happens the moment you mess up?

You’ve always been terrible at public speaking, and now you’re expected to partake in an interview?

Will his soft expression turn cold the moment you fail to meet his expectations?

Your heart races, but you push the fear down, locking it away behind a carefully constructed mask of composure.

“Okay,” you swallow. “We’ll figure it out.”

Satoru’s expression softens with visible relief, and he stands up, stretching slightly after having sat in the same position for so long. As his arms extend above his head, the hem of his shirt lifts, revealing a fleeting glimpse of his toned abs.

“Thanks, y/n. I know this whole public thing isn’t easy, but… I really appreciate you doing this with me.”

“Of course,” you manage to say, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “…we’re in this together, right?”

“Yeah. Together.”

The words feel like a betrayal, a dagger of guilt twisting in your chest.

How can you say that when you know what you’re hiding?

How can you say that when you doubt the very man in front of you?

Pushing those thoughts away, you try to focus on the moment, on Satoru’s gentle, almost boyish grin. Despite it all, it’s the kind of smile that makes you want to believe everything will be okay, that makes you want to cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you will get through this.

There is a beat of silence as you shift Haru’s weight slightly in your arms.

You study his face—the subtle vulnerability there, the softness, it makes you think—maybe, just maybe, you can open up to him. Test the waters, gauge his understanding.

Let’s start small… what if you told him your fear of public speaking?

The words hover on the tip of your tongue, a confession that feels both terrifying and necessary.

Would he laugh? Would he brush it off with one of his easy, confident smiles?

Or would he understand, see the anxiety that lies beneath the surface, and offer the reassurance you so desperately need?

Your heart races as you weigh the options, the fear of rejection battling with the desire for connection.

Finally, you take a deep breath, deciding to take the plunge. It’s a small step, but it feels monumental in the moment.

“I’m… I’m not really good with public speaking,” you admit quietly, your gaze lowering to the floor. “Maybe we could practice a little? Just so I don’t mess up.”

For a moment, there’s silence.

When you finally dare to look up, you see Satoru’s expression softening even further, a gentle warmth radiating from his eyes as he gazes at you.

The way he looks at you, so full of understanding, so free of judgment—it makes your chest tighten.

“Of course, we can. I actually prepared a script earlier today, just in case you may need it. We can go over it together after you put Haru to bed.”

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“Thank you, Satoru… that would really help.”

Why did you doubt him?

Did Naoya instill that doubt? Or has it always been there, lurking in the shadows of your mind, waiting for the right moment to surface?

The question lingers, a quiet whisper that carries both regret and self-reproach.

He had anticipated your need, had prepared for it without you even asking.

On one hand you feel relief that he’s so understanding, but guilt practically consumes it because now his trust feels like a weight you can’t bear.

It seems at this point, there is no winning for you.

No matter which way you turn, you’re trapped—caught between the desire to commit to him completely and the fear that you’ll inevitably fall short of his expectations.

Your mind is at a constant battle.

“No problem,” he says, his voice pulling you back to the present. He reaches for the remote, turning off the TV, the screen fading to black as the room is cast into a quieter, more intimate atmosphere.

He glances back at you, his expression warm but focused.

“Meet you in the study after you put Haru down?”

Not trusting yourself to speak, you nod, and turn, heading up the stairs towards Haru’s bedroom.

In the quiet of Haru’s room, you smooth the covers around her small, peaceful form and press a soft kiss on her forehead.

You take a moment to just sit there, watching her sleep—a moment to collect yourself before you return to Satoru.

The soft rise and fall of her chest, the slight twitch of her fingers as she dreams, it all serves as a reminder of the innocence you’re trying so desperately to protect.

You can’t risk losing her. Haru is everything to you.

But how long can you maintain this lie, this pretense that everything is okay, when the truth threatens to tear it all apart?

The mere thought of Haru being taken away, of Naoya sinking his claws into her life, makes your blood run cold.

Right now, you want nothing more than to break down, to cry, to let the tears that have been welling up inside you finally fall.

But you can’t afford to do that. Not now.

Sometimes the difficult thing about being a parent is putting on a front that everything is okay... that everything will be okay, even when it feels like it will not be.

You have to be strong, not just for yourself, but for Haru. She needs you to be her rock, her anchor in the storm, even if you feel like you’re barely holding on.

You pull back, your hand lingering on the edge of her bed for just a moment longer, savoring the last bit of peace before you straighten up, steeling yourself for the next challenge that you must face.

ꨄ

As you enter the study, the door closes behind you with a soft click.

Satoru looks up, sitting at the large mahogany desk, papers spread out in front of him as he offers you a small, reassuring smile. He gestures to the chair beside him.

“Ready?”

You nod, pulling out the chair and sitting down, the leather cushion sinking slightly under your weight.

Leaning forward, Satoru props his elbow on the table as he studies you with soft, focused eyes.

“So, let’s start with the basics. They’ll probably ask how we met, what drew us together... you know, easy stuff.”

He slides the script over to you.

You take the paper, your eyes skimming over the questions—questions that are so casual on the surface.

They’re questions that, for most couples, would evoke warm memories and easy smiles. But the simplicity of these questions only highlights the complexity of the situation.

They should feel easy to answer—answers that would roll off the tongue naturally if your relationship was carved from normal circumstances.

But, that’s not the situation you find yourself in.

The reality of your arrangement makes each question feel like a test—a hurdle you need to clear without revealing too much.

If only it were different—if only the answers could come from a place of truth rather than a carefully constructed narrative.

But it’s not.

This relationship is a contract, a charade—a web of lies.

You nod again, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Alright,” Satoru says, his tone encouraging. “Let’s give it a go. I’ll ask, you answer.”

He clears his throat and starts with the first question.

“So, y/n, how did you and Satoru first meet?”

You take a deep breath, the familiar answer already on the tip of your tongue.

This one is easy because it’s part of the story you’ve both been telling from the beginning. Still, your fingers fidget with the corner of the script, as if grounding yourself in the words.

“I was looking for a new job, and Satoru needed someone with my expertise. It was professional at first, but we just… clicked. Like it was meant to be.”

“Perfect,” he says, tone approving.

He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Now…what drew you to each other?”

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to the script in your hands. The paper crinkles slightly under your fingers as you try to commit the answer to memory, but the words feel heavy, loaded with the pressure to say the right thing.

Satoru notices your pause and tilts his head, a gentle smile lingering on his lips.

“I was thinking we keep it simple,” he suggests, his eyes locking onto yours with a reassuring calm. “I’ll talk about how I admire how you always put Haru first. People eat that stuff up.”

“Right,” you nod, your voice a little lighter now. “Then how about I talk about how you’re always so supportive and how you’ve made Haru and me feel safe.”

Satoru’s grin broadens, the corners of his mouth curling into a familiar, playful expression. He lets out a contemplative hum, as if considering your words carefully, and then reaches over to tap the tip of your nose playfully.

The touch is light, almost teasing, but it carries with it a sense of warmth, of genuine affection.

“And you can say something about how I’m the most charming, good-looking guy you’ve ever met.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips, the sound carrying with it a sense of relief you hadn’t realized you needed—like exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Your heaviness lifts, replaced by a lightness that feels almost foreign in the midst of all the pressure.

Satoru always seems to know how to break through your tension.

It’s one of the things you’ve come to appreciate about him during this arrangement—the way he can make you laugh, even when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.

“Of course, because modesty is your best trait,” you grin, and without thinking, you poke his side gently, eliciting a small chuckle from him. “If I say that, I’m certain it would only go straight to your head.”

“Hmm, what can I say? Confidence is key,” he grins, eyes twinkling with that mischievous spark you’ve come to recognize.

You lean back and fold your arms across your chest in a mock gesture of contemplation, your eyes narrowing slightly as you consider his words.

“Confidence? Or arrogance?” you retort, a smirk playing on your lips. “It’s a fine line, Satoru.”

He gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if you’ve struck a mortal blow.

“Arrogance? Me? I’m wounded, truly,” he declares, his voice dripping with exaggerated hurt, though the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth betrays the act.

“Right…I think I might have to bring you back down to earth,” your voice carries a note of a playful challenge.

“Glad to know I can count on you,” he replies, leaning back slightly as he comfortably puts his hands behind his neck in a relaxed confidence. “But let’s not forget—you’re the one who’s supposed to be singing my praises. Remember? Charming, good-looking…”

“And don’t forget humble,” you add, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Ah, yes, the humblest,” he agrees, nodding solemnly as if he’s just imparted some great wisdom.

But the solemnity only lasts a moment before he breaks into another grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I’ve always been known for my humility.”

You can’t help but laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief at his antics. This fleeting sense of normalcy was everything you needed. It almost makes you forget the storm of emotions raging inside you.

“Wow. At this point, I think your ego has its own zip code,” you quip, rolling your eyes.

He grins, but then, with a small, exaggerated sigh, he drops his head down onto the table, resting it on his folded arms as he pouts dramatically.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try to keep my ego in check,” he mumbles, his voice slightly muffled.

Here is a man who commands boardrooms and makes decisions that influence entire industries, pouting like a child in front of you.

It’s kind of cute, actually, that the powerful CEO can be this… unguarded, this silly, this human.

In these moments, all the layers he wears—of strength, of authority, of responsibility—seem to peel away, leaving behind just… Satoru.

After a moment, he lifts his head just enough to look at you, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint.

“You know… people tell me I’m charming and good-looking all the time, but… I think it’d feel different coming from you. I wouldn’t mind hearing it… just once.”

Your breath catches for a fleeting moment as you observe a glimpse of something in his eyes, something deeper than the usual teasing.

The way he says it, with that mix of playfulness and sincerity, makes your heart flutter in a way you’re not entirely prepared for.

Would it be so bad to indulge him?

“You’re… easy on the eyes,” you say, your voice softer, almost shy.

It’s not quite the grand compliment he was fishing for, but it’s enough to make him smile—the kind of smile that lights up his entire face, making it impossible not to smile back.

“Well, I’ll take that,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, and for just a moment, everything else falls away.

But then, as if unable to resist, Satoru props his head up in the palm of his hand and leans in just a little closer, his smile turning slightly smug.

“You know, you could say it again if you really wanted to. I mean, I’m all ears.”

You raise an eyebrow, a grin tugging at your lips as you catch onto his game.

“Don’t push your luck, Satoru,” you warn, though your tone is more amused than serious. “Let’s get back to work.”

Satoru chuckles, leaning back with a mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. Back to work it is.”

The world outside fades away—the complications, the secrets, the uncertainty of what tomorrow holds—all of it dissolves into the background as you share this brief moment of connection with Satoru.

It’s as if time itself has slowed, allowing you to bask in the warmth of this exchange, to let the comfort of Satoru’s presence ease the weight of your worries.

But the moment can’t last forever.

The reality of your situation looms just beyond the edges of this moment, reminding you of the stakes, of the careful balance you’re trying to maintain.

After all, there’s still work to be done, and as much as you’d like to linger here, in this bubble of lightheartedness, you know you need to keep moving forward.

ꨄ

The hours slip by, and you go over each possible scenario, each potential curveball the interviewers might throw your way.

The script between you becomes both a shield and a lifeline, something to cling to as you navigate the complexities of everything.

Satoru’s voice is steady and reassuring as he guides you through your responses. When you stumble—when the nerves threaten to get the better of you—he’s there with gentle corrections.

His words never harsh or critical, but rather encouraging, help you find your footing again. And whenever he senses the tension rising—the anxiety creeping into your expression—he cracks a joke, designed to draw you back from the edge of your worry.

You find yourself leaning on him more than you expected, his confidence bolstering your own, his belief in you seeping into the cracks of your self-doubt, and with each passing hour, the fear that had settled in your chest begins to ease, replaced by a cautious optimism that maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to pull this off.

After running through the script for what feels like the hundredth time, Satoru leans back in his chair—the soft smile tugging at his lips telling you that he’s genuinely pleased with your progress.

“I think you’re ready,” his voice is filled with a quiet confidence. “You’ve got this. Now, you should probably get some rest... it's getting late.”

His words are a welcome relief, washing over you like a balm after the tension of the evening. You nod, feeling the exhaustion from the long day finally catching up to you—all you can think about is the comfort of your bed.

But as you begin to stand, you notice that Satoru remains seated. His posture, which had been so relaxed just moments before, now seems slightly more tense as he appears to be focused on something distant, something you can’t quite place.

The shift is subtle, but it’s enough to give you pause.

“Aren’t you coming?” you ask mid-step, your voice tentative, a hint of concern creeping in.

Satoru looks up at your question, the distant look in his eyes fading as his focus returns to you. His expression softens, the edges of his smile returning, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No,” he replies, tone gentle but firm. “I’ve got some other business I need to take care of. But don’t worry about it,” he adds quickly, as if sensing your concern. “You should get some rest. You’ve done more than enough for tonight.”

There’s something about the way he says it, the way he brushes off your concern so easily, that makes you hesitate.

Is there something he’s not telling you? Or perhaps, choosing to handle on his own?

There’s a slight droop of his shoulders and his fingers absently drum against the armrest of his chair—a silent rhythm betraying the thoughts running through his mind.

You want to push, to ask him what’s really going on, but something holds you back.

Maybe it’s the way his eyes seem to plead with you to let it go, to trust him when he says it’s nothing you need to worry about.

Or maybe it’s the exhaustion that’s finally settling into your bones, making it harder to think clearly, to muster the energy for another round of questions.

So, instead, you nod again, offering him a small, understanding smile.

“Alright.  Just… don’t stay up too late, okay?”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and though it eases some of your worry, it doesn’t completely dispel it.

“I’ll try not to,” he promises, though you’re not entirely convinced. “Go on, get some sleep. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Making your way down the hallway, the soft light of the bedroom is a welcoming beacon at the end.

The prospect of finally getting rest is almost too tempting to resist, but as you near the door, something tugs at you—a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that refuses to be ignored.

It’s not fair, you think to yourself—pausing just before the threshold of your bedroom.

Satoru stayed up late, helping you with the interview questions, guiding you through each potential challenge with patience and care...and now, he’s left alone to handle his own business needs while you get to sleep.

There was a weariness in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, a quiet weight that he seemed determined to hide from you.

Why is he shouldering the responsibility when you agreed you would lead Gojo Corporation together?

The thought gnaws at you, making it hard to turn away.

You sigh, torn between the exhaustion weighing you down and the guilt pushing you forward.

Finally, you decide it’s only right to offer your help, even if just to make sure he’s not taking on too much by himself—and so, with renewed determination, you turn on your heel and quietly make your way back down the hall.

As you approach the door to the study, you’re about to knock when you hear his voice, low and serious, coming from inside. You pause, your hand hovering just inches from the wood, and listen.

“No. That’s not an option. We can’t afford any negative press right now, especially with everything that’s happening.”

Satoru’s voice is firm, almost biting, a tone you’re not used to hearing from him. The usual warmth that so often laces his words is gone, stripped away and replaced by something colder, more calculating.

There’s a pause, and you can faintly hear the murmur of someone on the other end of the line, though their words are indistinct through the phone.

Whatever they’re saying seems to only harden Satoru’s resolve.

“I don’t care what it takes,” Satoru continues, his voice dropping lower, the words coming out with an icy sharpness that feels almost like a threat. “Take care of it. Make sure this stays under wraps. My image can’t take a hit like that, not now.”

Your heart skips a beat, an uneasy feeling creeping up your spine—the warmth of the moment you shared earlier evaporating in an instant.

He sounds different—distant, devoid of the tenderness you’ve come to know… cold.

The man who just hours ago was patient and supportive, who made you feel safe and cared for, now seems like someone else entirely—replaced with this man who seems to care more about maintaining an image than anything else.

Whatever the voice on the other end of the phone says next makes Satoru sigh, a tired, almost frustrated sound.

You inch closer to the door, your breath shallow as you strain to hear more, but his voice drops lower, slipping into a tone that’s more guarded, more secretive.

“Yes, I know it’s not ideal, but it’s necessary,” Satoru says, his words clipped, as if he’s weighing each one carefully before letting it fall. “We have to protect the Gojo name at all costs. And that includes… well, you know what it includes. Just handle it.”

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

…what does that include? The vague words hang in the air and you feel a sharp stab of anxiety.

You feel a lump form in your throat as you back away from the door, the doubts you’d tried so hard to push aside earlier now crashing back with full force, overwhelming you.

What is he talking about? What could be so important that it needs to be kept under wraps at all costs?

Questions race through your mind, each one more unsettling than the last.

And what did he mean by “protecting the Gojo name”? Is that all this is to him—just a carefully crafted image that needs to be maintained, no matter the cost?

The thought stings, a sharp pain that cuts deeper the more you dwell on it.

You can’t help but wonder, as you stand there in the dimly lit hallway, if you’ll ever truly know where his priorities lie.

The man who once seemed so open, so transparent with you, now feels like a stranger—someone who might not be as trustworthy as you’d hoped.

Will he choose to protect you and Haru, or will he always put his image, his family name, first?

The doubt gnaws at you, growing with each passing second, until it feels like a weight you can barely carry.

You retreat further, your heart pounding in your chest, the sound of it almost drowning out the murmured conversation from the study.

The light at the end of the hallway seems so far away now, the warmth and safety you’d felt earlier slipping through your fingers like sand.

As you finally turn and make your way back to your bedroom, each step is heavier than the last—a shadow cast on everything you thought you knew.

The warmth of the bed offers you little comfort as you slip under the covers, and your mind replays the conversation over and over again.

As much as you want to believe in him, in the connection you share, the seeds of doubt have been planted.

You're uncertain if you're ready for what's to come—the interview, the public scrutiny, or the complicated feelings that have begun to tangle between you and Satoru.

But throughout all this uncertainty, there is one thing that is without a doubt evident.

You still have a decision to make.

a/n. poor y/n can't catch a break...girl is going through it. man i cannot tell you how much i enjoyed writing the coffee shop scene with naoya though, idk it was just so satisfying to write, i literally despise naoya so much lol. and satoru being so clueless with haru 🥲 he sat there for two hours 🤭 he's such a goof. anyways, i really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and i hope you're ready for what's to come! thanks so much for reading 🥺 seriously, your comments make my day. much love 🫶🏻 → onto the next chapterꨄ

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[xo2dee]

🗨️ ENTOMBED

PAIRING: Vergil/(Fem)Reader. WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Implied Sexual Content, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved!Vergil, Mentions of Violence, PTSD. WORD COUNT: 975. SUMMARY: He was not used to wanting in such a desirable sense. Not until you.

A/N: touch-starved vergil is real

source: me

DMC MASTERLIST

Touch had been a foreign concept to him for so long.

On the surface level touch was just the one of the five senses he was aware of – perhaps heightened to an extent more than he would’ve enjoyed but one he relied on in the expanse of his life. He was used to it mainly doing what he did best… fighting. Fighting and surviving.

For the longest time, Vergil’s only idea of touch was that of a destructive means (only distant memories of his mother’s soft embrace remained, or his twin’s incessant kicks diving into his ribs as they slept when they were nothing but toddlers). The only thing he knew about touching another was if his sword slid through their flesh and he had to flick the blood off of his blade –

(Or his own sword was through his gut, broken off as the shards in his flesh dipped and cut into his pancreas and intestines. His skin greying and pulling itself apart as he ripped off blackened armor bonded into his bones that he’d been a slave to for more than half of his life. His fingers with broken nails tracing the cracks that had manifested into his face as his arm jerked when he could feel the faint presence of the Yamato.)

– but other than that, he never cared for (and maybe even shunned) the idea of touching another living, breathing person.

He was well accustomed to touch and everything it’d done to ruin him. What he wasn’t used to was the wanting of a touch. Normal mundane things: a body brushing against his, hands ghosting by his own, or even something bold like the whisper of lips like silk pushing into his. His dreams were of fire and bloodshed, a crumbling home and the faces of his broken family, but never had they strayed into a territory of indulging in another’s body. Once he’d done it and even then, only a hollow hole remained in the place where he yearned for something far from his grasp; desiring a touch only made him feel sick.  

He was not used to wanting in such a desirable sense.

Not until you.

The first time your hand skimmed his cheek, he almost cursed whenever he felt his head lean into the warmth of your palm – chasing a touch he had no purpose for receiving.

Then the first time you kissed him Vergil nearly felt his brain short-circuit from the rush of endorphins, and then he realized he would never be able to get enough and that he’d never be able to let you go.

And the first time he was able to feel your naked body lie down next to him, he couldn’t help the flinch his body gave born from the idea of seeming so… vulnerable. Yet, the memory and feeling of it was forever engraved into his mind and forbidden to ever leave the consciousness where it resided. The first time had been rough, from his teeth to his hands, to your nails and gasps, only knowing touch through a violent means, but then times after became nothing but a security of safety and perfection brought on by a soothing touch of your presence.

Your body glistening in the moonlight, the beads of sweat trailing down the expanse of your skin (so unmarred and too soft for his undeserving palms), and the heave of your chest were pleasing enough, though it was the heat your body that he gravitated the most towards. He hated how he felt like a hormonal teenager again when it came to you, completely entrapped by emotions he was sure he had completely got rid of years ago. However, he supposed he was able to blame it on the absence of having control over his own body for more years than he’d like to remember, and having free reign over himself was birthing an influx of emotions he was struggling to control.

And yet, even throughout all the difficulties he may have brought and the agonizing gap you must have felt waiting for him to come around, you stayed there for him.

Vergil could never help himself when his head would lay against your chest, telling himself it was only to listen to the steady thrum of your heartbeat – just a reminder that you were real, alive, and that you were allowing him to do so, but really it was a sense of safety to cradle himself in your warmth and comforting smell. He would lie to himself and say his body wasn’t relaxing whenever your fingers ran through the thick tresses of his hair, being cautious in the way you would do it as if you were afraid he’d up and run away. And maybe he’d thought about it before, too much of it overstimulating him and unfamiliar, but he couldn’t find it in him to rip himself away from you when the tenderness your body gave to his was unlike nothing he’d ever felt before. He practically layered himself into you every time your arms curled around his back, an unbidden fear in the back of his mind that you would disappear like everything else had from him.

Though each morning when he woke you were still there, still offering the same solace you continued to bring him as you always had. And perhaps sometimes a dark part of his mind still haunted his ears briefly by a voice he’d long since shut out would whisper that the feeling wouldn’t last long, and sometimes he might’ve listened, but you still remained there bathed in the light waiting for him to come back from the deep recesses where he’d retreated and offering up the comfort your soul brought.

As long as you still smiled and held him, Vergil would believe himself to be worthy of your touch.

[stellarsecrets86]

Pluto in Houses of the Groom Persona Chart

[Pluto is associated with transformation, power, intensity, and deep desires in a groom's chart. It governs the hidden aspects of his personality and reflects how he deals with change, control, and intimacy in relationships. Pluto, in groom pc, may show how emotionally intense he is, his way of trusting people or being vulnerable, and how he handles power in the relationship.Pluto can also symbolize karmic relationships, which is very useful to see if his marriage is a transformative or fated one. A well-placed Pluto would reveal a bridegroom who loves intense, deep relationships and is attracted to life-changing relationships.]

(PS: For Entertainment Purpose Only. Have Fun!❤️)

1st House

The groom is intense and charismatic, with a strong attraction for people towards his persona. He could be mysterious or commanding, but above all, a strong presence no one can easily avoid. He looks for a partner in relationships who would understand his depth and not be afraid of his intensity. His journey in life is one of self-transformation, usually born out of personal crises or challenges. Though this may make him resilient, the tendency to dominate or control may arise. His partner needs to encourage open communication in order to balance his strong will. This placement would indicate a groom whose relationships are karmically marked by growth and self-discovery.

2nd House

Pluto in the 2nd house indicates that the groom gives much importance to financial stability and personal values. He seeks control over his resources and may experience transformations in his financial life, especially after marriage. In relationships, he values a partner who supports his goals and shares his vision for growth. However, he may struggle with possessiveness or equating love with material security. His partner should nourish his emotional side while helping him find his balance. This placement often shows that the groom's approach to money and what he values in life will change profoundly during his lifetime.

3rd House

This placement indicates that the groom is intense in his communication. He is a profound thinker and often has deep, life-changing conversations. In relationships, he seeks intellectual depth and a partner who will challenge his ideas and stimulate his mind. His words can cut deep, though, and he needs to avoid being controlling or critical in discussions. This placement can also indicate a transformative relationship with siblings or close relatives. His ideal partner encourages his intellectual pursuits and helps him channel his intensity into productive communication.

4th House

The groom's emotional depth and transformation are tied to his family and home life. He might have had a difficult childhood and thus seeks deep emotional connections in his marriage. His ideal partner is someone who understands his need for security and emotional depth. This placement often indicates a deep, transformative bond with his spouse, as marriage becomes a cornerstone for his growth. However, he may have difficulty letting go of traumatic experiences from his family's past, which a partner can help him work through. A relationship works well for him when based upon trust and emotional sincerity.

5th House

With Pluto here, the groom approaches romance and creativity with passion and power. He is naturally attracted to love affairs that are dramatic and possibly life-changing. He looks for a partner in marriage who will fuel his creative energy and share his zest for life. Passionate and loving, yet sometimes overwhelming or controlling-emotions are a part of his makeup. His partner needs to balance his intensity with lightness and encourage healthy self-expression. This placement also promises great creative potential, usually inspired by love and personal change.

6th House

The groom is deeply committed to self-improvement and service. He seeks a partner who values growth and transformation as much as he does. In relationships, he expresses love through acts of service and commitment to shared goals. But he may struggle with perfectionism or overthinking. A partner can encourage him toward balance and the need to focus on emotional fulfillment with his practical pursuits. This placement often reveals that marriage will be the key to his personal growth and transformation.

7th House

Pluto in the 7th house indicates intense, transformative relationships. The groom is attracted to powerful partners who challenge him and ignite growth. Marriage is a very deep experience for him; it usually involves themes of power, trust, and emotional vulnerability. While deeply loyal, he may struggle with possessiveness or fear of betrayal. His perfect match is somebody who recognizes his depth and would like open and frank communication, avoiding the play of power in the relationship. This placement suggests that the marriage will be a transformative journey, shaping both partners in profound ways.

8th House

This is Pluto's natural house, intensifying the emotional depth of the groom and his need for intimacy. He is deeply passionate and looks for a companion with whom he can share the deepest thoughts and feelings. Trust and vulnerability form the pivot of his relationships, and he may undergo much change through marriage. However, at times his intensity could overwhelm his partner. His ideal spouse would be somebody with a similar emotional depth but could help him find his balance. This placement also promises a strong focus on shared resources and spiritual growth within the marriage.

9th House

The groom seeks transformation through travel, education, and spiritual growth. He is attracted to a partner who would invoke his sense of adventure and make him see things from another angle. Marriage is an evolving process for growth together. Though open-minded, his convictions may run deep, causing occasional conflicts. His partner should encourage him in intellectual exploration but also allow his convictions. This placement promises his relationship will expand his horizons and lead to profound personal growth.

10th House

Pluto here indicates a groom who seeks power and influence in his career and public life. He values a partner who supports his ambitions and shares his vision for success. Marriage often plays a significant role in his public image, shaping how others perceive him. While he is driven and focused, he might struggle with work-life balance or controlling tendencies. His partner should inspire the emotional connection together with his professional pursuits. This is often a marriage that would change him and change him through his career and identity.

11th House

The groom is deeply connected with his social circles and ideals. He seeks a partner who shares his vision for societal transformation and values intellectual depth. While he thrives in collaborative relationships, he might sometimes struggle with detachment or overemphasis on shared goals. His partner must balance his idealism with emotional intimacy. This placement shows that his marriage will greatly influence his aspirations and the kind of company he keeps.

12th House

Pluto in the 12th house signals a groom with great depth in his emotions and connection with the subconscious. He wants a partner who will understand his introspective nature and help him explore his inner world. Marriage tends to bring hidden fears and desires into the light, which can be an opportunity for growth and healing. Though empathetic and intuitive, he may have some difficulty in openly expressing his emotions. His ideal partner provides a safe space for vulnerability and encourages self-discovery. This placement would suggest a karmic marriage, wherein the themes of trust and transformation are to be learned.

🎀✨,,,,,,

[flowersforthemachines]

Some thoughts on the way Spite speaks

Every fic writer that heavily features Lucanis in their works will have to deal with incorporating Spite into the narrative sooner or later, and since I reached that point myself, I've decided to look through the script to have a deeper look at his speech patterns.

Most of the time, we hear Spite speak directly through Lucanis, taking control of his body by force. During such moments, Spite's speech is quite jagged, frequently separating auxiliary and main verbs into different sentences, and a lot of sentences being a single word:

(during the Murder of Crows) Lucanis (Spite) : Too much. Walking. Where. Is our prey?

(in banter with Emmrich) Lucanis (Spite) : Curiosity. Has. Feet!

(in conversation with Curio and Keepsake at the Necropolis) Lucanis (Spite) : You two! Stop. Being. So. Bright!

However, in the scenes where we see him directly talk to Lucanis, as well as in the Fade during Inner Demons, Spite is capable of using full sentences. Even if the sentences he uses are comparatively short, they are complete rather than a single sentence broken into several smaller ones:

(after the recruitment mission) Spite : He doesn't want to hurt you. How rare. Everyone else does.

(during Inner Demons) Spite : Lucanis is here. Always. Behind locked doors. I can't break through.

My personal interpretation of it is that he may have difficulties with the physical act of speaking - he can think coherently, but he's not used to controlling a body, so he struggles with articulating. I would argue that from Lucanis's POV, the Spite he hears in his head could generally be more eloquent than the Spite that actually gets to speak.

Though there are also some lines that are contradictory to that idea. Some examples:

(after the recruitment mission) Spite : I want. To talk. To Rook!

(during Bloodbath) Spite : No. I want. Her heart. Quivering. On our knife.

(during Inner Demons) Spite : His mind. Is still here. He wants. To stay here. So he keeps. Me here!

There are multiple ways to explain what could cause the difference. I personally see it as him either getting overwhelmed by strong emotions, or wanting to put more emphasis on his words by adding pauses.

But Spite only has 140 lines in the entire game, so you know. Not a lot to go on ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[itsmaferart]

The spy who could read everything… except for (real) emotions

This might contain spoilers!

One of Twilight's most fascinating aspects is his skill as a spy: he's a master of emotional disguise, capable of reading people with surgical precision in a matter of seconds. His work depends on it: detecting motivations, analyzing behaviors, and adapting to manipulate his surroundings.

As Loid Forger, his civilian facade, we see him as a kind, intelligent, educated man, a devoted father, and an exemplary husband. Everyone admires him, and in theory, he seems to have everything under control

.

But here's where the paradox comes in: the closer he gets emotionally to someone, the clumsier he becomes.

Despite his sharpness in reading interests and behavioral patterns, he struggles immensely to understand simple, spontaneous behaviors like Anya's, who just wants to have fun like any child, or Yor's, a woman full of emotions, contradictions, and desires that don't follow strict logic..

His fake wife and daughter become his true blind spot.

Twilight isn't used to dealing with genuine bonds, only strategic roles

That's why being in a home for so long—one that demands intimacy, emotionality, and spontaneity—makes his structure falter.

If we pay attention to his inner thoughts throughout the story, we notice that his true personality is far from the "perfect man" everyone sees.

Twilight is, deep down, a grumpy, nervous, insecure man who overthinks everything in search of a logical answer. This clearly generates high levels of anxiety and stress for him, and sometimes he even comes across as a bit silly.

Very, very, very silly.

Because deep down, his seemingly "mission-rational" actions are actually him concerned about his family's well-being. The truth is, he's a softie, protective, devoted, and very selfless.

This contrast between Twilight (the hyper-rational spy) and Loid Forger (the exemplary citizen) shows us a constant duality between who he is, what he pretends to be, and what he could become if he allowed his emotions to guide part of his life.

By repressing his most vulnerable parts, he finds it difficult to understand basic emotional situations that don't fit his mental framework. Not because he's cold, but because his psychic structure has been shaped by trauma, duty, and survival..

This is where a key idea comes in: Twilight interprets human behavior as a transaction.

His mind functions like an analysis machine

It seems that from his experience, people act driven by an interest—they want something, they're looking for something—and his mission as a spy is to detect what that "something" is so he can use it to his advantage. This mechanistic view of human relationships has been useful for infiltrating organizations, achieving objectives, and penetrating circles of power… but it's useless in a home where what's expected of you is to feel, not to analyze.

Indeed, his interactions with women have been more strategic than emotional. These were likely women belonging to influential social spheres, where the bond was based on seduction, mutual interest, or emotional manipulation (something similar to the classic "honey trap," where charm is used as a weapon of persuasion).

That's why he suffers an emotional short circuit with someone like Yor, a shy, sweet, authentic woman who isn't trying to manipulate him or get anything from him. She doesn't fit into his "if you do A, it's because you want B" logic, and that completely throws Twilight off balance.

His personality, with its highly rational structure, uses intellectualization and emotional repression as defense mechanisms.

The same goes for Anya, whose spontaneity and tenderness have no "strategic reason" behind them. Twilight can't "decipher" her because there's nothing to decipher: she simply is. This highlights his difficulty in connecting with people emotionally, because his life experience has programmed him to operate from the head, not the heart. .

It's curious, if we look closely at his past, we see something very different from the cold, calculating man he has become. He was an emotional, sensitive, expressive, and idealistic child, even described as a "crybaby."

However, that child was broken by war. The death of his mother, the complete absence of adult protection, and the need to survive alone pushed him to build a protective shell. Coupled with his years in the military, his life became a continuous training ground, not just physically, but emotionally: don't feel, don't doubt, don't get attached, don't trust.

This pattern is reinforced by internalized beliefs, which is why when he realizes he's "slipping," he mentally punishes himself and labels it as a mistake.

But the reality might be that Twilight tends to develop an avoidant attachment style

Where he seeks more subtle bonds and represses emotions more easily. We see this in his connection with Handler, whom he admires as a mentor figure; Franky, his undeclared best friend; and Nightfall, whom he cares for and values as a disciple and colleague.

He clearly appreciates and worries about them, but the difference is that Twilight can coexist with them and deny his attachment more easily. This is because these individuals actively reinforce his belief that attachment is a sign of danger, as they are all involved in the world of spies. In contrast, Anya and Yor have caused an emotional earthquake within him. In just six months of living with his "fake" family, he already shows signs of genuine concern and authentic affection, and his defensive system begins to fail

All of this shows us that beneath the perfect spy is a man hungry for human connection, who has lived so long repressing what he feels that he now doesn't quite know how to manage real bonds.

What do you think?

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

come back. l Joel Miller

Summary: first steps together

Warnings:  +18, smut, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that), Ellie is mean to Joel

A/N: I guess I'm not done with them yet. Sorry!

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Everything was getting out of control, or maybe that's how it was supposed to be. Maybe he had already forgotten what it was like to lose control over himself, to be carried away by the moment and emotions, when instincts take over you, when you're a little selfish. Now it was all happening at once and Joel felt like a hurricane was raging in his body.

Your lips tasted of sweet wine, he felt the curves of your body under his hands, your fingers were intertwined in his hair. And he felt amazing. 

You were sitting astride his lap. The dress you were wearing was rolled up enough so that Joel's hands had access to your thighs.

Holy shit! Everything he had closed so tightly years ago was now exploding with new force.

He invited you to dinner, to spend the evening as if the world outside the walls of Jackson hadn't gone crazy, and you were just two people close to each other. When you showed up at his door in that dress, Joel believed that this could really happen.

You looked different than usual. You were a little embarrassed, it had been years since you last wore something nice. Joel's reaction was also specific, he was totally surprised and had a hard time greeting you.

And now you were on this couch, and his tongue was deep in your throat. Big, strong hands squeezed your buttocks, and you moaned feeling the hard bulge in his jeans under you.

"Wait." he whispered, pulling away from your lips for a moment, his hair was already a total mess from your hands. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Joel..." you sighed, smiling. "Do you think I would wear a dress if I wasn't sure?"

You saw him swallow. The last parts of his brain were trying to fight something he wanted so badly. He saw your glazed eyes, swollen lips, you were breathing deeply and your chest was heaving gently.

"Don't you like me?" Your question tore him from his stream of thoughts.

He grabbed your hand and slid it between your bodies where his hard cock was trying to get out of his jeans. You smiled and bit your lower lip feeling the hard shape under your fingers.

"That's a nice compliment." you stated "Please, Joel... I've been thinking about you for so long. Don't make me wait."

"Were you thinking about me?" he asked and you nodded eagerly.

"I didn't want to tell you anything though. We were friends, partners. Besides, Ellie was with us. I didn't want to, I didn't want to say something that you wouldn't reciprocate, and I would ruin what we had."

"Fuck, darling." he sighed, with difficulty pulling your hand away from his crotch. Just a little more and he would have exploded into his jeans like a fucking teenager. "I- I thought about you too. So many times..."

"Did you touch yourself then?" he looked at you surprised. "Once, when you were on watch, I woke up and I think I heard you. I didn't want to disturb you, but then I heard my name and..."

Joel cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess I did. It's embarrassing."

"It's sexy." you corrected him and kissed him hard so he would definitely believe your words. "Take me to your bed, Joel."

You didn't have to repeat it a second time.

Although Joel had seen you naked before, he had never seen you like this. His eyes took you all in. When the dress fell to the floor, his heart stopped for a moment, then started racing.

"What do you think?" you asked uncertainly.

He was unable to answer, his voice caught in his throat. Instead, his hands rested on your face and he kissed you hard. Your fingers unbuttoned his shirt and soon moved to his chest.

Joel couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like this. Gently, with feeling. Your closeness and tenderness were peeling off layers of him, and it wasn't just about clothes. 

You stumbled backwards and your legs hit the edge of the bed. Joel slowly laid you down, and then his eyes moved over your entire body.

"Stunning." He said quietly, and you could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth.

He slowly unbuckled the belt on his jeans and slid them down, his dark eyes never leaving your face. Without a word, his hands reached for the edges of your panties and slid them too.

Your skin was already so sensitive that every touch of his was felt by you even more strongly. You had never felt anything like this before.

Joel climbed onto the bed and closed you between his broad shoulders. Your lips found each other again. The heat radiating from his body was overwhelming and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. You wanted to feel him next to you, on you, inside you, in every way possible.

Only him.

Kisses went down to your neck and cleavage, you moaned softly as he squeezed your breast.

"You're perfect..." he whispered "So fucking perfect..."

"Joel, please..." you moaned.

You needed anything to help you, to give you relief, from the growing arousal between your thighs. And he gave it to you. The same hand slid down your hip and found your hot center, you were already wet and slippery with desire.

"For me?" Joel smiled slyly, and you felt the heat creep up your neck.

"Please..."

The colossal fingers slid over your folds and soon you felt a pleasant pressure as they slid into your heated core.

"Fuck, baby..." Joel looked in awe where his fingers disappeared inside you "You wrap them so well. I can't wait to be inside you."

You couldn't answer. The feeling was overwhelming, you would never be able to give yourself something like that. Joel's fingers seemed to find all the spots in you that made your head spin. You gasped as his warm lips captured your nipple, sucking hard. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling it harder than you intended. You were so close...

"I'm holding you, baby girl." his warm breath on your sternum "Let it go."

He lightly bit your other breast, his fingers sliding in and out of you harder and harder and soon you were tightening your legs around his hand as the pleasure flooded your body.

"Fuuuuck!" you moaned, arching your back.

Joel had never seen you more beautiful. He wanted more. To see, to feel, to taste, to experience. With you. 

He slid down his boxers, and his hard, swollen cock appeared in full. Joel grabbed it at the base and rubbed your juices along its entire length.

"It's been a while." he said, noticing your gaze. "I can...fuck... I might not last long."

"I don't care, Joel." you said. "I want to feel you. This is enough for me. I want you to cum too."

The head of his cock brushed against your entrance. For a moment you felt anxiety whether he would fit, whether you would be enough for him, but then you felt him start to slide into you. Inch by inch. 

Your walls stretched and took him inside, your hands tightened around his strong shoulders. When Joel entered all the way, you both froze for a moment. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, breathing deeply.

"Fuck..." he sighed "I didn't expect this, give me a moment."

"Take as much as you need." You replied, stroking his shoulders. "You feel wonderful. You fill me completely."

After a short moment, his hips moved. He pulled out a little and pushed, as if to see if he could hold out. You pulled your legs up, and he tightened his grip on your thigh, then lifted his head and looked straight into your eyes. You didn't need words.

Joel's movements were steady, aimed straight at that spot he found inside you, that made you fall apart under his hands. He wanted to see it again, he wanted to feel you clenching around his cock now. Your panting mixed with the dirty sounds of skin slapping against skin, with how wet you were as he entered you at that steady pace.

You pulled his face to yours, kissing him hard. A hot tongue slipped between your lips and you moaned, but he silenced you well. He hit you harder, the air flew out of your lungs. Again and again. 

You woke up everything in him, between your thighs he could find fulfillment and redemption, he wanted it all, and you gave it to him with pleasure.

Another orgasm was building inside you incredibly fast.

"Joel..." you moaned.

He rested his arms on either side of you and didn't slow down. His eyes were black as night, he wanted to see you lose yourself in him again. He needed it.

"Give it to me again, baby. Don't hold back." he panted.

You didn't have a chance to answer. Another wave flooded your body and all your senses. Your eyes rolled back, you almost bit your lip. Joel didn't slow down, even though he was already close to the edge.

"Fuck!' he groaned loudly and pulled out of you.

His seed spurted onto your lower abdomen in hot streams. Although he was breathing deeply, he felt like he was constantly out of breath. He squeezed his eyelids shut trying to calm down. Only your delicate hand, which rested on his cheek, brought him back to life.

"Shit, baby..." he mumbled "I'll clean it up right away. I didn't think that... That was..."

You lifted yourself up and kissed him, and Joel returned the kiss with pleasure. You felt the smile that appeared on his lips and you smiled to yourself. 

This was it. This was the guy who was always there for you, who always gave you his arm as support, who shielded you with his body, who was there for you. He was everything.

His heart gave a strange throb when, going downstairs, he heard familiar chatter in the kitchen. Ellie was delighted with something and was telling you about something, and the pleasant smell of breakfast and coffee filled the house.

His clean shirt clung to his still damp body, and his hair was still wet, even though he had combed it back. When he woke up next to you in the morning, he couldn't help himself. You were still a bit sleepy when he slid into you, but you welcomed him with pleasure. 

It was slow, tender and gentle. He imagined mornings like this when he allowed his thoughts to be carefree for a moment. After everything, he pulled you into the shower, where his hands shamelessly explored your body. He didn't know the words to describe what he felt.

When he went down to the kitchen, Ellie's gaze immediately landed on him. A victorious smile appeared on her face.

"I see the evening was a success." she said, and seeing Joel frowned, she quickly added "Can you still do these things, old man?" 

You barely managed to stop yourself from bursting out laughing and were glad that you were standing with your back to Joel, making him coffee. Ellie was probably going to give him hell.

"That's none of your business, kid." Joel grumbled.

"I hope you're wrapping yourself up, because I'm not going to babysit your kids." she added. "You have to be a fucking responsible adult, Joel."

"Can you... Fuck!"

You quickly turned around and put the cup of coffee in front of him, giving him a gentle smile. Ellie looked at both of you and shook her head.

"I think I'll go now." she said, standing up and putting the last piece of toast in her mouth. "The atmosphere is getting stuffy."

"It's not getting stuffy at all." Joel replied, but she was already putting on her jacket.

"Wrap yourself up!"

"Ellie!"

The girl smiled at him widely, seeing that she hit all the soft spots and quickly gathered her things. Soon the front door slammed and her footsteps echoed on the porch.

"Don't be mad at her, she loves to tease you." you said seeing Joel roll his eyes "She was happy to see me here this morning."

"The house was empty without you, she wasn't the only one who missed your presence."

He walked up to you, his hands resting on your waist. You were wearing some of your old clothes and he wished it was yesterday's dress. You looked so good in it.

"I'm glad you stayed," he said.

"Me too." you replied stroking his cheek, he kissed the inside of your wrist tenderly and you smiled "Are you hungry? I made breakfast."

"Come back here." Joel interrupted you, a small wrinkle appearing between your eyebrows "Move back here. I don't want another morning without you, it was torture."

"Joel..." your lips lightly brushed his "Are you sure? Maybe we shouldn't..."

"I'm fucking sure. Listen, I've wasted a lot of time. I don't want to do this anymore. When you left..." he sighed as if he remembered something really bad "It wasn't just this house that was empty, you know."

"I felt the same way. I was hurt, but I couldn't stop thinking about you or Ellie. You're all I have."

"So come back to us. To me. Please..."

Your smile was the answer he needed. He leaned in, kissing you hard. That day, he felt like he was finally alive.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

[luna-azzurra]

Give your protagonist flaws.

Some examples of character flaws that can add humanity to your protagonist

Stubbornness

Stubbornness can cause your protagonist to cling to their viewpoints, even when they know they are wrong, often leading to conflicts with others. This trait can create dramatic tension and drive the narrative forward as the protagonist struggles with the consequences of their inflexibility.

Michael, a seasoned detective, refuses to consider new evidence that contradicts his initial theory about a case. His stubbornness leads to conflicts with his team and delays in solving the case.

Impatience

Impatience can make your protagonist demand immediate results, struggling with long-term goals or slower processes. This flaw can add layers to their journey, showing the difficulties they face in learning the value of patience and strategic planning.

Celeste, an aspiring entrepreneur, rushes the development of her new app, pushing her team to the brink. Her impatience results in a product that is not ready for launch, jeopardizing her startup's future.

Self-Doubt

Self-doubt, despite evident skills and achievements, can impair the protagonist's decision-making and actions. This internal conflict adds a relatable dimension, making their journey toward self-acceptance and confidence compelling.

Jordan, a talented musician, constantly questions his abilities despite receiving praise from peers and critics. His self-doubt hinders him from seizing opportunities that could advance his career.

Short Temper

A short temper can cause your protagonist to react aggressively to provocations or challenges, creating interpersonal issues. This flaw can drive subplots involving reconciliation, personal growth, and the learning of emotional control.

Maria, a brilliant surgeon, often lashes out at her colleagues and patients under pressure. Her short temper strains her professional relationships and threatens her career.

Selfishness

Selfishness can lead the protagonist to place their own needs and desires above others, costing them sympathy and support. This flaw can create opportunities for the character to learn empathy and the importance of selflessness.

Chris, a charismatic lawyer, often prioritizes his career over his family, missing important events and neglecting relationships. His selfishness alienates those who care about him, forcing him to reevaluate his choices.

Arrogance

Arrogance can make your protagonist overestimate their abilities and underestimate challenges, leading to dangerous or embarrassing situations. This flaw provides a platform for the character to learn humility and the value of listening to others.

Mandy, a top student, dismisses her classmates' ideas during group projects, believing she knows best. Her arrogance leads to friction and eventually to a significant mistake that humbles her.

Trust Issues

Trust issues can make it difficult for your protagonist to trust others, hindering teamwork and relationships. This trait can create tension and development opportunities as the character learns to open up and rely on others.

Liam, a former spy, finds it hard to trust anyone due to past betrayals. His trust issues complicate his relationships and collaboration with a new team.

Perfectionism

Perfectionism can lead your protagonist to set unrealistically high standards, never being content with their or others' performance. This flaw can drive stories about the struggle for balance and acceptance of imperfection.

Olivia, an artist, is never satisfied with her work, constantly striving for an unattainable level of perfection. Her perfectionism causes stress and burnout, affecting her creativity and personal life.

Fear of Change

Fear of change can make your protagonist cling to the familiar and avoid necessary or beneficial changes. This resistance can create narrative tension as they are forced to confront and adapt to evolving circumstances.

Jamie, a successful business owner, resists adopting new technologies or methods in his company. His fear of change threatens his business's relevance and growth.

Haunted by the Past

Being haunted by past mistakes or traumas can influence your protagonist's present behavior and decisions. This flaw adds a rich backstory and provides a path for emotional development and overcoming personal demons.

Zack, a war veteran, is haunted by his experiences in combat. His traumatic past affects his current relationships and decisions, leading him on a journey of healing and redemption.

[p1eceandharmon1]

supportive boyfriends┊ p1harmony (ot6)

warnings: none ┊ fluff! ┊ gn!reader ┊ word count: 817

ੈ♡˳ - requested!

contents: how would each p1h member support their s/o

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

➳ Keeho ┊ 윤기호

Keeho becomes your personal shelter from the real world whenever you feel like life is just too much, and you can’t quite cope with everything. He wouldn’t hesitate to offer you his shoulder to cry on and his arms would always be opened for you to rest for as long as you need. He is your safe space, where you feel comfortable enough to let out every single one of your worries and fears. As expected from a leader, he’s such a good listener, and an even better adviser. He just wants you to trust him and share your feelings with him so he can help you manage them in order to conquer your fears. He celebrates every single one of your achievements with pure joy, and would tell the world how proud he is of you.

➳ Theo ┊ 최태양

Theo would put your well-being before his own in a heartbeat. He may not often say it out loud, but the last thing he wants is you getting stuck in the past, not realizing you’re more than able to thrive and achieve greater things. However, he avoids interfering with your affairs as much as possible — it is very important for him that you fight for yourself and build your confidence in doing so. He knows you’re strong, brave and hard-working, and he makes sure to remind you of that every day, but still, he gets really worried. He can be extremely protective of you, that’s why he would always be quietly by your side, always ready to step in to face whatever or whoever represents a danger to you. You never feel alone or unsafe, because you know he has your back.

➳ Jiung ┊ 최지웅

Late-night deep talks with Jiung are very common in your relationship. He’s such a caring, empathetic and intelligent man who’s always encouraging you to talk to him and be very vocal about your concerns. Every single problem that you’re facing, he would take it as his own, so he puts a lot of effort into acknowledging your feelings and making you feel heard and understood. He often shares personal advice and knowledge with you, hoping you find it helpful to sort things out. He wholeheartedly believes you will achieve great things, and would repeat those words to you over and over again, until you believe them yourself. He wishes you realize how worthy of happiness you are, and he would be the first one to celebrate every single one of your achievements.

➳ Intak ┊ 황인탁

The moment Intak feels something is bothering, saddening or worrying you, he wouldn’t hesitate to step in. Unless you ask him not to, he is more than ready to involve himself and be by your side so that you never feel alone or unprotected. It’s not that he thinks you’re not capable of standing up for yourself; he just wants to make sure your intrusive thoughts don’t get the better of you. He wants to be the one reminding you of your worth at all times, the one building up your confidence and the one you can turn to when you feel tired or scared. However, he wouldn’t overwhelm you; he would wait for you to open up to him and, the moment you do, he’s all ears and would do everything in his power to help you overcome any difficulty.

➳ Soul ┊ 白翔太

To Shota, you are the most valuable and precious thing in this world, so he would do whatever it takes to keep your heart safe from everything. Seeing you struggling or hurting is unthinkable for him, so he would put a lot of effort into controlling his own feelings in order to be a reliable emotional support for you. He is the only one who can get a smile out of you when you’re going through a tough time, making you see your problems significantly smaller for a while. Like Theo, he wants you to thrive and believes you’re capable of it, but he’s very scared you get hurt, which makes him very protective of you. Because of this, he wouldn’t stop encouraging you to confide in him and share everything so you can take every step of the way together.

➳ Jongseob ┊ 김종섭

You have never struggled with communicating your worries with Jongseob. He’s such a great support for you, always encouraging you to fight, be competitive, confident and change whatever that represents a burden in your life. He’s the king of praising and would never get tired of reassuring you of your worth. He respects your privacy so he would often be rooting for you from a distance, but the moment he feels something is off, he would run to your side so you don’t feel alone. As long as you’re with him, he would never let you give up; instead, he would stick with you through every up and down, assuring you that better days will come and that you will experience them together.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[astrologylunadream]

Messages From Your Soulmate!💌🍂🎀 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hi, it's Lunadream🩷 In this reading you will find messages from your soulmate, what they want to tell you~✨️💭 So your soulmate can be the person that is meant for you, feel free to interpret any way you like! hope you find your message🧡

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your soulmate, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~🍂🩷💌

Pile 1🎸

Pile 2🍂

Pile 3✨️

Pile 4🍁

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 🩷

Pile 1🎸

Sign energy: Innocence, Spiral, Therapy, April, Even, Chiron, Virgo, Fire, Sagittarius, Aquarius,🎣🏃‍♀️✉️👈

🧡Your soulmate's energy: First of all this person is the sweetest! Their energy is just so soft and bright.😭 My pile 1's your soulmate is has a very pure soul and also a very innocent mind.💭 This soulmate is kind and loving, I'm also hearing fragile. They could have a sensitive side, they feel like a therapist because their energy is so caring and helpful.🥺🩷 The envolope emoji is definitely confirmation that this person wants to send you a message, haha. Some of you may know this person from online or a community, they could be going through something similar to you right now or have the same emotional wounds/sensitivities as you.🫂🎀 Your soulmate has a loving and nurturing energy towards you, they energetically feel any pain or difficulties you have and whenever you feel down. This person could have Virgo, Sagittarius, or Aquarius placements, Chiron in Aquarius or Virgo, Also fire energy is present here. April may be a significant time for your soulmate, maybe that is your meeting time or someone's birthday.🎂 This person is light hearted and enjoyable, it feels like you and this person are in similar situations or stage of life. Like if you're starting college or job, they are on the same page.🎓💼 This person watches you from a distance and wants to help you and be by your side, It is possible that this soulmate is going to be a coworker or someone you collaborate with.🤝 They have a bright smile that can cure depression I'm hearing, and this soulmate is a very healing connection for my pile 1's.☺️💞 It feels like you and this person have shared experiences, or part of the same community. Maybe they felt surpressed or unable to fit into certain expectations. Your soulmate is a free-thinker and you are both very like-minded. No wonder this is your soulmate because it feels like you are meant come together and heal eachother!🫶❤️‍🩹

💌Messages from them: Far away, Trial and error, Role, Hair, Follower, Water, Neptune, 5th house, Capricorn, Vertex, I wish I could control anything, Don't be so sad, It makes me nervous, I feel your pain, Your soul is mine, I like you, I understand you, You have so much worth,🤚✔️😫👇

Ohh okay so your soulmate wants you to know that they are far away right now, but they will do anything to follow you😢❤️ They want to play a role in your love life, and bring you the love and attention you deserve.👑💋 They want you to stay strong, they are taking steps to get where they need to be for you. It feels like this person is working hard on themselves right now, they want to be successful and able to provide and support you.💼💰 Your soulmate wants you to know they are going to give you everything, also they hope you won't waste your energy and time falling into obsession with every detail of your future spouse or into romantic connections that may not be realistic or true. They want you to know THEY are the real deal, a serious solid lover and not a one sided or half hearted relationship.👤🚫 Wow, your soulmate is possessive over you and wants to tell you that you don't deserve to be neglected or give your energy away with nothing in return, this energy is kinda ticked off tbh like that really bothers your soulmate. So they really hope you won't give in to toxic connections that aren't giving you any love or care.💔 Your soulmate wants to let you know that your pain is their pain and they hate seeing you upset, they want to be available to you right now.😭 Also another message is that your soulmate wants to let you know that your hair/head is very attractive.🩷✨️ They want you to know that they will inevitably find their way to you despite all the obstacles and trials. They're lightly complaining about how they wish they could take care of you and make things easier on you🥺💞 They feel a strong sense of responsibility to make sure you are okay and taken care of, they wish they could fill the care-taker role for you, like help you with your schedule and cook for you even🍵🍳 Your soulmate wants you to be confident in their existence, like "Yes pile 1 your perfect person is out there working hard to come to you", they don't want you to lose hope or overthink things but instead happily accept their promise and energy and let everything fall into place!💌 They are genuinely loving and attentive to you pile 1!

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🤗🎀

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the guitar emoji~🎸 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🍁🩷

Pile 2🍂

Sign energy: Fight, Role, Mermaid, Jawbone, Children, 4th house, Cancer, Taurus, Vertex, 9th house,🔒🥇👗⛺️

🧡Your soulmate's energy: Aw this is cute! Your soulmate is really caring and comforting, especially for your inner-child🧸 They are very family-oriented and fiercely protective, like they would fight anyone who hurts their loved ones.😢🥊 Their jaw and neck are very attractive and noticable, also their voice is soothing and sweet. My pile 2's your soulmate is such a softie but strong, they're like a gentle giant on the inside!🥰💞 Also they have such a siren energy and vibe to them, they could have red hair like Ariel❤️ For those who this soulmate is a feminine, they wear beautiful dresses, also whether a feminine or a masculine they may often wear soft huggable clothes. This person is just so sweet I love their energy😭 They would make a great spouse or parent, they are very caring towards you like you're their baby. Their placements could be Cancer, Taurus, or Sagittarius, it's very likely for them to have 4th house placements. Your soulmate plays a crucial role in your home life, for some this could be someone who has lived overseas or is a foreigner settling down in a new country.🏠💕🛫 Family is extremely important to your soulmate, you will have a strong bond with this person. Also! Your soulmate literally gives the best hugs, the most comforting and loving cuddles😩🫂 You may meet them in their home country or abroad, but for some in your neighborhood. They will feel familiar to you, like you have known them forever. They have a good amount of feminine energy which makes them so caring and loving🩷 It's very likely that a lot of you in this pile will start a family with this person, even have children for some. But overall this person's energy just feels like home to you, I'm also hearing "number one dad/mom" that may resonate for some. Your soulmate may be someone you really want to tie the knot with, they're also someone really committed and devoted to their spouse or family💍👑 Your soulmate is definitely giving "trophy husband/wife" lol, I love how they're both extremely kind and gentle but they also have a fiery rougher side that comes out when them or their loved ones are theatened in any way.🔪🔥 Your soulmate may like the color blue, and interested in other countries and cultures. They are extremely caring and sweet to you.😫🩷

💌Messages from them: Career, First, Aura, Believe, Fishing, 8th house, Earth, South node, Fire, Pluto, Whatever, This is interesting, You make me blush, I want to hurt you so good, There's no chance, I want to surprise you, Your energy is so youthful, Kiss me and don't stop,🕺🪽🛸🎢

Alright so I was surprised by the suggestive energy that sort of popped out of nowhere lmao I guess that's what your soulmate means by wanting to surprise you😳❤️‍🔥 I wasn't expecting such passionate energy from them, they have a lot of romantic feelings and attraction towards you. They want you to feel their intensity and love for you, like they can't hide it omg. Your soulmate seems like the type to openly express their romantic/sensual thoughts and feelings for you🙈💋 I think they would be whispering sweet nothings to you right now, that's a lot of their messages honestly. I'm trying to keep this pile light, but your soulmate is real naughty😭 They also want to tell you that they're obsessed with you, haha also they're kind of a troublemaker like they are such a tease in a cute way.😜🌟 I think it's interesting that "career first" came out, I think they're trying to say either you or them need to focus on their stability and professions right now before coming together 🔜💼 I'm hearing "this is what I need to do", they want to make a solid foundation for you, this could also be because they want to move in with you and they feel like they need to have the means for that. Also this sounds hilarious but your soulmate wishes they could just abduct you like an alien and bring you into their life instantly😂😭 Lmao this person will definitely make you laugh, they're so funny. They really do want you with them right now, but they know they still have responsibilities to take care of at this time before they can finally have you💐 Your soulmate wants to properly shift into a stable and secure earthly energy before you are divinely united, they want to tell you that their life is like a rollercoaster and is too chaotic right now🎢🔥😬 They feel like they're not capable enough to have you. They want you to feel their loving energy and believe in them, believe that fate will bring them to you. Maybe they also feel like their energy may be too intense for you right now, and they need to raise their vibrations to meet your standard😊🩷 Your soulmate wants you to know that they are preparing themselves for you, becoming their best self to present to you. They might be coming sooner than you think, because they feel a little impatient to be with you.😅 But they're resisting impulsiveness in order to make sure they are right for you.💍

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🤗🎀

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the fallen leaves emoji~🍂 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🍁🩷

Pile 3✨️

Sign energy: Lovesick, More, Sarcasm, Cinderella, Options, Air, Fire, 7th house, Uranus, 1st house,✔️🫂🟨👩‍🔬

🧡Your soulmate's energy: Ah so interesting, your soulmate is uniquely beautiful☀️ The second you meet them you will notice how they aren't quite like anyone else, something about them definitely stands out.🤭🩷 For some reason I'm getting that a lot of people may be envious or out to get this person, their individuality makes others on the fence. Your soulmate is experimental and they may not have a set ideal type. Your soulmate is very innovative especially in their relationships, oh you know they might be a fire or air moon🌙 Libra or Aquarius placements, Aries, 1st house aspects, their energy has a lot of duality. They can be feminine or masculine, wild or tame, dreamy or realistic depending on the time or mood. Your soulmate has a lot of contacts and close relationships, I'm also seeing lots of options romantically take that however it fits. Blue and yellow are significant colors for them, maybe those could be favorite colors💛🌊 I feel like this soulmate doesn't like fitting into gender roles/labels, they desire something new and different💡💭 This pile could either go two ways, for the first half of you, this person is a hopeless romantic and Impulsive with finding love/suitors❤️‍🔥🔍 For others are the complete opposite and maybe stopped caring about love and relationships because they don't want to feel constrained and vulnerable.💍🚫 Now I am seeing the duality of the terms "hopeless romantic" and "hopeless romantic" if you know what I mean☹️💔 This person may have tried several dating apps or hoped to find the one but none of the options clicked with them. Your soulmate may be very disappointed or even disgusted by love, I'm hearing "I want something more" that could be their thoughts on love🥀 For some of you this person may look like a player or like they have a lot of suitors, but they just roll their eyes because they can't feel any spark with those people. They feel like they still haven't found the one, their soulmate, which is pile 3🥰 I'm hearing this person is not settling for something dull, they want to find a real passionate and unique romance that lights up their world🩷✨️

💌Messages from them: Mouth, Legs, Taste, Vent, Friendly, Eros, Moon, Vertex, Aquarius, Pluto, I wish I could control it, Think of me, I'm stuck with you, It's not me, You have a future ahead of you, I love the way you dress Your fantasies are unreasonable, I wanna take you down,🧎‍♂️🙏🏍🧩

Okay this is interesting, I actually forgot to mention a lot of you may start out as friends with your soulmate, but there is a really strong energy of friends with benefits.😳 Honestly for some of my pile 3's your person is a freak and they can't hide it, they might even try to stay in the friendzone for their sake or yours.😭💋 So anyway, your soulmate has many messages for you, in a way that they kinda want to vent to you right now lmao. Your soulmate would tell you they're on their knees praying for you to walk into their life.🙏🩷 And this is your soulmate but not necessarily your next partner, so they're honestly afraid because they feel like they have no control over your fate and they don't know for certain if you will choose them or fall for someone else💔 Their heart is pouring out from their words my pile 3's they wish you were with them right now. I almost said future spouse lol but yeah your soulmate is being very open with you about how possessive and insecure they are feeling because they aren't yours.😰💌 I think this person might not know you two are meant to be, they want to hold on to you tight pile 3. This person is afraid of losing you (or never having you) tbh too they get really turned on by you but they can't control it they just feel so attracted to you.❤️‍🔥😫 This may get in the way of your friendship at the beginning of this connection, so they try to hide it. Your soulmate hopes you will think of them as more than a friend, also they wanna tell you that you always dress really nice🫦👀 I think mainly it feels like your soulmate wants to rid of the buddy-buddy energy between you both, they don't like acting friendly to you and want to be closer to you in a more intimate romantic way🫢♨️ So that's what they want you to know, maybe they're afraid of you seeing them as a friend when you meet them or of you've already seen them that way. They also feel like you have strange requirements in love but they want you to know they can fulfill those unlike anyone else.🫣💌 They want to tell you they're your perfect match, I'm thinking "match your speed" however that resonates. Your soulmate also wants you to know how much they care about you and that you bring them the most comfort.🫂🩷 I'm hearing "You are my missing piece"😢💖

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🤗🎀

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the sparkle emoji~✨️ Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🍂🩷

Pile 4🍁

Sign energy: Childhood, Affect, Gold, Unafraid, Trauma, Uranus, 2nd house, Earth, Mercury, Sagittarius,📿⛸️🎤🟪

⚠️Note: Brief mentions of verbal mistreatment, proceed with caution!

🧡Your soulmate's energy: Okay this pile may be a little sensitive topic, but your soulmate may have some childhood trauma.☹️ Especially verbal abuse or being treated differently, your soulmate may have felt like an outcast.💔 I think this affected their self worth and caused them to feel like they lack value in some way, so this person tries to accommodate by becoming more beautiful, richer, smarter, ect. I am definitely seeing your soulmate rising above those who looked down on them, and their current energy is now stable and successful.✨️ They don't let anyone bring them down, and now they have very strong boundaries and high standards. Your soulmate is unique and may be from another culture/religion than you, for some they may have converted to a different religion from what they were raised in. Ice skating may be significant, also they may be a public speaker, singer, or lecturer and they are quite financially stable in their career.💼💰💸 Your soulmate has such a grounded energy, like no one can affect them because they are so strong and successful.👏 Your soulmate wears jewelry or luxury items like watches, handbags, earrings, fancy stuff. Purple is a significant color here, your soulmate could definitely be rich. My pile 4's soulmate has an inspiring life story, like their life could be made into a movie lol.🎥🎞 They have such a fancy vibe about them, also a nice voice. This person could be an online beauty influencer for some, but I'm also seeing that as this person definitely loves online shopping.👜🏷 Signs for them could be Aquarius, Taurus, Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, also placements like uranus in 2nd house, mercury in earth signs or sagittarius, uranus in sagittarius, chiron conjunct mercury or uranus. Omg pile 4 your soulmate is so pretty?? Their beauty has a radiating affect on others, so graceful and charming.👑 They could definitely wear golden jewelry and accessories, I'm imagining wrist wear for some of my pile 4's. Also maybe a gold-ish skin tone? Lol their skin just glows, your soulmate is a stunning and expensive person!!

💌Messages from them: Makeup, Message, Treat, Leo, Invitation, Pisces, North node, Vertex, Aquarius, 10th house, It's hard to make this work, Don't compare yourself, I know, Seriously? I think we're alike, Let me know, They're just jealous, What did I do?🧣🐈😔🛸

Haha ok this is interesting, so your soulmate wants to tell you that even if things get tough, please don't be hard on yourself pile 4🥺💖 They don't want you to blame yourself for difficult times, or compare yourself to others that seem more successful or achieved than you. Also specifically they don't want you to compare yourself to beauty influencers or celebrities, your soulmate is saying that no one wakes up effortlessly attractive or accomplished and not everything is as it seems.🔍🚫 That message is really coming out strongly from your soulmate, they hate seeing you upset or feeling like you aren't good enough. Your soulmate hopes you will treat yourself with pride, respect and self love🩷✨️ Also for some of my pile 4's your relationship with this soulmate may recieve public recognition and even jealousy, so your soulmate wants to let you know that won't keep you two apart.🌹 I'm hearing people making up rumors and delusions about you two, but your soulmate doesn't want you to let them affect you. Also only for some but you may get an opportunity to work with your soulmate, could be an online campaign or some sort of collaboration that will bring attention to you both.👀📸 I am seeing some of my pile 4's might compare themselves to this soulmate, and they are here to assure you that you two are no different. It may seem like this person is more efficient or ahead of you in some way, but they want you to know that they are not as great as they appear and they make mistakes just like anyone else.☹️💓 Your soulmate really wants you to know that you are just as good as anyone else, they want you to remember your worth. You are someone admirable to them, they themselves are a greatly respected and loved person but they only see you.🔗🩷 So pile 4 your soulmate wants you to keep your chin up and love the person you have become! They are so proud of you and they are your biggest supporter, they believe in you.🥰

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🤗🎀

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the orange leaf emoji~🍁 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🍂🩷

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Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3