#WHAT TO DO YOU THINK SHE MIGHT'VE BEEN CONSIDERING????

[numiolaes]

i wonder how many people would stop bitching about the writing for this show if they could've binged it all and had at least one scene per episode where someone stated everything explicitly like that one scene w/ satan in futurama

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 5. Back to Square One

Masterlist

Summary: Simon's rapidly growing obsession with you comes to a halt.

Warnings: obsessive behavior, cursing, slight nsfw

The drive back to Simon's house was quiet and dark. Price had turned on the radio, letting classic rock play quietly in the background. He tapped the steering wheel every so often, humming to whatever lyrics he could remember.

Simon sat in the passenger seat, staring at the cars ahead, occasionally glancing at the signs that whizzed by the truck. Each sign that brought him closer to home made him ache. He thought about his bed. He thought about Riley. And, of course, he thought about you. He knew you most likely wouldn't be there - it was after midnight. But he liked to imagine that you'd be waiting there, sitting on his couch with your book and mug of tea, Riley settled next to you, ready to greet him with your smile - the smile that he'd been thinking about in every stolen moment during the mission.

"Alright there, Simon?" Price cut through the silence, dragging Simon back to earth.

He cleared his throat. "Yes sir. Jus' ready to be back."

Price scoffed. He knew Simon didn't consider his house a home. If anything, it was a safe house between missions. "I'm sure Riley will be happy to see you."

"We'll see about that." Simon said with a chuckle. "This dog-sitter might've stolen her from me."

"Nah, she's yours. Been with 'er through it all." Price said as he turned into Simon's neighborhood. "I'm sure she enjoyed the company, though."

Simon grunted. "Seems like it." He said, remembering the picture you had sent him; the way Riley had cozied up to you, the way she seemed so docile and calm in your presence. He imagined you running your fingers through her fur, the perfect ratio of scratching to gentle pets. He wondered what it would feel like on his scalp...

A shiver ran down his spine. How does one become jealous of their own damn dog? It was ridiculous.

"Speaking of the dog-sitter..." Price said, "Johnny mentioned she's a real-"

"Whatever Johnny told you, you can disregard." Simon grumbled. "I told him not to worry 'bout it."

Price chuckled, which made Simon burn with frustration. "Touchy subject, eh?"

"There's nothing to discuss." He replied bitterly. Quite frankly, he didn't like the picture Soap had managed to paint of him. His entire team thought he was whipped by someone he had barely known. Despite it being entirely true, it was the complete opposite of the image he had built of himself - and he had a reputation to keep.

"Right." Price nodded. Simon could tell he didn't believe him, but as long as he didn't try to pester him anymore about it, Simon would take it as a win.

Price pulled into the driveway, and Simon immediately unbuckled. He reached into the back and grabbed his duffel bag, then yanked his door open and got out.

"Y' know this isn't over." Price said, right before Simon could close the door. "We most likely 'ave a week 'fore we get sent out again. Just don't get too comfortable 'ere."

"Never do." Simon replied, shouldering his bag. "I'll wait for your call."

Price nodded, sending Simon off with a wave. He watched as he closed the passenger door and walked up the path to his house, before pulling out of the driveway and heading towards his own home.

Simon sighed as he fished his keys from his pocket. He heard Riley barking on the other side of the door, and a small smile formed on his face. When he pushed it open, she immediately jumped on him, whining and sniffing him all over. He knew she could smell the others on him, and probably wondered why he didn't bring her this time.

"Hey, girl..." he said, yanking his balaclava off and kneeling down to ruffle her fur. "Sorry I's gone so long. Miss me?"

She stood her front paws on his knees and licked his face, still whining and swinging her tail rapidly.

"Yeah, missed you too." He chuckled. "D'ya have fun? Did she treat you right?"

Riley dropped down to the floor as Simon stood. She turned towards his duffel bag and began sniffing, eyes focused on the fabric as she took in all the new and familiar scents.

Simon sighed. "'Bout time for a proper cuppa." He said, making his way into the kitchen. Despite it nearing one in the morning, it would be a while before he was decompressed enough to fall asleep.

He reached into the cupboard for a mug, ignoring the way his back popped. When he placed the mug down and reached for a teabag, he saw a note on the counter. With a furrowed brow, he picked it up and read it.

Hello Simon!

Hope your deployment was fun good! Riley and I had a blast! She learned how to play dead - if you want to try it, just make sure to give her a biscuit for it (she's only had one today, and she was a bit bitter that I left before giving her a second one). Also, she's had her medicine for the day. I gave her last dose around 9 pm.

Can't wait to spend more time with her, but I'm sure she's happy to see her dad! Let me know when you need me next!

Have a nice evening!

P.S. I had to use your washing machine, I hope that was alright. I got a bit muddy trying to teach her the new trick.

He stared at the note for a good amount of time. His eyes wandered over your meticulously neat handwriting. He noticed how often you liked to use exclamation points - the same way you did in your texts and emails. It made him annoyed - but not with you. He was annoyed that he found it... adorable. He shouldn't. You were too bright and happy; your personality should burn him, not warm him up.

He tried to brush it off, blaming his obervant behaviour on the recent mission. Old habits die hard, he lied to himself.

"Riley, c'mere."

Upon hearing her name, Riley meandered into the kitchen and stopped in front of Simon. She sat on her hind legs and looked at him expectantly.

He looked back at her - he felt a bit silly, commanding a retired veteran dog to do simple party tricks. But, it sounded like you put a lot of effort into teaching her this - not to mention, you had somehow dirtied your clothes over it - so he decided to entertain the idea.

"Play dead." He said firmly.

Riley immediately flopped down onto her back, sticking her paws into the air. She even let her tongue hang out of her mouth to really sell the image.

He felt an immediate rush of pride. "Atta girl..." he praised, kneeling down and patting her affectionately. Despite all the annoyance he felt a moment ago, Simon couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto his face.

She twisted and sat up, snuffling and groaning as he rubbed her fur. She barked once, sharp and demanding.

"Yeah, yeah- suppose you deserve a biscuit, huh?" He stood up and grabbed the box of peanut butter and bacon treats, fishing one out and tossing it to Riley. She caught it perfectly, crunching it with an open mouth and licking her lips afterwards.

He watched her with a smile, his arms folded over his chest. Sure, tricks were dumb, something only glorified house pets did for small rewards. But he was impressed that Riley had so effortlessly followed a new command, especially after being out of work for so long. And he was warmed by the fact that, not only did you watch her, but you engaged with her. He was confident he'd found the perfect pet-sitter.

After starting a load of laundry, Simon had taken a cold shower. He scrubbed his eyeblack off with nothing but his hands and the generic body wash from the corner store. He slathered some of his 3-in-one hair gel into his scalp, giving it no more than seven scrubs before rinsing it out. He stood there for a while, letting the water beat against his sore back as the details of the previous mission swarmed throughout his head. He picked apart what he could have done better, what had nearly gotten him killed, and what had probably saved his life.

His eyes flickered to the corner of the tub; there was a cluster of travel-sized bottles, labeled "face wash", "body butter", and so forth. He let himself imagine - who was he kidding, he had no control over his thoughts when it came to you - your body, standing under the stream of the shower. You probably liked hot showers, didn't you? You most likely stayed in there for an hour, going through your meticulous routine, lathering yourself in scented soaps and creams... you'd be appalled if you had seen the three-minute showers he takes, wouldn't you? Maybe you would pull him into your routine, once Simon did eventually get the balls to ask you out, despite how much the thought of being romantic with someone made him scoff. He'd let you wash his face, or shave his balls, or do whatever it is you would do to him.

He suddenly snapped out of his trance, realizing he was holding one of the bottles labeled "conditioner". His thumb was on the edge of the cap, ready to flip it open and take a whiff of the scent - but he quickly stopped himself. He put the bottle back with the rest, then splashed cold water over his face. Quit being a fuckin' creep... he thought.

After turning the shower off and drying himself with a towel, he went into his room and grabbed a pair of sweatpants. He made his way back into the basement, patting Riley on the back as he passed her by the door. He pulled his laundry out and placed it on top of the washing machine, and opened the dryer. Just as he was getting ready to toss his clothes in, he noticed something hiding in the back of the barrel of the machine.

He reached in and pulled it out - it was your flannel. The same green-and-grey one you'd been wearing during your interview.

He paused for a moment, posture rigid as he held the fabric in the air. He wasn't quite sure what to do with it. It was just a flannel... but it was your flannel. He fought with his muscles, resisting the urge to bring it closer and inhale the scent - he tried to reason with himself. Maybe she used my soap, and it would just smell like my detergent. Nothin' special.

He dropped it on top of the dryer, still wrinkly and warm - but, strangely, that felt too rude. It's a fucking piece of clothing, for Christ's sake... he thought. Not her dead nan. He then attempted to hang it on the rack, but that felt too formal. He groaned, rubbing his eyes with irritation. How something so insignificant was causing him so much turmoil was beyond him.

He ended up bringing it back upstairs. Riley sniffed the fabric as he passed her - she thumped her tail eagerly on the floor as she smelled your scent. Once again, Simon was jealous of the dog being able to act so carefree with you - he knew for sure that if he tried sniffing your flannel, he would be a certified creep. Or, worse yet, he might not care, and wouldn't be able to stop himself.

He tossed it over the back of the couch, planning on forgetting you had ever even worn it. He dropped himself onto the cuhions with a groan. Riley immediately took her place in her bed, just a few feet away from him. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned on the telly, flicking through the channels until he found some action/drama that caught his interest. He watched it boredly, drowning himself and his thoughts in the drone of the movie.

Suddenly, Riley barked. Simon looked at her - his gaze was met with hers, mouth opening and tail thwapping against the wall.

"Hmm?"

She let out an impatient, garbled sound. She lowered her head to the edge of her bed, still looking at Simon.

He shrugged internally and looked back at the screen. He settled further into the cushions and let his eyes fall shut. He thought about maybe drifting off then and there - the din of the telly might help keep the nightmares at bay...

Riley barked again, making Simon jolt. He snapped his head towards her - she was standing at the foot of the couch, ears back and panting.

"Wha' d'you want?" He asked in an annoyed tone.

She barked again, shifting her weight from one paw to the other.

"Ya need to go out?" He asked. He stood from his seat, only for Riley to scamper back to her bed and plop down on it. She looked at him expectantly.

Simon huffed. "'M not following." He dropped down to the sofa again. Riley groaned, making a scene of dragging herself out of the bed again and walking over to Simon.

"Now, don't you go 'n start aga-"

She cut him off with a shrill yap.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew it couldn't be time for her medication - you had just given her some at nine. But he was entirely stumped on what she was trying to communicate to him. Was she hungry? She wasn't usually, after she'd had dinner... did she want to play? But... she was acting like she wanted to go to bed.

"What are you on 'bout?" He asked, leaning down to ruffle her fur. She dodged his hand and backed up a bit, yowling out a frustrated sound.

He scoffed. "Fuckin' hell..." he mumbled, pulling his phone from his pocket. Only one way to fix this, he thought, as he tapped through his contacts, until he landed on yours.

He stared at the picture for a moment, familiarizing himself with the details he had spent so long ogling at: your smile, your damp hair, the curve of your cheekbones, the way you marked your spot in your book with your fingers-

Riley barked again, making Simon scowl.

"A'right- just hush." He ordered, sending her a stern glance as she shuffled back to her bed. He started the call - he felt unusually nervous, his gut twisting as he listened to each ring on the line. Maybe he really was whipped, he thought.

Eventually, the call picked up. His shoulders tensed as he heard shuffling on the other end of the line.

"... m... hello?"

Fuck. You sounded tired- no, you sounded like you were still asleep. He quickly pulled the phone away and checked the time; it was nearly two in the morning. Of course you'd been asleep.

"Uh... hey." He said, mentally cursing himself. "Shit, I, uh... didn't even consider you might be asleep."

"No..." You mumbled - were you even awake at all? "No, iz fine... yeah..."

Simon waited a moment, expecting you to say something else - but you didn't. Eventually, he heard the soft sounds of your breathing again.

"Hello?" He asked cautiously.

"Up... 'm up... what's up?"

Simon shifted in his seat, slightly ashamed that he hadn't put two and two together and ended up calling you so late. "Right- jus' a quick-"

Riley barked again, staring at Simon impatiently.

Simon covered the speaker to his phone and sent her a harsh glare. "Oi! 'M workin' on it, hush!"

Your sleepy giggle wafted through the phone and into Simon's ear. "Sweet baby..."

Simon's breath caught in his throat, and he coughed nervously. She means the dog, the fucking dog, you idiot.

"Uh, sorry- jus' got a question for ya."

"Hmm?"

"Well- she's acting a bit funny," he stared at Riley and held a cautioning hand up as she shifted her weight and whined, "she's runnin' around and yellin' at me. Keeps gettin' in 'er bed, then comin' back like- like she wants somethin'. I have no bloody idea. Just wonderin' if she was doin' this with you."

"Oh, yeah..." Simon could hear your smile through the phone, and he desperately tried to push the image of your tired face from his mind. "She wants her blanket."

Simon paused. "She- she's got her blanket."

"No- she wants you to tuck her in."

"She wha' now?"

You laughed again. "You need to tuck her in her bed. She's right under the air vent and she gets cold."

He looked back at Riley. She was now sitting down, mouth closed, as if agreeing with what you said. He scoffed, rising from the couch and shuffling towards her. She slowly thumped her tail as he approached.

"Never 'eard of a dog gettin' tucked in..." he grumbled. He grabbed the felt blanket behind her, swaddling it around her body. She groaned, slowly blinking at him in an appreciative manner.

"Ya spoiled, you hear me?" He said quietly, tucking the blanket in between her and the cushion of the bed. She sighed happily, completely unaware that he was insulting her. She licked his cheek when he bent down close enough, and he grumbled and wiped the spittle away.

You giggled in his ear - Christ, you've got to stop doing that, do you have any idea what it does to him? - as he sat back down on the sofa. "All better?" You asked.

"Seems t' be-" he replied, watching Riley as she settled into her cocoon, "ya turnin' her into a princess."

"Well, she is one." You quickly replied - Simon could hear you stretching your limbs, followed by a long exhale.

He wanted to talk to you all night. Hearing you prattle on was like a balm to his jagged mind. But he knew he couldn't. You were half asleep, after all.

"Well, tha's all I needed- oh, and you, uh..." he grabbed your flannel off the back of the sofa. "Y' left your flannel here."

"I did?"

"Yeah. The green one."

"Oh, bullocks, I knew I-"

"Who are you talking to at this hour?"

Simon felt his heart stop when he heard the other voice. It had hit him like a train, flooding his veins with adrenaline. His brain went into overdrive, thinking of the worst possible scenario. Break in? Crazy stalker? Murderous ex? "Y' aright, love?"

"Simon." You said, and he couldn't tell if you were talking to him or someone else. Were you trying to warn him? To ask for help?

"Talk to me."

"Who the bloody hell is Simon?"

"My client, ya git."

"Oh- sorry love-" Simon heard more shuffling, then a kiss, followed by a grunt from you. He let himself linger in the confusion of what was going on - but, in the back of his mind, he understood it completely.

"Got me right in my bloody eye-"

"Oh, hush."

"Left your flannel at his house."

"My green one?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you were using the grey one!"

"Well, I was, Tyler, and then I wanted the green one!"

"That's it - I'm stealin' all ya knickers tomorrow."

You laughed again - this time. The sound nearly shattered Simon. He felt like it was wrong to hear you laugh so sweetly.

"Well, uh-" he was speaking before he even realized it. "You can pick it up- or I'll drop it off- or, uh, I can drop it- I mean, I'll-"

"You can shove it in the closet until next time, if that's alright?" You said, yawning shortly after.

Simon paused. He needed to get it together. "Yea, that'll work. I'll let you go then - sorry to call so late."

"It's fine, really. But let me know when you'll need me again, ok?"

"'Course I will. I'll send you an email, as usual."

You scoffed. "I know you said we should only text for emergencies, but you can text me if it's something small, Simon."

"Right, will do. I'll text you."

"Is everything ok?"

"It's fine. You should sleep. I'll talk later."

"Ok. Goodnight, Simon."

"G'bye."

He ended the call, staring at the screen for a moment, until your contact photo faded away. He leaned his head back and sighed. His thoughts suddenly came rushing back - except this time, they were about you. How he should have expected you to have a partner. How could you not? You were so bright and bubbly, of course you'd be snatched up. He felt stupid for thinking you'd be single. Maybe this whole idea of you falling for him was stupid. Maybe this was better - he was saved from rejection, even if this situation stung painfully within his chest.

Whatever. Hopefully, your personality would finally drive him over the edge of annoyance and anger, and you'd be more of a nuisance to him. That'd be the easiest way you could let him down.

He looked at the flannel in his lap. It's not even hers. He thought. He crumpled the fabric into his hand and flung it behind him.

Riley's head snapped up at the movement, and she floundered out of her bed, chasing after the flannel.

"Riley, no- don't-" he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he heard her scuffling across the floor. He kept his eyes closed as he heard her come trotting back, before she stopped at the edge of the couch.

She whined and tilted her head. Simon opened his eyes and looked at her.

"That's not even hers, ya ninny." He said. He looked away and turned up the telly, hoping that everything in his head would just disappear into the back of his mind.

Riley stepped around Simon's feet as she carried the flannel in her mouth. She then hopped onto the couch and settled next to Simon, depositing the (now damp) clothing onto his lap. He grunted as she laid her head down on his leg, whining and flattening her ears. She looked up at him with curious eyes, slowly thumping her tail on the cushion.

He exhaled through his nose. He stared at the flannel, then back at Riley. "Ya really like her, eh?"

She licked her lips and blinked, sighing through her nose.

He chuckled, patting her side and looking at the ceiling. "I know. I do too." He closed his eyes.

"We'll be alright, girl."

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[cherrygirlfriend]

touchy subject III pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst and comfort. fluff. mentions of miscarriage/stillbirth and DUI. wc: 2.7k part 3 and the last part of touchy subject! click here for part 1, click here for part 2 i really liked writing for them and honestly i'm considering occasionally writing blurbs for them and what their relationship would shape into, lmk if you'd be interested!! originally posted 11/28/2024

part I & part II

seeing you in front of that store felt like it might've killed rafe. the first face he fell in love with, the woman who'd left him with nothing but scars and an engagement ring. somehow, he still managed to stay alive.

but hearing you say his name in the soft voice he hadn't heard in over four years, the same one that you used to tell him you loved him every single night before your body went slack in his arms, that might have been the final blow.

"what are you doing here?" you managed to mutter, your hand instinctively going to your locket, squeezing it in your hand, and the gesture didn't go unnoticed by rafe.

"what's this?" rafe asked as the two of you laid in bed, his finger tracing the patterns on the heart-shaped locket resting on your chest, the one you'd worn around your neck for as long as he'd known you.

"this?" you asked, opening the locket, displaying two pictures; one of them was of you when you were a little girl, standing between your parents with a wide, toothy grin on your face, and the other was a picture of you and rafe, taken at midsummers. "i got this from my mom. it's a family heirloom of sorts. when she's born," you looked down at your stomach, "we've gotta get a picture taken of us three so i can put it here."

he let out a small chuckle, "i'm honored that you want me in your heart."

"i think you're always going to be in my heart," you rolled your eyes, "whether i want it or not."

"i'm here to see you. i thought that'd be obvious." rafe said without an ounce of emotion in his voice, the sound causing a shiver to run down your spine. grieving your daughter on what would've been her fifth birthday wasn't a moment you exactly wanted your ex to witness, but this was still rafe. the man you loved for so long, the only man you ever loved, the one you were going to marry, and this was still the house that was supposed to be your home.

so you stepped aside, pulling your cardigan closed as a way to close yourself off from the man as you walked further into the house, not daring yourself to look back at him, fearing the urge that still remained in your chest to just pull him close to you and be in his arms.

you heard the door close, pressing your eyes shut as you stood in front of the fireplace, your arms crossed in front of your chest as if defending yourself, the man's footsteps echoing in the room, "it's cold in here."

"the radiator's broken."

"can you just, at least look at me, or something?"

"do i have to?" you chuckled humorlessly, and when you felt his hand on your shoulder, it felt like the room got ten degrees colder, the man slowly turning you around to face him, and when you refused to look up at him, focusing on the baby blue sweater he was wearing, he brought his hand to your chin, gently lifting it up, just like he did every time he was about to kiss you.

"we need to talk."

if someone was to ask you what would be the most uncomfortable situation you had ever been in, this would be among the top 3, right after you got the 'birds and the bees' talk and the time you said your goodbyes to the same man now sitting beside you, the space between you two big enough to fit another person.

"why did you come back?" rafe asks, without even sparing you a glance. you decide to do the same, your gaze staying on the fire crackling in front of you.

"i don't know. a part of me thinks it's because i missed home."

"and the other part?"

missed us. missed her. "missed my mom, i guess."

your mother had driven you home from the hospital, insisting that she'd stay with you for the next few days; you still hadn't seen rafe. you couldn't face him, couldn't face the guilt you carried around for being the reason your daughter would be coming home in an urn.

she'd gone to the store for groceries, leaving you to sit on the couch you and rafe had picked out, staring at the engagement picture that hung above the fireplace.

you didn't know how it started, how every single vase ended up as nothing but shards of glass on the floor, how the coffee table had ended up as planks of wood, how your fists were bruised from beating them against the walls, your knees bloody from when you'd collapsed on the ground amongst all the glass.

"do you know what day it is?" rafe asked with a weak voice, and you could hear him try to swallow down the emotion crawling up his throat.

his question made you want to let out a small, humorless laugh. you don't know how you could ever forget. "of course." the day i killed her.

rafe stood up, running his hand over his chin before trailing over the short strands of hair on his head, "why did you do it?" he looked to you. "why did you leave?"

"i had no reason to stay." you say emotionlessly, your fingers intertwined as you kept your eyes on them as if you were praying.

"you had me. you would've had me if you just let me be there."

"rafe, i killed our daughter."

"what-"

"i'm the reason our daughter isn't here. i'm the reason she doesn't exist. i'm the reason that today isn't only her fifth birthday, but also the fifth anniversary of her death."

rafe kneeled down in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks, not caring if it made you uncomfortable, or that this was the first time he'd properly touched you in over four years, the only thing that mattered to him was that you listened.

"you did not kill our daughter."

"i did."

"no." he scoffed, "you aren't the reason she's dead. the reason is the drunken asshole who drove at you. you loved her with your entire being, with everything you had, even before she was born. you would've been the most amazing mother in the world. don't you dare blame yourself for something you had zero control over."

"i shouldn't have driven in that weather. i knew it was gonna be raining, that the roads would be slippery-"

"no." rafe said sternly, "look at me."

your eyes moved to look into rafe's steel-blue ones, shimmering with unshed tears, his jaw clenched, and only then did you realize that he was cupping your face in his hands, his touch somehow managing to make you feel warm even in the cold apartment.

"i won't have you blame yourself for something you had no fuckin' control over. evelyn was so wanted, by both of us. she would've been so loved. we would've done anything to protect her, and to keep her safe. if any fucker even thought about hurting her, i would've made sure they'd regret ever being born. but you are not to blame for her not being here."

rafe's hands moved from your cheeks to your hands, the man instead taking your clenched fists into his, letting out a small sniffle, and when he pressed his eyes closed and let out a sigh, a tear rolled down his cheek.

"yeah, you could've not driven in the rain. but i should've been the one to drive you to your mom's, you were eight months along, an insane man would make you drive yourself, or i should've made sure you got home before it was dark, or i should've picked you up myself. there are so many things we could've done differently, but that doesn't mean that either of us is to blame for it."

"i spent so long blaming myself for what happened, but not even for a moment did i blame you. you did everything to keep her safe, and i know it, and i'm sure that she knows it too. you loved her more than anything, and i won't let some drunk driving idiot make you feel like you did anything wrong."

slowly, you opened your fists, half-moon prints on the palms on your hands caused by your nails, and without even realizing, tears had been rolling down your eyes the entire time that rafe had been speaking, the man standing up and pressing a kiss on your forehead that felt like it burnt and would leave a mark that'd be there forever, before he settled down next to you.

a strand of hair was stuck on your cheek, almost glued on there by the tears you shed, the blonde man tugging it behind your ear, his eyes still on you, his hands still cupping yours.

"i don't blame you for what happened, nor do i blame you for pushing me away. but i wish you would've let me in, to be there for you, instead of leaving. so we could've grieved her together."

"i think we should break up, rafe."

"what?" rafe turned to look at you; this wasn't what he had been expecting to hear after two months of silence, "if this is about the baby-"

"i can't do it anymore." you closed your eyes, letting a tear run down your cheek, "i need to leave. start over."

you turned your head to look at him, his words feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and even though you tried to find it, there was nothing in his eyes that said that he was lying.

"you don't blame me for any of it?"

your voice was weak and feeble, as if a part of you was expecting him to tell you that he did, but when he pulled you into his embrace, he told you the truth in the best way he knew how to: without saying a single word.

you didn't know how long you had been in rafe's arms; it felt like hours, while also feeling like the moment had lasted mere seconds, like you two lived in your own bubble. it felt like the last four years hadn't happened, like you had never left.

but when he pulled away from the embrace and looked down at his watch, letting out a sigh, you knew what was coming. the bubble burst.

"i should probably get going." rafe let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose before starting to get up off the couch, stretching his long limbs.

"yeah, yeah." you said softly, clearing your throat, trying to act like nothing had happened, like you hadn't gone through every memory you shared while he was just holding you to comfort you, "your girlfriend's probably waiting for you."

rafe stopped in his tracks, turning to look down at you, "girlfriend?"

"shit," you chuckle softly, fidgeting with your hands and chewing on your lower lip, "i guess she's your fiancée, now."

he sat down on the couch next to you while you simply avoided his gaze, not wanting him to read everything you were feeling like he so often seemed to do, but your attempt was unsuccessful, the man bringing his hand to your chin and gently turning your head so you were forced to look at him, his brows slightly furrowed while he looked at you pointedly.

"what girlfriend, or fiancée?"

you didn't know if rafe was acting stupid, or if he was genuinely confused, but you could still remember the woman with him at the jewelry store, the woman who had managed to make him smile, whose back rafe placed his hand on.

"you know," you clear your throat, taking his hand off your chin and turning your head away from him, not wanting him to see the tears brimming in your eyes as you thought about him waiting at the aisle for another woman, "the woman at the jewelry store."

rafe let out a soft laugh, and when you turned your head, facing him, he was nearly keeling over in laughter, his head in his hands.

"what?"

"that-" rafe said inbetween laughs, "that wasn't my girlfriend."

"what?" you mumbled softly, your brows furrowing, "what do you mean, rafe?"

"sorry-" he continued laughing for a while only to be stopped by a soft smack you delivered to his shoulder, before the man took a deep breath, looking at you with a small smile gracing his lips, a sight that still got your heart to flutter, "that wasn't my girlfriend, or my fiancée."

"then... who was she?"

"that was," rafe let out another chuckle as if you had said something foolish, taking one of your hands in his and intertwining your fingers, "wheezie's girlfriend."

you tried processing the words that had left his lips, but no matter what, they didn't seem to make since. "why were you in a jewelry store together? wheezie's only like-"

"wheezie's nineteen." rafe shook his head, "her girlfriend, lucy, asked me to help her pick out a ring. sarah was supposed to go with her, but she had some preschool stuff to deal with relating to jack, so i got stuck with that duty…"

"isn't nineteen a bit... young?"

"it is. but you remember how young we were when we got engaged? or sarah?" a fond smile took over rafe's lips as he turned to look at the fire that was slowly burning out, letting the next words out in a hushed tone. "guess it runs in the family."

"guess so." you say, biting down on your lip, turning to look at the fire with him, your cheeks warm as you felt like an idiot for your assumption.

"i still haven't moved on." rafe said, letting out a breath, "i don't know if i can. i don't think i even want to." you turned to look back at one another at the same time, both of you seeing the same melancholy in the other one's eyes, "there's no one i would ever want to be with other than you."

you took a deep breath, his words ringing through your head as you looked at him, a damp trail running down his cheek was still visible from the tears he had shed, and you took a deep breath, making a decision that you knew would impact the rest of your life.

"me neither, rafe."

you brought your hand to his cheek and felt the tear he had shed under your touch, pulling his face to meet yours until your lips clashed, feeling the exact same that it did four years ago, making you wonder how you ever let it go.

SIX MONTHS LATER...

you laid on a blanket in the middle of a field of sunflowers, your arms crossed behind your head and your eyes pressed closed, letting the sun beam down your face, warming you up as your bare feet were being tickled by blades of grass.

your daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and you opened one of your eyes to see rafe stumble through the long flowers into the small clearing you'd found, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

"don't laugh at me." he scolded, shaking his head as he landed on the blanket next to you, letting out a soft grunt.

"why not?" you asked, sticking your tongue out at him, your boyfriend gasping in feigned offence, about to quip back at you, only to be stopped by the small, chaste peck you pressed on his lips, even the small display of affection managing to leave him speechless.

as he settled down next to you, you smiled while looking up at the sky, white clouds covering a part of the beautiful icy blue nothingness that was so much like rafe's eyes, your thoughts on her. you took rafe's hand in yours, keeping your eyes trained up while you let yourselves just exist together.

"you're always going to be in my heart, evelyn louise cameron." you said softly as you traced the patterns on your locket, rafe turning his head to look at you, a somber expression on his face as he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"yeah, she will. and neither of us will ever forget her."

[antlersaint]

cockwarming adult!lottie because she might have gotten a little jealous... 😋 takes place when lottie still has the wellness center, tfem lottie. warning for legal age gap (reader is in 20s) and some possessive behavior / language!

this is torture. she's torturing you.

generally speaking, lottie wouldn't call herself a jealous person. you're hers as much as she is yours, and you've never given her any reason to think otherwise. but nonetheless, those thoughts and their corresponding emotions fester when she'd gone to pick you up from your campus earlier and seen you talking to someone. but it wasn't that, no, you chatted with your peers on the regular; what bothered her was just how close the other person was. their hand on your arm, lips turned up in some half-smirk-half-smile. you either hadn't caught on to what was them obviously flirting or— she doesn't want to entertain the possibility of an or.

when you climb into the passenger seat, dumping your bag and other belongings into the back, you can immediately tell that there's something off. lottie's shoulders are tense, and the leather on the steering wheel is creaking under her grip, but when you question her, she waves it off and gives the simple excuse of having a long day.

obviously, it was more than that, because here you are now. straddling her, face sitting in the crook of her neck, and her cock buried to the fucking hilt inside of you while she fills out paperwork. you've been instructed to remain still, with the lingering threat of being left untouched if you don't. you're fairly certain it's because of something that happened, something you might've done, but she won't give you any answers.

"l–lot, is—" you interrupt yourself with a hitch of your breath when her hips twitch up, a silent warning to be quiet. she needs to focus, doesn't she? your soft whimpers aren't helping any, but there's only so much she can do about that. not that she's actually working, she just has a point to prove.

after another what feels like a lifetime, (realistically, four or five minutes), you finally get some context into where her bad mood is coming from. "who was it that you were speaking with, when i came and picked you up?" it takes a moment or two, not only for the question to register but for you to connect the dots on what exactly she's talking about, but it's clearly not fast enough, because at your lack of response, lottie's fingers curl around your jaw and maneuver you away from the comfort of her skin, nails biting in subtle yet demanding way.

there's a sharpness in her eyes you see only in rare instances, the pen she was previously wielding discarded in favor of her palm skimming up and under the hem of your shirt. "i asked you a question, darling, and i expect an answer. who was it?"

you rummage around in your brain, stammering before getting your words in order. "a new transfer student, s–she—" you shiver, forced to take pause when her touch travels along your ribs. "she needed directions, so i was helping her o–on where her next class was."

lottie hums, pretending to consider what you'd said. it hardly matters, she has plans for you either way, though it does serve to soothe her nerves over just a little. you wait longer, expecting at least something in return, but instead, all of a sudden her hands are anchoring under your thighs and you're being lifted up; and then promptly discarded on the desk. she remains inside of your cunt, ensuring you're never completely seperated. the paperwork she was supposedly filling out will be ruined, if not now then soon, but they can always be reprinted.

"you're mine, sweetheart. you know that, don't you?" she guides you to lay back fully on the desk, one of your legs sitting lazily on her hip while the other remains held up by her hand. your lips part with the intention of saying something, maybe asking if she was uncomfortable with what she saw or thought she saw, or giving her a 'yes, i know', but all words fly out of the window when she's pulling back and then thrusting forward again, the muffled clap of your thighs against her own through the loose fabric of her gown a delicious sound.

you've never seen her jealous. really, you didn't know she got jealous, but you'd been lying if you said you didn't find it at least a tiny bit thrilling. lottie is known for her impeccable composure, and watching that slip from her grasp so she can ruin you on expensive furniture she frequently utilizes sends your mind reeling.

she's rougher than usual, but not unkind. by the time she pulls out, panting and spent, you're left practically boneless, eyes glossed over and head empty. when she hums again, it's smug, amused as her gaze follows both her cum and yours dripping out of you and onto the floor. your entire body jerks at the feel of her fingers prodding at your entrance before pushing inside, two, three times before they're gone again.

"can't have that going to waste, can we?"

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Fourteen

— Little Big Champion

Series Masterlist

wc: 1.9k

Note: we're gonna pretend that Max won the championship in the race, and the sprint race didn't exist for the purpose of the plot.

"Holy shit," you murmur as the car rolls to a stop right beside Max's private jet. "Shit," your daughter repeats which earns a laugh from Max.

You shake your head and tell her, "don't say that." Luckily, she'd been so focused on the plane that she'd forgotten to wonder why. Other times, even after being given a response, she would persistently demand for the explanation, usually with "why, mama?" multiple times.

You turned your head to look at Max, who was already smiling due to your reaction. "You do know that you're about to ruin every other plane experience for me now, right?" You ask with a little chuckle and Max, being Max, nods. "Yeah, and you do know that we'll be flying private for most of the races," he said, adding, "or vacations."

"Is this your plane, Maxy?" Isabella asked, slightly leaning over your lap to look out the window as it gave her a better view of the aircraft. "It's ours, princess."

Your attention remained fixed on Isabella's expression as she took in all of the details inside the plane. Max was used to the luxurious life after travelling to so many nations in this plane. To you and Isabella, however, it was a whole new experience, and you couldn't help but feel both delighted and comforted that this would eventually become your new normal. Max hasn't hesitated to spoil you or Isabella thus far, and he has no intentions to stop, especially now that he's become addicted to the joy he feels when he does something for you or Isabella.

Once you were settled in, you were welcomed with a glass of champagne for you and Max, and apple juice for Isabella—served in a champagne flute to prevent her from feeling excluded.

This time, it was a much smoother experience for your daughter, especially during takeoff which she was very nervous about based on the last time she had flown.

Isabella was out like a light once the jet was in the air, and she was able to sleep peacefully because flying private had far fewer people than flying commercial. You and Max had moved to the opposite end of the plane to chat freely, but you could still keep an eye on Isabella in case she awoke.

The flight consisted of only Max, Isabella, and you, with a few crew members present. When you saw the lack of his team, you asked about it. "I might've told them to fly commercial," he said with a shrug.

"And they're going to hate me before I even meet them properly," you responded. While you had met a few people that were a part of his team, Max would be reintroducing you as his girlfriend.

He shook his head, "no they won't. I had to make sure that your first private flight experience was the best of the best, and that wouldn't be possible with them around."

—

You were in a completely new country, new paddock and new track but it still felt familiar since you had Max by your side. A few other drivers had come up to you and your daughter, having recognized you from the last time you were Max's guest at a race.

"I know RedBull is your favourite team, but what about McLaren?" Lando asked Isabella, who pressed a finger against her cheek to pretend to think for a moment. "I like RedBull, Ferrari, and then McLaren," she counted on her fingers.

Lando's jaw dropped, placing a hand to his chest in mock hurt, "third?" Isabella giggled, "out of ten, Lando."

"But still, what will it take for McLaren to be first?" Max interjected before she could respond to Lando's question. "Stop bothering my Bella, you're not her favourite." He was pleased to be her favourite, both on and off the track. Perhaps second to you off track because you were her mother, but he'd still consider it a win.

Lando approached the three of you a few minutes earlier, immediately sparking up a conversation with Isabella after hearing all the good things about her through Max. Lando was one of the very few people Max had told about you during the short break between races. It was strange to see Lando clad in the opposing team colours near the rival team's garage, but he had to know the two people who owned Max's heart—which were exactly the words Max had told him, albeit Lando found those words a tad too sappy.

Ignoring Max's comment even though he looked up to acknowledge him, he asked Isabella another question. "What about your favourite driver, and don't say Max."

Max looked at you with an expression that said, "are you going to let this happen?" You laughed, looking at the Brit and commenting, "I don't think you'll be happy with the answer, Lando."

"Maxy is my favourite but Charlie too," Isabella stated right after your words earning a gasp from Max and Lando. "Charles?" Max asked, surprised as well.

Max never really thought about it and certainly didn't think Charles would be her second favourite driver. He was aware that Isabella would undoubtedly have other favourites than him but just not as good as him.

"Yes, Charlie," Isabella confirmed, and at the same time the driver walked past them, stopping once he heard his name.

"Ah, hello Bella," he held his hand up for a high-five. He playfully removed the cap she already had on—which was the one Max gifted—to replace it with the one he had on his head; Ferrari.

Max leaned closer to you and whispered, "there are too many non-redbull drivers here." Hiding your laugh behind your hand, you responded, "you can't tell them to leave though, we're not in the garage." He raised his eyebrow, "why not?"

"Just look at Bella," you said, nudging your head towards the scene in front of you two. Her eyes lit up as she giggled at the two drivers who spoke to her. Lando placed his McLaren cap on her head, on top of Charles' cap already on her head in an attempt to outshine the Ferrari driver.

That earned a smile from Max, "I'm glad she's comfortable here, not many kids are." You nodded, "well she will be growing up around the tracks, either to watch you or if she decides to be like you."

Max's head snapped in your direction, "what do you mean be like me? She wants to race?" Around you, he was always expressive, so you could see the glint of hope that was beginning to form in his eyes. Again, you nodded, "she might've mentioned it once or twice but if you can't tell I barely know anything about the sport and even less about karting."

"I can help, please let me take her karting," Max immediately requested, because the prospect of Isabella starting karting, especially under his coaching and guidance, was nothing short of a dream.

"I think she would love that, but let me tell you now that it's already scary enough seeing you race so I'm not sure how I would handle it if Isabella has even a fraction of your talent," you stated firmly, earning a sharp nod in understanding from him.

Max grinned as he observed your daughter incorporating Charles and Lando into her imaginary activities. This time, the two professional drivers were passengers while she was playing the role of a race car driver.

"Oi, lovebirds, join us," Lando made a disgusted expression as he witnessed you and Max cuddled together, but he secretly enjoyed seeing the two of you together—not that he would ever tell Max.

Dropping the conversation for now, you and Max joined in on the little game until the drivers were needed by their various team members.

—

He did it; Max won the race and the world championship title yet again, for the third time in a row. As a result of his competitiveness and success as a driver, the title had already been determined with five races remaining in the season.

Behind the row of team members—mainly from RedBull and McLaren—you stood among them in parc fermé with a tight grasp on your daughter's hand waiting for Max to park the car in the spot reserved for the race winner.

Cheers and claps could be heard loudly as he stood on top of the car for a moment, throwing his hands up in celebration. With his helmet still on, he rushed towards the team standing behind the barricades, earning praises and applauses from each person he neared.

Amongst the crowd, he spotted you, and while you couldn't see his full face, you knew from the way his eyes crinkled around the corners that he adorned a wide smile on his face.

Max stood right in front of you, but yet it was still too far as a few people were blocking his view of you. Gesturing with his hands, he asked for you to be brought closer and you obliged as soon as you were given space.

He removed his helmet and balaclava which allowed you to see his beautiful face, still adorning a smile on his face but only fondness in his eyes remained as he continued looking at you.

Shoving the balaclava inside the helmet, he held it in one hand to the side while grasping the back of your head with the other. The noises around you seemed to fade away as soon as his lips touched yours, leaving you with only the immense hammering of your heart.

Parting away, you rested your forehead against his for a moment. “Congratulations, baby,” you spoke, loud enough to be heard amongst the crowd that you couldn’t care less about in this moment.

The audience begins to disperse, gathering around the podium for the upcoming celebrations. Max receives a pat on the back, indicating that it is time to go to the cooldown room, but his gaze never shifts away from you.

He knew he couldn't leave without placing another kiss on your lips, so he gave in to his desires by closing his eyes, silencing the world around him once more to focus on the delicate sensation of your lips pressing against his.

Max truly felt like a champion, because not only did he win the world driver's championship of this season but he also had you right by his side to experience the thrill of winning it all. He may have won two other championships in the previous years, but this one felt completely different; much better.

Inevitably, he's pulled away from you by someone from his team. "Go get that trophy, champion," you state, wanting to see him hold the race winning trophy now, and even the championship trophy during the gala.

Right before turning around, he focused on your daughter, messing with Isabella's hair again until she slapped his hands away. She still had a really big smile on her face, having seen Max win the race and the championship at the same time.

You still held Isabella's hand as you began the short walk towards the podium, but she squeezed it tighter to grab your attention. Your smile plummeted and dread instantly filled your heart as you heard your daughter's words, "mama look, it's daddy," she pointed at him with her free hand.

Taglist: @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @wonnou @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy @formulanni @ellouisa17 @phantomxoxo @samantha-chicago

[qdbs-writes]

How do you think the Cullens would act around a disinterested crush? Maybe they're fated but reader isn't having it lol

(I love your twilight writing btw thank God someone is still doing it 🤤🤤)

ah it has been many moons since I've gotten a twilight request yay!

Cullen Clan Reacting To Their Crush Being Disinterested In Them

Carlisle Cullen

Being alive for just over 400 years tends to give one a good perspective on life and the bigger picture, and Carlisle sure has a pretty good idea of how all things pan out. So you're not interested in him? That's fine, Carlisle can wait for as long as you need to change your mind.

In the meantime, Carlisle will continue to maintain your friendship and continue to show just how hard he's worked to become the kind caring father figure he is. He knows you'll fall for him, eventually.

Esme Cullen

Obviously, she's not going to stop caring about you just because you don't return her feelings. But she might switch up how she shows her affection.

Rather than flirty winks and suspiciously candle-lit wine tastings, she'll back up to more traditionally motherly affections. Making sure you're eating right, baking cookies, etc. And of course, giving you homemade soup when you're sick is still one of her favourite things to do, no need to stop now.

Edward Cullen

Of course, you're not interested, how could anyone love a monster like him? Who did he think he was, thinking he was worthy of your love? Or so his inner monologue goes.

But it's really not that dramatic, it almost never is, Edward just sprung his crush on you suddenly and it caught you off guard. It was largely the excessively long preamble about how he was an irredeemable murderer that put you off first, but of course, he won't realise that until considerably later.

Rosalie Hale

She's a little relieved actually. All her mortal and immortal life, Rosalie has been aggressively pursued by people she wasn't particularly interested in, so the fact that she can crush on someone who isn't really that interested is a wonderful change of pace.

For the first time ever, Rosalie has butterflies in her stomach, she fumbles with her words when she speaks to you, and she feels like a silly, mortal teenage girl again, begging her mother to let her go to the dance just so she can sneak away to catch a glimpse of someone just like you.

Emmett Cullen

You and Emmett had been good friends for a while so when he casually drops a blissful "We should get married" into the conversation, you initially choke on your drink in laughter.

Emmett's a little heartbroken that you'd laugh at something like that, considering that he was being 100% serious. But since you've known him, the both of you have been constantly cracking up jokes, trying to get on each other's nerves, so no wonder you thought this was another one of his pranks. He decides to take this reaction as a blessing, you have no idea he's actually into you, now he knows he has to work out a different way to confess his feelings for you.

Alice Cullen

She's a little confused obviously, having multiple visions of the two of you in a romantic relationship kind of gave her the impression that it might've been going to come true, but your disinterest says something else altogether.

But the worst part is that those damn visions of you and her together keep coming back, taunting her, luring her in deeper to despair with the thoughts of what might be. It's all getting so intense, so she decides to skip town for a bit, see if that changes anything, or at least helps her clear her head.

Jasper Hale

Oh well, so you're not interested in a romantic relationship, so what? Doesn't mean you can't still be friends. Doesn't mean he can't be the charming Southern gentleman he is. Doesn't mean he can't still pull out chairs or open doors for you. Or send anonymous bouquets to your house. Or leave your favourite snacks in your locker when you're having a rough day. Of course not.

It doesn't mean he can't worry about other people who might want to date you. Doesn't mean he can't scare off people who'd be bad for you. I mean, what else are friends for?

[faynthearted]

maybe I'm overthinking things, but whenever I see people talking about significant/transformative moments in tianshan's relationship (barring their fight, the kiss, the ear piercing, etc.), I'm always a little disappointed no one points out the scene where the boys are going through the cardboard boxes of random things from he tian's childhood and he tian says something to the effect of, "the entire world is out there but everything I've ever owned only fits in these two boxes" and then he discreetly places his hand palm-up between him and guan shan. and guan shan pauses for a moment before placing his glass in his hand. and then the chapter ends.

this moment is one of the few panels I've saved over the years:

like... it's short but there's so much emotion behind this scene, it's hard for me to put it into words succinctly. and it stands out to me because it's not particularly intense or climatic like their other big moments. it happens soon after she li assaulted guan shan on the riverbank — which was heavy on the drama and ultimately the catalyst for tianshan's relationship. he tian had also just been financially cut off from his family and guan shan had been physically and emotionally vulnerable/exhausted for some time. basically, things were still raw and hectic for both of them in different ways

so this quiet, subdued, and wordless interaction between them on the balcony was very interesting. I honestly think it's one of the first instances in which tianshan have a personal/intimate mutual understanding of one another without an outside force influencing it or the moment being interrupted. and somehow, it's both abnormal and very fitting that he tian didn't make a grand gesture in this moment. like, if you think about it, he simply turned his hand on the cushion and looked at guan shan. it wasn't obvious; he wasn't making a scene. but of course guan shan, hyperaware of him, noticed

and the fact that the chapter ends after that also stands out to me. again, if he tian was being his normal self, he probably would've said/complained outright that he obviously wanted guan shan to give him his hand, not his glass, or he probably would've grabbed guan shan's hand as he was placing the glass down because he tian always just takes what he wants and tames guan shan's defiance or embarrassment after the fact

but instead, the chapter ends. and it doesn't even feel abrupt, really. it feels complete. and it makes me assume that he tian accepted the glass as guan shan's response and didn't press the issue. he might've just held onto the glass in his lap (or drank from it while maintaining eye contact) and then moved his attention back to the group at large. and, again, that's both abnormal and fitting for him in this scene

and I know I just said "guan shan's response" but what's frustrating — and fascinating! — is that I've yet to come to a definitive conclusion about what the (unspoken) question/response between them was to begin with. of course, he tian had just finished talking about the paradoxical state of his life — about how he could have everything and yet he has next to nothing — so maybe his "question" for guan shan was as simple as: "even if I don't have/want anything else, can I at least have you?"

but I also think it's interesting to consider that jian yi immediately laughed at he tian after he finished talking, accusing him of being dramatic (and in jian yi's defense, he'd never really seen an honest version of he tian like guan shan had at that point, so I don't blame him for thinking he tian was just being melodramatic for attention as per usual). anyway, jian yi and zheng xi got a good chuckle out of it, but guan shan didn't. iirc, he actually looked a bit lost in thought before he noticed he tian looking at him, and then his hand between them

with that small detail, it makes me think he tian's question leaned more toward: "do you believe me?" or maybe "do you understand me in the ways I want you to?"

I'd like to think he tian wouldn't have offered his hand if guan shan had also rolled his eyes with zhanyi — poor little rich boy — and dismissed what he'd said. but then again, with the state of their situation/relationship at that point, I don't think there was a chance in hell that guan shan would've dismissed him. I'm sure we can all agree that he tian's intense emotional response to finding guan shan injured and subsequently taking care of him without expecting anything in return drastically changed guan shan's perspective of him. guan shan had a lot to process at that point in the manhua, and a lot of hard truths to start acknowledging. it was clear that he tian had a lot on his mind during that time, too

so guan shan placing the glass in he tian's palm might've been him saying, "I'm still figuring this (us) out... but my answer isn't no" (hence the reason why he tian presumably didn't push the issue further bc he was more cognizant of guan shan's boundaries by this point) or it might've been him saying, "yeah, I'm starting to understand you, and you're not what I thought you were but that's not scaring me away" (therefore affirming he tian's question so he didn't feel the need to pursue the moment or make a bigger scene)

in any case, although there's no continuation after that scene, I think they were both satisfied by the end of the evening. I don't think he tian was disappointed by guan shan's response, and guan shan would've known that too. in fact, I'd argue that guan shan wanted to reaffirm he tian's emotions in that moment. the worst (yet easiest) thing guan shan could've done is look at him, look at his hand, and then look away and ignore him — literally leaving him empty-handed. that would've left he tian in a sour fucking mood... or at least a bit wounded

but instead, guan shan chose the more honest/reciprocal route even if he wasn't 100% sure yet. and... I don't know. it really stands out to me and I think a lot more was happening in that interaction than what could've been expressed in words. and yet I've literally never seen anyone talk about that scene since it was posted — which, fair enough. it's only a couple of panels. but I think about it constantly!

[elysiality]

TRICK OR TREAT —

natalie scatorccio and shauna shipman. (PT.2 to W.I.T.H.)

"I know what Halloween is, Shauna." you grumble, rolling your eyes.

"You sure?", she asks, grinning widely as she adjusts the paper horns on the guide's decapitated head. "I could make you a presentation— but no promises that it won't just be several pages of 'The terribly drawn adventures of Count Chocula and Franken Berry.' "

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

-⋆˚꩜｡ synopsis — ever since the knife incident, Shauna's been latched onto you like a leech hungry for blood. as annoying as this is, an opportunity for escape presents itself in the form of your girlfriend, Nat. you let yourself indulge in malicious compliance with what 'It' wills. (requested part 2 to Wolf In the Headlights)

-⋆˚꩜｡ content contains — fem! reader, yellowjackets typical antics, yellowjackets season 3 spoilers, shauna shipman being shauna shipman, marriage blood rituals (no, you're not reading this wrong), infidelity but not really??? blood, blah blah blah, you know the drill, I am not a botanist chat, consensual (ish) drugging, clap if you're surprised, blood drinking, suggestive-ish?? wow this is long—

══════════════════════════

ever since the knife incident™, you were under the, quite frankly, delusional impression that maybe Shauna would leave you alone now. maybe, just maybe, you and Nat could now live out the rest of your miserable, definitely shortened lifespan without the imposing influence of America's First Female Dictator (trademark pending).

as you might've guessed, that was not the case. if anything, she's just gotten even more annoyingly clingy and paranoid now— you didn't even know that was possible.

the whole 'good dog' comment was a spur of the moment thing. the most condescending, degrading insult you could think of at the moment (granted, not a very creative one). she took it to heart, as luck would have it.

she goes everywhere you go.

you're trying to do your chores? she's right next to you— not helping, but watching you do your work, sharpening that darn knife of hers like it wouldn't cut through diamond at this point.

try to sneak off with Nat for a secret, much needed makeout session? she pops out of seemingly nowhere, her footsteps blending in with the rustling of the trees, and completely ruins the vibe by scaring the living daylights out of the two of you.

it'd gotten to the point where you considered joining Lottie's weird wilderness cult to escape her— the one thing Shauna refuses to touch with a ten-foot pole.

unfortunately, Nat was on Shauna's side with that one, so that idea was completely vetoed. in her words, 'joining a cult is all fun and games until you realise that you can't leave'. you can't help but agree.

Shauna's 'affection' (heavy air quotes on that) isn't just limited to stalking either. she's been trying to show off for you— and by that, I mean that she's been showing off. plain and simple.

if she walked around like she had a stick up her ass before, there's an entire tree up there now. her favourite pastimes (since she was freed from butcher duty once she became queen) now include (but aren't limited to):

poking fun at Nat every chance she gets (expected, but disappointing nonetheless),

alternating between sneering at the will of the wilderness and fully supporting whatever It wills as long as it involves violence,

hitting on you like it's her full time job instead of actually trying to lead the group,

turning down Melissa's advances, thoroughly confusing the poor girl who she made out with less than a week ago, and finally—

running a full blown dictatorship with hut searches, body patdowns every morning (and she does yours personally), etc and relishing in the fact that no one can tell her to stop.

you're actually not quite sure why none of you have tried to impeach your 'queen' yet. you've brought up the topic with Nat in your hut before lights out almost every day, and every day she gives you the same answer— "She sees through our bullshit. We need a foolproof plan before we try to pull anything on her."

even worse, Hannah killed the guide dude. y'know, your pathway back home? yeah. so now she's in with the group and besties with Shauna, apparently. typical. homicidal murderers stay together, as you had remarked to Nat. you both chose to ignore the hypocrisy in that sentence.

so that's been your life now for the past couple of weeks. the days have been getting colder, and with it, everyone has been getting antsier.

Akilah has started frantically trying to breed out the animals as quickly as possible. small groups of two or three go out deeper and deeper into the woods every day to try to salvage whatever herbs and fruits they can find and possibly bring back their seeds. the animals have started retreating deeper. you've managed to skin and gut enough of them to get a decent supply of meat and warm fur, but it's not enough. it's still not enough.

inevitably, what you've been dreading will happen. winter will come and pass. your numbers will grow smaller and the pile of corpses will grow larger. who knows, maybe yours will be among them?

these were the wonderful thoughts that have been floating around in your head for the past week or so.

then came your salvation. Nat dragged you into your hut one night, claiming that she wanted to hit the hay early— odd, considering that she usually stayed up for hours on end after the sun went down (which signalled lights off, given that not one of you apparently thought to bring a watch with you to nationals), but you went with it. the days have been draining you of whatever little energy you did have.

to your surprise, what you expected to be an hour long cuddle session before falling asleep turned out to be a surreptitious strategy meeting. Gen, Robin, Melissa, Mari, Akilah, Van, Tai and even Misty piled into your tiny, cramped hut one by one.

"We needed to get you away from Shauna." Gen explains in a low voice, setting the torch down in its makeshift torch holder. Nat's jaw clenches. "She follows you everywhere. She has this nasty habit of sticking around our hut every night to make sure we aren't plotting against her."

your eyebrows raise just slightly. "Well I can't really say I'm surprised. So what changed tonight?"

Gen nods to Akilah. "Lottie tired her out today", Akilah tells you, her voice hushed as she glances around nervously. "I told her that I had a vision that Shauna would be our salvation. She basically forced Shauna out of her hut and took her to the woods to spend some quality time with her."

"Probably exchanging notes on how to piss us all off with tales of the wilderness and it's hunger for violence." Mari remarks to some nervous giggles.

"And you're sure she's asleep?" you ask, shifting backwards so that you're leaning against Nat, folding your legs in to make room for everyone else.

"We drugged her." Tai holds up a bunch of leaves you can't put a name to. you frown. you've seen some patches of these around your usual snare areas. "Akilah recognised these from her time with the Girl Scouts. We mixed it into her share of the berry juice. They made her sleepier. Van and I had to carry her to her hut. She was out like a light before we even set her down."

"She actually trusted you enough to drink it?", you ask, aghast. this was the same Shauna who had once threatened Robin at knife point to the point of tears because her stew was slightly off-colour. turns out, Mari had put in some natural laxatives in hers, just out of pettiness. they turned the stew a darker colour. she served a week on latrine duty for pulling that one.

"Well, yes, under normal circumstances she would've probably forced it down my throat, can, juice and all—", Van admits, her head drooping onto Tai's shoulder, "but I drank some of it in front of her to convince her. I don't think we fully got there but she was too tired to protest."

"And Lottie?", you persist. usually she's more on neutral territory, but she seems to have joined the Shauna Shipman hype train when she got the chance.

"Already taken care of." Tai replies, tucking Van's now sleeping head under her chin. "She accepted the juice without giving us any problems." "She likes sleeping early at night anyway." Akilah adds. "She likes the clarity the dreamless sleep gives her."

"Course she does." Nat snorts.

you're filled in on the plan, the girls enthusiastically rapid-firing their strategy at you. you're surprised to hear about the satellite cell thing from a suspiciously quiet, red-in-the-face Misty. Nat keeps glaring at her every now and then. you're not sure why.

with each word that leaves their lips, your heart becomes lighter and lighter. a way to get home. away from the wilderness. away from It. away from this rag-tag village made by teenage girls with not a single complete high school education between them and a body count that grows with each passing day.

"So...you in?" Nat asks finally, when all the girls have extinguished their frenetic explanations.

It's a no-brainer— you're getting good at those.

"Yes.", you reply immediately. "Hell yes. I'm so tired of this. I'm so tired of her." you get sympathetic nods. "I just— need to get away from her."

Misty holds up a finger. "But- wait. There is...a crucial role for you to play in the plan..", she explains nervously, looking around for support. everyone else determinedly avoids eye contact. she sighs dejectedly.

you're grateful that Shauna sleeps deeply when she does. you would've given the game away with the explosive reaction you had to the role you were assigned.

the next morning, you tramp out of your hut, steaming mad. Nat follows behind you, yelling after you and cussing loudly. you make as loud a ruckus as you can. sure enough, Shauna is stomping out of her own hut in half a minute, gun slung over her shoulder, hair tousled from sleep, her face twisted in annoyance and just the slightest hint of intrigue.

"Don't you fucking lie to me!" Nat snarls as you stomp off towards the animal pen. she grabs your arm roughly, spinning you around to face her dark eyes.. "— hey! I'm talking to you."

sure enough, Shauna storms up to Nat like a knight in blood stained flannel, shoving her off of you by the collar of her shirt. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Shauna hisses, advancing on Nat threateningly. one finger strokes the strap of her gun menacingly and Nat backs up a bit.

Nat eyes her gun for a bit and decides she wants nothing to do with that. "I'm gonna go check on the snares." she announces loudly. then, she shoots you a withering glare. "If there's any left."

she storms off towards the forest bordering the village, leaving a trail of literal dust fuming behind her. you cough as you wave it out of your face.

Shauna turns to you. "The hell was that about?", she asks. her tone is even enough, but you can glean the excitement in her eyes, the vehement tapping of her fingers against her chest.

you roll your eyes. "Nothing. It's nothing." Shauna groans in frustration. you start to imitate Nat, storming towards your hut, but she catches your wrist, spinning you around to face her again. her face is set in annoyance.

"It's not fucking nothing. Your beloved girlfriend, who was being a complete doormat for you like two days ago, is now starting fights with you at— like, the asscrack of dawn.", she snarls, her tone holding just the slightest hint of jealousy. "Now you're gonna tell me what's going on. Or so help me god, you're gonna pay for it."

god. she sounds like a corny stuckup villain from one of those archaic movies your parents used to watch. you think. you might just be making that up. you can't remember the last time you watched a movie.

you huff, kicking around the pebbles on the ground with the tip of your boot, muttering incomprehensible curses before giving in. "Yesterday, Nat couldn't sleep at night. She decided to break curfew and go check on some of the nets we strung up around those berry patches Gen found. They were completely ripped to shreds."

you pause for dramatic effect, looking at Shauna, who's hanging onto every word that leaves your mouth. like a moth drawn to a flame.

"She thinks I did it because Gen had an 'alibi' as she says." "Couldn't it have been an animal?" Shauna asks, slightly confused. "That's what I said!" you say impatiently. "But she shut me down which lead to the catfight you just saw."

you plop down on one of the chopped logs glumly, picking at your dirty nails. the perfect bait. she falls for it, hook, line and sinker. Shauna stands over you for a quiet second, stock still, then— "Come to the lake with me."

you look up, surprised at the suggestion. "The lake?" she nods, her pale cheeks flushing an unusual shade of vermillion. she shuffles on the spot, rubbing the back of her neck. "I drew the four today. I'm going to take the bucket downstream, but I need help. We need water for the animal pen too."

you eye her suspiciously. "And how do I know you're not just trying to take me out and shoot me or try to drown me or something?"

she laughs at that, a low, raspy sound that sends tingles down your spine. you're unsure of whether it's in a good way or a 'i should run way'. knowing Shauna for as long as you have, probably the latter.

she leans down your eye level, cupping your face, stroking your cheek. the calloused pad of her thumb traces the scar at the corner of your lip, the one you got from the plane crash.

"Don't worry about that, kitty-cat. You're too interesting to kill just yet."

you snort derisively at the nickname but you don't look away from her, maintaining fierce eye contact. she grins approvingly.

for the next couple of weeks, the cycle continues. Nat pisses you off more and more, pussies out on any dates you planned with her in front of the others, you go running to Shauna's arms, who smugly accepts your clingy affection. this seems to grate on Nat's nerves extraordinarily well, and she drifts apart from you further and further each day, much to Shauna's satisfaction.

you wake up one morning after a particularly explosive argument with Nat, surveyed by an incredibly tired Shauna. she'd stormed off to the woods at sunrise and you'd promptly fallen back asleep, completely unbothered. Shauna stayed with you until you did, stroking your hair. it's too early to ruminate in the miseries of your failing relationship.

as luck would have it, your beauty nap is rudely interrupted by a loud clanging coming from outside. your stick hut is unfortunately not a very good sun filter so you have to blink rapidly a couple of times as you sit up to clear your vision.

you frown as you see that the entire community is already awake and moving about outside, seemingly hard at work. you throw off your drab blanket, quickly changing into something subjectively presentable before trudging outside at a slothish pace.

your jaw drops the second you step out. your previously drab village now looks like the Halloween isle at Target just threw up over it. or well, it would, if all the decorations didn't look like they were made by three year olds. your friends aren't artists, clearly.

streamers, fake cobwebs, orange and purple spiders (did they use berry juice for dye??) are mounted on every hut. at the dinner table, a couple of the girls and Travis are using textbook paper (you had ample of those on hand, given that your school insisted that all students carry their study material to nationals— you thank your lucky stars) to make more spiders, paper pumpkins and just about every other decoration you can think off.

your eyebrows furrow in utter disbelief. Tai shoots you a grimace from where she's making bloodred berry wine, talking in hushed voices with an annoyed Mari, who looks like someone just pissed in her stew.

you scan the site for Shauna and see her out of the corner of your eye— putting fucking devil horns made of her own notebook pages and meticulously coloured in red onto the decapitated head of the necrotic guide.

you make your way to her, weaving through the chattering girls, wondering if you're stuck in a dream. you crash into several people several times which only confirms the reality of your situation.

Shauna looks up as she hears you approaching. she's looking quite pleased with herself, taking a step back, admiring the rather lopsided horns with pride. “Check it out.”, she says eagerly. “I used some of the cellulose from the plants to make glue. Smart, right?”

you cut to the chase immediately. “Shauna, what the fuck is going on?”, you ask. “Why does it look like we're trying to put on a Wilderness rendition of ‘Friday the 13th’?”

she stares at you, as if a bit confused. like you've just asked her why you weren't back home right now. “Halloween.” she says in a tone that clearly has an undercurrent of a sassy ‘duh’ to it.

“Okay, assuming it was even remotely around Halloween time, which it isn't, what's with all the decorations?” you press impatiently. “We're wasting resources.”

she squints her eyes at you, slight concern on her face. “Do you not know what Halloween is? Have you forgotten that much about civiliziation?”

"I know what Halloween is, Shauna." you grumble, rolling your eyes.

"You sure?", she asks, face stretching into a grin as she adjusts the paper horns on the guide's decapitated head. "I could make you a presentation— but no promises that it won't just be several pages of 'The terribly drawn adventures of Count Chocula and Franken Berry.' “

“No, my point is— why now? We've never celebrated— I don't know, Easter or Valentine's day—”

“We celebrated Easter.”

“With berries. And I'm pretty sure they were the poisoned ones. And we only found like— two.”

"It's the thought that counts."

she shrugs. then she turns to look at you. “If you really want to know, I'm doing this because Halloween is your favourite holiday.”

you're taken aback by that statement. you'd expected a ‘just because’ or maybe ‘i decided to join Lottie’s cult and this is a ritual to show our appreciation for the gifts of the wilderness’ (although that theory is quite the stretch). not this surprising display of thoughtfulness from Shauna.

“You're actually thinking about someone that's not yourself?” you say in disbelief, concern leaking into your tone. “Are you gonna sacrifice yourself to the voodoo forest gods or something?”

she huffs, wiping her juice-caked hands on a nearby rag that could've been a handkerchief or animal skin— you've stopped being choosy about two cannibalistic instances back. “Well you don't have to sound so surprised about it.”

“Well, I appreciate the gesture, I really do—” you start off, but she cuts you off impatiently as she chucks the rag onto a passing by Gen. “Trick or treat?”

you stare at her, miffed. “What?”

“Trick or treat?”, she repeats, stepping closer to you.

“Is this a trick question?”

“I don't know. Pick one.”

“Well- well treat, obviously. I don't fancy being jumped or something.” you stammer out, surprised at the abrupt question.

she smirks, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. you jerk back, heat rushing to your cheeks despite your best efforts to control the reactions of your face.

“Good choice.” she says approvingly, starting to walk away.

“Wait! What's my treat?”, you call after her, confused at the mixed signals she's sending you— the mixed signals being wondering whether she was flirting with you or severely plotting to murder you in your sleep. knowing her, the latter is quite likely.

she turns back and grins at you. “Wait till winter comes!” with that, she struts off, presumably to lord over Mari for fun.

the rest of the evening is…surprisingly cheerful? you feast on Coach’s remains (rest in pieces) as well as some of the last fruits of the season, talking and laughing.

everyone had a makeshift costume. it was fun to get resourceful, for them, at least. you weren't feeling very creative (when are you ever, really?) so you just put some paper horns on one of Gen’s headbands and passed it off as the devil. Shauna matched you, guiding you far far away from Nat, who had ironically dressed as your opposite— an angel.

you go to sleep hungover and curled up in Shauna's arms, your now official residence. Nat gets her own hut again. just like she always wanted.

the rest of the week counting down to winter pass by in a blur of prepping, piling on clothes and reevaluating your plan, over and over again. you wake up on winter morning, a pit of dread in your stomach, your body cold without Shauna next to you.

you hear the scream— shrill, loud and full of grief. shivers run down your spine and you wince as you pull on your multiple layers of clothing, dashing out of your hut to the animal pen, where Akilah sobs over the corpses of her babies. everyone gathers around her silently, looking down at the sprawl of your only food source, now dead and completely worthless.

it happens so quickly. the decision to hunt. the card drawing. you read them like books.

you pick up your mask— a fox mask. fitting. you grab the nearest weapon— a knife, and charge after poor Mari, wiping your stinging eyes as you do. Shauna is on your tail, marking you closely. something about it reminds you of the last soccer practice you ever had. the same collaboration. being able to predict each other's moves to work in harmony.

when you reach a copse of trees that bends into a fork, you see your opportunity. you turn to Shauna, who's scanning the woods with the precision and intent of a predator, starving for air. god, you are not athletic. “We should split up.” she immediately turns her gaze to you, her eyes wild and fierce. “No.”

it's a simple, one word command. an order to back down. as established before, you're not one to cower before her. you stand your ground.

“We should split up.”, you insist. “We'll have better chances of finding her. I'll reconvene with you at the village when the horn sounds.”

she grips onto your wrist tightly, no doubt leaving marks that will bloom into bruises tomorrow. her eyes lock onto yours. she's trying to psych you out.

but you've been here before— and won. you stare right back. you know you can wait her out. you have no interest in hunting down your friend. she, however, is losing precious hunting time and the annoyance is showing through her body language as the mist from her ragged breathing starts to get denser and denser with each passing second.

she gets off on the thrill. she can't live without it.

finally, she breaks the eye contact, groaning as she flips wisps of her sodden hair out of her macilent face.

she lets go of your wrist, glaring at you like you were the one that killed Jackie. “Fine.”, she spits out. “But if you don't come back to the village immediately after the horn sounds, I'm coming back to find you myself.”

she presses a kiss to your jaw that's more possessive than anything, before taking a left down the trail left by the snow, her boots trampling through the heavy white ground.

you head in the opposite direction at first, taking the right ‘path’, knife held aloft as if ready to strike. the second she's out of sight and you've sufficiently disguised yourself among the trees, you turn back and follow her discretely, keeping your distance.

she prowls through the trees, her footsteps soft on the snow, barely making a sound. her head twitches with the slightest noise, her hand resting protectively on her dagger. her eyes scan the vast landscape, searching, hunting. a wolf.

'run', you find yourself thinking desperately. 'run, Mari'. there's no way she'll survive out here even if she does escape. no food, no water, no warmth. murder is more merciful.

but you hope that if she truly does have to die, it's a mercy killing. that she comes face to face with one of her friends, who'll hold her hand as she bleeds out in their arms, who'll comfort her in the throes of the end of her life.

not Shauna. never Shauna.

you watch as Shauna discovers Mari’s clothes— her coat, her pants, her socks. poor Mari is now freezing cold, stripped down to her unders, running from your pack of wolves— and, you think, as you notice the red droplets on the ground leading away from the discarded rags, bleeding.

Shauna’s face changes from a confused grimace to a callous look of victory, a small smirk twitching at the corner of her lips.

something creeps up on you at that exact moment. a shadow of lingering anger that's always been there. resentment towards her— for everything, basically.

for killing Jackie.

for being enraged at the world for her baby not surviving and then taking it out on everyone.

for twisting her righteous grief into something dark and malicious that manifested in every terrible way possible.

all thoughts of the plan are abandoned as you watch the cantankerous girl trudge through the snow, looking straight ahead— as though she can smell the bloody trail Mari is no doubt still leaving behind. you snap off a branch, thick and heavy, from one of the nearby trees. you're hot with the blinding urge to punish. to make it sting.

she stops dead in her tracks, jerking awkwardly. she can sense something. she's not dumb, far from it. she's always had a sixth sense for these kinds of things— Jackie’s death, the fire, everything.

Shauna stands stock still, perturbed by sudden silence, the air of a foreboding omen lingering around her. you can see her grip on her knife tighten. you watch from behind a tree, eyes locked onto the two, faint red scars on her neck. your markings.

you don't think any longer. you charge her, so fast that she barely has time to blink before you're on her. her knife is once again knocked far far away from her hands, landing somewhere in the snow where you can't be bothered to look for it.

you're back in that position. straddling her waist, pinning her wrist down with your free hand, the other holding something to her throat. only, this time, you don't hesitate.

you press down with the branch, hard. she starts choking. “We've- been here- before…”, she chokes out, but she's smiling. her eyes glint with an emotion akin to pride. “Yeah. We have.” you pant out, furious that she's still able to talk.

she's coughing now. her air column is slowly being cut off, her lungs struggling for life. you can feel it. every single movement of her body underneath you, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her body frantically tries to get her the oxygen she needs.

“Old- habits die— hard, huh?” she chuckles out, but it's weak, pathetic. it lacks any of the caustic nature it usually holds

. you press harder. you've always thought the phrase ‘seeing red’ was a poorly described metaphor for being a total cornball— you think you know what that feels like now.

the grin on her face is fucking infuriating. with each pass of your eyes over her ecstatic face, the press of the branch against her throat becomes tighter.

you're vaguely aware of the horn sounding in the distance. you don't care. Mari is dead. if not her then another one of your friends. just another reason to kill her.

her face is turning blue now. her eyes flash with just the slightest hint of fear when she realises— you aren't stopping.

you don't intend to either. you want her gone. you want to feel her squirm and gasp for air under you, like poor Javi. like Mari. like everyone she ever left for the dead. to feel her pulse slow down, to see those earthy eyes glaze over as they stop seeing your enraged face, to see her stop feeling.

she's staring to panic now. her knife hand, which was previously holding onto the branch, pulling it closer, now struggles against the force you're using.

“Y-you know this isn't gonna do anything f-for you, right?” she wheezes out, hands scrabbling uselessly at the back of your own.

you count down the seconds till she stops breathing. the end is inexorable for her now. 10…9…8….

“She's already- already d-dead…”

her voice is getting weaker now, just a little above a hoarse whisper. 7….6…..5..

“You- you're just so…..fascinating…a-aren’t you?”

any second now, she'll die. you'll never have to deal with her again. 4…..3…2… almost...almost...—

“You're jus-just like me…for this…y'know that?”

with that, she pulls you down into a kiss, breathing her last breaths into your mouth as you gasp into it.

fucking hell. fuck. fuck fuck fuck. of all the bullshit in the world, that's what stops you.

you immediately yank your mouth away from hers, her freezing cold lips slowly turning pink from the warmth of the kiss.

you pull the branch away from her throat, just slightly. she immediately gasps for air, letting it fill her parched lungs again.

she smiles weakly at you, her face completely drained of its vivid colour. infuriating. you feel like giving up all morals and just throttling her.

instead, you roll off of her, throwing aside your branch. you both sit up, panting for completely different reasons. you look over at her from the corner of your eye as you rub the blisters starting to form on your palms.

her cheeks are now flushed red, her eyes sparkling in a way that you've only see them do when she was around Jackie. she's smiling uncontrollably, like a teenage girl with a puppy crush— which is, in hindsight, exactly what she is.

only, you aren't sure any other teenage girl with a crush in the outside world would be grinning like a lovesick fool after nearly getting strangled to death by the receiver of their affections.

“You're a sick fuck.” you spit out, rage making your voice shake. “I'll never be anything like you.”

Shauna grins at you cheekily, winking as she presses her palm gently against her sore, reddened throat. “You're right. You aren't anything like me. I would've gone for the kill, kitty-cat.”

you get up and stalk off, moving with as much agility as you can, your feet finding purchase in the snow. you don't have to look to know she's right on your heels. you wouldn't be surprised if she was skipping after you at this point. you don't turn to confirm your suspicions.

you find the other girls hovering over a pit in the ground. the lump in your throat is back as you survey the scene. Mari lies in pieces, impaled on spikes, in just her grimy, once white, tunic, her body completely stained in blood.

you wipe the stray tear that slips down your cheek, holding back the torrent of sobs that are stuck in your throat.

Mari, who was so excited to get back home and return to the land of creature comforts.

Mari, who saved Melissa when the guide shot her and had nursed her through the night, despite her clear dislike for her.

Mari, who had been cooking for all of you from day one, who secretly snuck you a couple extra rations when she noticed that you looked particularly malnourished.

Shauna steps up next to you, not half as emotional as you are. she examines Mari’s mangled corpse with the cold detachment that makes you shudder and want to slap some emotions, anything into her.

“Get her out of there.” she orders no one in particular, but the rest scramble to oblige anyway. you don't.

you watch, numb, as Gen and Melissa pull Mari out, letting Robin tie the knot on her leg to drag her along. you hear quite sniffles from beside you and turn to see Van, who looks about as devastated as you feel.

wordlessly, you hold out your arms to her for a hug. she accepts, trembling in your arms, warm tears dripping down your neck and soaking your shirt. you don't care, because you're crying too.

minutes later, Gen is leading the group back to the village as the designated navigator, the others in tow, dragging Mari’s corpse along and leaving a path in her blood.

you hang back at the very end of the group, walking slow, like a fly in amber. Lottie brings up the rear end, quiet as a mouse.

Shauna walks next to you, choosing not to comment on your languished pace, or on the tears streaming down your face that you hastily wipe away.

she rubs at the redness around her neck as she walks, hissing quietly under her breath from the friction burn. you silently take off your silk scarf and tie it around her neck. she thanks you. you, obviously, don't respond.

it's only after a few minutes of silent walking that the quiet becomes unbearable and you pipe up in a hoarse voice, “I'm sorry.”

Shauna chuckles dryly, turning her head to look at you, her steps becoming more like a strut. “No you're not.”

“No.” you agree. “I'm not.”

“The only regret I have is not finishing the job.”, you state flatly. She snickers. "As you should."

if Lottie finds this interaction odd, she doesn't let it be known. she's probably too busy foreseeing the divine future or whatever the fuck anyway. you wonder if she'd be able to foresee you poisoning her drink before it invetiably happens.

the unbearable silence stretches thick between the two of you again. you try to maintain that, but the urge to speak your mind is just as insufferable as the silence.

“It didn't have to be this way.” you grit out. “The hunt, I mean.”

Shauna turns to you again, flashing you those wide brown eyes that purport a sense of innocence that she definitely does not have.

“Oh but sweetie, it's what the wilderness wanted.” she turns her head around to Lottie, who's perked up at the mention of her god. “Isn't that right, Lottie?”

Lottie nods slowly, but it's clear that her mind is far, far away. “Yes. It's what It wills. It had to happen—”

"Oh can it, Lottie." you snap at her. she immediately defers, silently drifting back into her own thoughts.

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms tightly. “Bullshit. You don't even have faith in that.”

Shauna shrugs. “Who knows. Maybe I'm changing my ways.”

“I don't believe that for a second.”, you reply immediately.

“Then you know me pretty damn well.”

“And the hunt had to happen.” Shauna continues without a hint of remorse. her voice rises, but the others in front of you don't react. not a twitch, nothing. you suppose they don't want to be next.

“It's crucial to our survival.”

you narrow your eyes at that, your tone zealous. “And we couldn't have gone— I don't know, berry hunting?”

Shauna simply shakes her head, taking off her hat— Javi’s hat. “No. Death is essential to this place. We need to feed It blood. And she would've died anyway. She wasn't strong enough to survive out here. Natural selection works the way it's supposed to you.”

you stop in your tracks, gawking at her. she stops you, calmly mirroring your movements.

“What the hell are you even saying?” you ask, trying to hide the consternation coursing through every fibre of your being, every vein pulsing in your body, ever muscle stretched taut.

“You tell me. Does a hunt that has no violence feed anyone?”

the unsettling tone in which she said it, a cold statement utterly lacking human compassion, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up and causes your skin to prickle in a way that has you frantically rubbing at it through the bulky fabric of your clothes.

if you found it unsettling, Lottie must've thought she was in a living nightmare. you hear a small gasp behind you and turn just in time to see the tall, slender girl crumple into a heap on the forest floor, her mouth gaping wide open.

“Lottie!” you rush to her side, dropping to your knees and she stirs, completely and utterly dazed. you pull her head onto your lap as Shauna stares at the two of you in complete disdain.

“I'm- I'm fine…”, Lottie tries to tell you, but her tattered voice tells you better.

you start to fan her as the others get ahead. Shauna just shrugs. “Keep up.” she walks off to join the others without looking back.

you flip off her back and help Lottie get back on her feet. she stares after Shauna’s retreating figure almost reverently, before turning to you and giving you the sweetest smile you've ever seen from her.

it unsettles you immediately, and also makes you feel small— like she's a pre-school teacher watching you stumble over your ABCs. you silently help her to her feet and keep her balanced by letting her lean on your side.

the only sound for the rest of the trek is the quiet crunching of branches under shoes that ring out like gunshots in the silence.

they string her up by her feet like she's some fox they shot. not one of your friends, one of you.

it's all on Shauna's orders, of course, but that doesn't mean that you don't feel sick to your stomach when you see Mari’s glazed over eyes staring at nothing, a gaping hole in her cheek, her dark hair shrouding her face like a veil.

Shauna pulls out her knife, surveying the group for a victim, someone to fill her previous shoes. your stomach drops as her eyes lock onto you.

she glides towards you, a small smile on her face. she kisses your forehead lovingly and then pushes you out of her way, holding out the knife to the trembling girl in the pink hood.

“Natalie. Please, do the honours.” Shauna drops the knife into her trembling hands, and she grips onto it like a vice, turning it over unsteadily in her hands.

“The Wilderness has made its choice clear.” Shauna announces to the group. she scans them, waiting for any objection. none comes. Shauna turns back to the girl, her eyes gleaming with arrogance. “Prepare her for tonight. And when it's done, bring me her hair.”

you can't stand it. the girl's dark eyes look up to meet yours, terrified and shadowed by black powder. you choke down your fear, taking a firm step forward. “I'll help her.”

Shauna turns her head to you sharply and for a second, an uneasy sensation creeps down your spine. but then she smiles, shaking her head. “No. You're coming with me.”

she doesn't give you time to argue, taking your hand in hers. she bends down, brushing her cool lips over the back of your hand. “C’mon.”

before you can squabble with her on the matter, she starts pulling you behind her, making her way to the little alcove right behind your village. Lottie follows behind silently, her eyes locked onto the back of your head.

the others retreat into their huts, ready to wash the blood off their hands to get ready for the feast tonight.

you try to speak multiple times, but she hushes you each time. finally, as you dig your heels into the (literal) muck and refuse to move, she sighs deeply. “You're finally getting your treat, kitty-cat. Try to show some more excitement, yeah?”

your treat? as in, from Halloween, a million years ago?

you're about to grill her for more details when she finally pulls you into the alcove trove and effectively gags you.

in front of you is a chopped tree log, one of the more common pieces of furniture around these parts. but what makes your jaw drop is what sits atop the log.

a gorgeous crown of roses rests on the log. a variety of shades of reds and whites threaded together into a single crown, tailored to fit your head exactly.

it somehow sparkles, the setting sun light reflected off each frail petal, fluttering in the breeze.

the delicate scent tickles your nostrils, a considerable improvement from what your poor nose has gotten used to smelling in all the time you've been here.

the cherry on top is what's attached to them. gorgeous white antlers— a hind’s, perhaps, have been attached to the stalks tying the roses together. they've been meticulously polished until they shine and have flowers draped over them, crocheted together by fine twine.

you stare in awe, shocked speechless. as horrifying as it is to be stuck in the woods, you'll admit that there's been no shortage of beauty when the landscape is concerned.

somehow, Shauna has managed to craft something— or gotten someone else to craft something, let's be real, so incredibly stunning that it takes your breath away.

you turn your head to Shauna, your eyes wide— and sparkling, you're sure. she has the widest, goofiest grin you've ever seen on someone set on her face, her own shining eyes gleaming with pride. you've never seen her look as happy when it's not a hunt.

“Holy shit….” you stutter out, breathless.

“You like?” she asks the obvious as you turn back to admire the crown, slinging herself over your back, tucking her chin onto your shoulder.

“Yes- yes- I- is this for…me?”, you ask almost petulantly, picking up the crown with an almost childlike wonder, turning it over.

“It will be. On one condition.”

you almost drop the crown at that, but you catch it just in time and set it down carefully, turning back to face her. her arms are looped around your waist and she shuffles you backwards till the back of your legs hit the log.

your mood immediately sours, eyes narrowing. “Oh, of course. I should've known. What's the catch?”

Shauna turns her head to look over her shoulder at Lottie, who you nearly forgot existed in your admiration for the crown.

she's leaning against the doorway calmly, apparently watching you in a way you're sure she thinks is serene. you think she's a peeping Tom.

she nods encouragingly at Shauna, who turns back to you giddily, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Well…I'm queen now. Of our village, I mean.” she adds as you raise your eyebrows. “And like all good queens, I need a consort. Someone to look pretty and rule by my side.”

she takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with her own slim ones, resting her forehead against yours. “I've been waiting for weeks to do this. I think it's fair to say your relationship with Natalie is old history.”

you spare her a noncommital grunt of acknowledgement, your heart giving a meek twang at her words.

“So I want you to be mine. You're perfect for me. We're perfect for each other…. And the others— they love you like they don't love me. I need them to listen.”

“So I'm essentially your P.R. marriage?”

“No.” she shakes her head. “I need you.” she rests her forehead against yours, inhaling your natural scent, unbothered by the musk.

Lottie pipes up, ruining the intimate moment completely, as she has done several times before. blue baller.

“And besides, it's what the wilderness wills.” she finally steps into the alcove. the sun lights up the back of her head, almost like it's giving her a halo. huh. maybe there is some truth to the whole ‘lottie is jesus’ rumour spreading around camp (by one, Marianna Sofia Ibarra, of course.)

her eyes display her excitement even as her voice stays even and steady. “Your marriage will be beneficial to our survival. I can see it.”

you hear a record scratch and immediately put a little distance between you and Shauna.

“Woah, woah. Hit the brakes. Let's circle back to that. Marriage?”

Shauna shrugs, pulling you back into her as she smiles again. “How else are you gonna be the crown princess?”

“Aren't- aren't we a little young for that?”, you peep feebly, melting into her touch despite yourself. you've been starved for affection since you moved out of Nat’s hut and for some reason, Shauna’s lavish love is like a drug— intoxicating and addicting.

“We're both 18. And I think we've lost all sense of societal norms long ago.” Shauna says pensively, peering into your eyes. “I'm serious. Marry me. I want you by my side.”

you look at her, then Lottie, then at the crown. then you chew your bottom lip and exhale deeply, making your final decision. sometimes, you have to take one for the team. and sometimes, that phrase means marrying a gorgeous, severely mentally ill teenage girl.

you nose your way into her neck, inhaling her scent. thankfully, Akilah had also learned how to make natural perfumes a while back. it was a purely accidental but welcome incident. it wasn't nearly enough to cover the long term stench seeping through your pores, from your very being, but it did its job well enough.

“Fine then. I'll be your wife.” you submit quietly.

Shauna lets out a sharp bark of a laugh as she accepts your hug, clinging onto your clothes, nails digging into your bag. such a dog…

and that's how you end up here. you're sitting across from Shauna, a little ways away from the campfire the others have started. Lottie sits in between you two, a torch in between the three of you illuminating her face.

you're dressed in clothes almost identical to Shauna’s. your robe is a little shorter, but loose and comfortable. Mari’s hair dangles from various folds of hers. her crown of antlers sit next to hers. she intends to put them on during the feast.

yours, meanwhile, is already on your head. heavy is the head that wears the crown— and boy was this damn crown heavy. the things you do to look like a good monarch…

Shauna is eerily silent. apparently, Lottie had offered to officiate your impromptu wedding, given that she was the voice of the Wilderness or whatever other title she's being called by at this point in time.

Lottie snaps you out of your thoughts as she picks up two cans of steaming hot tea, and passes them to you two.

you take a cautious sniff and wince. it's strong and saccharine smelling— not at all the scent of the meager tea you usually make.

Shauna, meanwhile, downs the entire cup in one go like she's taking a shot, without any hesitation.

“Is there something in this?”, you ask Lottie, who's closed her eyes like she's trying to gather her thoughts, cautiously.

both Lottie and Shauna turn their heads to you like you just committed blasphemy.

you bristle, scoffing defensively. “What?”

“Sweetie.” Shauna's tone is warning and she tilts her head at you just slightly. an order to shut your trap. “Drink.”

you bite your bottom lip to prevent the protest that was about to leave your mouth, instead downing the sweet drink without any further comments. there's no point in losing your motivation after you've nearly reached the finish line. Lottie hums approvingly.

you set the cup down on a nearby stick, watching it wobble precariously before predictably toppling over. neither Shauna nor Lottie seem to notice. or if they do, they don't care, they're quite preoccupied at the moment.

“Hold out your palms, please.” Lottie says in a soft tone that makes you feel like you're trying to summon a demon at an occult club meeting.

you do as she says and she places the back of your hand on top of Shauna, who loops her fingers through yours, squeezing encouragingly. she starts chanting something in French that you can't be bothered to rack your brains to translate.

your mind is just flashing with thoughts like ‘this is stupid’ when the tea hits. your world turns upside down while your posture is still erect and things start blurring in and out of vision. the flames of the torch start dancing, burning high and bright, reflecting Shauna’s glowing face in them.

okay then. so that tea was definitely spiked.

you're brought out of your haze when a sharp, stinging pain runs across your palm. you let out a quiet yelp of pain as your eyes struggle to focus on your hand. you register red. oh. you're bleeding.

Shauna is bleeding from her palm too. unlike you, she didn't make any dying animal noises, instead sitting still as a statue, patiently awaiting the next set of instructions from Lottie.

Lottie picks up your paln, pressing it down on Shauna’s wound. you stifle another yelp of pain, watching as your blood mingles with Shauna’s, dripping out onto the pale white snow.

you're sure there's something poetic to be said about this scene. you're too busy reeling from being drugged to think about haikus and limericks.

you wonder how you understand the French that Lottie is spouting suddenly and then realise that she's switched back to English. you squint your eyes to take a gander at Shauna and catch her eye. her eyes are hooded and her jaw is slack. she's just as high as you are.

“...and hence drink her blood, so that you may be bound to each other by the grace of the wilderness.” Lottie says breathlessly.

your body somehow moves on autopilot, knowing what is wanted of you. you raise your palm sluggishly to Shauna’s lips. she catches your wrist, pressing her mouth to your blood-soaked palm.

she licks a long stripe across the length of your cut, blood dribbling down her chin.

you swallow harshly as she lets out a low groan at the taste of your blood before dropping your hand. she makes no move to wipe the remaining blood from her mouth.

then, she returns the favour. she presses her palm to your lips. your tongue swipes at the cut experimentally. a tangy, metallic taste bursts on your tongue, making you drool.

that's probably the iron deficiency talking, you think slowly, struggling to comprehend— well, anything, really. it's like trying to talk when your face is stuffed full of marshmallows.

Shauna watches, entranced, as you slowly lap up her blood, some of the warm liquid splattering on the front of your robes. the hunger in her eyes grows as she does.

she hasn't eaten since morning, the small part of your brain that's yet to be infected by the drugged tea reasons. that's not what she's hungry for, replies the other.

finally, she drops her palm after extricating it from your grip— you had unconsciously been holding it to your face with both hands, and you stare at each other, riveted by the bloody, messy sight of other.

she has somehow never looked better than she does now, mouth covered in blood, earthen eyes locked onto yours, dark hair whipping about loosely in the wind. the earth moves on without you. you're trapped here, lost in her, dead to the world.

Lottie's chanting in French again. you squirm, feeling antsy, hungry. hungry for her, your brain supplies helpfully.

thankfully, she seems to be just as affected by this weird...mating ritual thing, as you are. her bleeding hand scrunches up snow and then lets it goz over and over again, till it looks like a bunny massacre has taken place at that particular spot.

finally, finally, Lottie switches back to English, delivering the words you've been waiting, dying to hear.

“By the power vested in me by the wilderness, you may now kiss your bride.”

this time, when Shauna leans forward and captures your blood stained lips in hers, a messy, open mouthed kiss, you respond back just as hungrily, desperately gripping the front of her robe to ground yourself as you do. you taste the tea on her tongue and can't help but smile against her lips.

she pulls back from you, albeit reluctantly. she rubs your cheek soothingly as a small whine leaves you, her other hand finding yours. she turns to look at Lottie, who's staring at her reverently again.

“Come. We have a feast to attend.”

Shauna stands up first, somehow not faltering even a little, her back completely rigid. she takes your hand in hers tepidly, getting you up on your feet.

you aren't as elegant as she is, stumbling forward, but she catches you with a casual ease— like she's been doing this all her life. it certainly feels like you've been hers all yours.

Lottie gets up last, holding the torch. she nods at you two and starts ahead, leading the path to the burning campfire, where Mari’s body is being prepared.

you're too high to remember the semantics of the night. the only thing you remember is being seated next to your wife, her hand looped in yours, her veil over her head, her antlers protruding through like the queen she was born to be, your subjects seated around you as they feasted on the body of your fallen comrade.

you fall asleep sometime during the feast. clearly, Shauna had ordered the others to not wake you, since when you wake up, you find that your head is her lap, sleeping in till the wee hours of the morning. the girls are clearing up the remains of the feast.

Shauna smiles down softly at you as you stir. she leans down and kisses you softly before pulling away. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

you tense up just slightly before relaxing again. without the influence of drugs clouding your thoughts, you finally remember your aim again.

you roll over, forcing your body into a seated position, rubbing your eyes. “Mm. Don't tease your wife now.”

she laughs, a melodious sound that is completely uncharacteristic coming from her, but so natural too.

she once again holds onto your hand as you head back into the village, quietly looking at the rest of your friends. her grip is almost possessive now. you are hers now, you suppose.

you know what she's gonna do before she actually does it. she spots a familiar pink hood walking back to their hut and your eyes follow her line of sight just seconds too late. it doesn't even really matter.

she struts over confidently, spinning the girl around with the pride of a peacock before you can think to stop her.

your brain is still trying to recover from the after effects of being high out of your damn mind. your body feels light as a feather— but for a completely different reason.

you can't hear what Shauna’s saying, you make no move to either. you instead watch with vivid satisfaction as she taunts her to no avail, pulling her hood down to reveal Hannah.

she stumbles back in shock, her eyes wide and furious as her brain slowly processes what's going on. you can practically hear the cogs turning in her head.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS NATALIE?!” she screams as she whirls around to face the village, her voice shaking with anger and a touch of fear. perfect. just the way you like her.

the others emerge from their huts one by one— Tai, Van, Gen, Melissa, Travis— everyone. they all stare at her with a mixture of satisfaction and revulsion, refusing any explanations. they don't have to explain. the looks on their faces are telling enough.

her eyes lock onto you and then widen in betrayal. she knows that you had a role to play in this. about damn time that she realised.

“Shauna likes power. She won't jump in to save anyone— but she feels a claim over things that aren't hers.” Misty explains to you, her glasses making her eyes gleam in reflection of the torchlight.

or perhaps that's how she always looks. you're quite scared of her sometimes. “You need to weaponize that against her.”

you slowly start walking towards your ‘wife’, unable to resist the urge to deliver a villain monologue.

“You know, I thought you were smarter than that.” you start off wrly, smirking at her as you near her. “I thought you would've caught on immediately. It's why I was just the slightest bit hesitant of the plan at first.”

you lay your head on Nat’s lap, fiddling with the rough strands of blonde hair that's starting to fizz out as her roots show more and more. “And, you're sure you're fine with this?” you ask again, unable to hide the worry in your tone.

Nat laughs— a throaty, rough sound as her hands cup your upside down face, squishing. “Well, in normal circumstances, I would've ripped her fucking eyes out with that godamn knife of hers for even looking at you..”

she trails off to general giggles before continuing, “— but this is different. We- we actually have a chance. Of leaving this shit hole. Of getting home. And besides, I trust you.”

she leans down and kisses you— a tender, warm thing that fills your stomach with butterflies, like it always does. “So yeah. Fuck her if you need to. I know you'll always be mine anyway.”

“But I was pleasantly surprised when you let your guard down so easy. You really do have it bad for me, huh?”

you would've felt the slightest twinge of remorse for the hurt flashing in your eyes, did you not fiercely remind yourself that she was the reason you weren't cozied up with Natalie under a heated blanket right now.

you reach up for her face, stroking the gaunt lines of her cheekbones as you force her to look at you. “It's too late to clip her wings now. You can't stop her. She's long gone.”

you practically beam at the shattered look in her doe-like eyes, relishing in her shock as you remember all the times she's done the same to the others. you deliver the final blow— a death by a thousand cuts.

"You've grown quite predictable. I knew you'd turn out to be boring."

you press your lips to hers, humming as she stays stiff against you. then, your teeth graze the soft, plump flesh of her lips— and you bite down. hard.

she gasps, yanking herself away from you even as she starts to bleed, the red dripping down her chin and trickling into her robes.

you smile sadistically, squeezing her face with one hand to draw more blood. she hisses, drawing away from your touch like you've burned her. you roll your eyes. always the drama queen.

her eyes scan your face, looking for any hint of regret for doing this to her. she finds nothing.

you lick a droplet of her metallic blood from the corner of your mouth, swiping the rest off with your thumb.

then, you shoot her a sultry grin. just to dig the knife in a little deeper.

“Trick or treat, motherfucker.”

────────────౨ৎ ────────────

a/n: I tried to shorten it but it didn't work— whatever ig. you get a long fic now ! yayayayay— also, this once again had a lot more shauna x reader than nat, that's mb yall

if you want a pt 3 to this, get back to me after s4 releases cuz I have ZERO ideas rn lmao

reminder that requests are open for all the Yellowjackets girls, dead or alive!

taglist: @jigglypufflashton

[elliesbabygirl]

ch. 002 ⇄ ch.003; 10:36 - Beabadoobee

"You don't need me, as much as I need you"

my masterlist.

word count: 5.0k words

Series synopsis: friends with benefits, that's what ellie wanted. yet, she can't let you go, even after the messy 'breakup' between the two of you.

Warnings: mentions of drinking + implication of a character being high, mentions of blood + two characters physically fighting, swearing, crying, snot, and kissing. 🚶‍♂️‍➡️ft. mama bear dina fighting for you..

author's note: okay, was ch. 002 fire or was it firee?? 🔥I'm so glad people liked ch. 002 and you might've noticed that ch. 003 is a bit lengthy but that's because, I couldn't find a 'safe' spot to end the ch. on so I ended up writing way more than I intended to for ch. 003😭+ so if you see some wonky parts... Just know i was tweaking out tryna end this ch. (Not proofread..)

The restaurant was warm, dimly lit, the kind of place that had candles on every table and soft jazz playing just loud enough to make everything feel intimate. The kind of place meant for real dates—ones that actually required effort.

And Abby had definitely put in effort.

She looked good. Black button-up, sleeves rolled just enough to show off her forearms. Relaxed, confident, completely at ease. She had insisted on picking the place, made sure the reservation was set, and even ordered a bottle of wine before you had a chance to glance at the menu.

Now, sitting across from her, glass in hand, you couldn’t help but be impressed.

“You know,” you mused, sipping the wine in your glass, “when you asked me out, I wasn’t expecting this.”

Abby smirked, taking a sip of her own drink. “Oh yeah? What were you expecting?”

You hummed, pretending to think. “I don’t know, omething more… casual. A café, maybe. Bar food. Not—” you gestured around the restaurant, “—a place that has like, five different kinds of steak on the menu.”

Abby chuckled. “What can I say? I like to go all in.”

“Clearly.” You glanced at the menu again, shaking your head. “I feel underdressed.”

“You look great,” Abby said without hesitation.

Your cheeks warmed, but you played it off, shifting your attention back to her. “So, is this your usual move? Fancy restaurants, expensive wine, charming conversation?”

Abby raised a brow. “You think I’m charming?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Answer the question.”

Abby leaned back in her chair, shrugging. “Honestly? I don’t do this often, dating, I mean.”

You tilted your head. “Really? Thought someone like you would have people lining up.”

Abby huffed a small laugh. “I mean, sure, I’ve been on dates. But most people assume I’m just some gym rat who only talks about protein intake and deadlifts.”

You smirked. “I was gonna ask about your max bench, but I didn’t want to scare you off.”

Abby chuckled. “Two-thirty.”

Your brows shot up. “Damn.”

She grinned. “Impressed?”

“A little,” you admitted, sipping your wine. “I can barely do a push-up.”

Abby laughed. “I can fix that.”

“I’ll pass,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I��m more of a ‘stay in and read for fun’ kind of person.”

Abby perked up at that. “Oh yeah? What do you read?”

You hesitated, eyeing her carefully. “Promise you won’t judge?”

Abby smirked. “No promises.”

You sighed dramatically. “Philosophy.”

Abby blinked. “Like… old-ass philosophy?”

You laughed. “Yes, old-ass philosophy. Nietzsche, Camus, Sartre.”

Abby shook her head, amused. “So, while I’m lifting weights, you’re sitting around questioning the meaning of life?”

“Pretty much,” you said, grinning. “Balance, right?”

Abby chuckled, shaking her head. “That’s actually kind of cool.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t have to lie to impress me, you know.”

“I’m serious,” Abby said, leaning forward slightly. “I like that we’re different, you think about shit I never even consider. That’s kinda nice.”

You held her gaze, heart skipping a beat at the genuine look in her eyes.

You liked this, the ease of it. The way she could tease but still be sincere. The way her confidence never felt overbearing, just natural, like she was comfortable in her own skin.

And, most of all, you liked how—just for tonight—you weren’t thinking about anyone else.

The food arrived, and the conversation never lost its rhythm. The ease between you and Abby felt natural—effortless, even.

“So,” Abby mused, twirling her fork between her fingers as she watched you across the table. “Since we’re already talking about personal stuff—what’s your relationship history like?”

You huffed a small laugh, picking at your plate. “Going right for it, huh?”

Abby grinned, leaning her elbow on the table. “What? I like knowing what I’m getting into.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Not much to tell, really.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

You sighed, setting your fork down. “I mean, I’ve dated, had a few relationships, nothing too wild. The last one was… complicated.”

Abby caught the slight hesitation in your voice. The way you glanced at your drink like you were considering whether to keep talking.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Abby said, voice softer now. “I don’t mind complicated.”

You exhaled, shifting in your seat. “Let’s just say… we weren’t on the same page. I wanted something real, and she—” You hesitated, then shook your head. “She didn’t.”

Abby’s expression flickered for a second, like she knew exactly what you meant.

“That sucks,” she said simply.

You let out a small, dry laugh. “Yeah, kinda does.”

Abby studied you for a moment, fingers drumming lightly against her wine glass. Then, with a smirk, she said, “For what it’s worth—I noticed you way before we talked at the café.”

Your brows lifted slightly. “Oh?”

Abby nodded, grinning. “Yeah. First day of class, you sat a couple rows in front of me. I remember thinking you were cute, but I figured you had someone waiting for you already.”

You scoffed. “What, just because I actually pay attention in class?”

Abby chuckled. “No, because you just… seemed like someone who would be taken.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest, but you kept your voice light. “Guess you were wrong.”

“Guess so,” Abby murmured, her gaze lingering on your lips for just a second before flickering back up to your eyes.

Your stomach flipped.

“You?” you asked, trying to ignore the way your pulse picked up. “What’s your dating history like?”

Abby shrugged, taking a sip of her wine. “Had a couple serious relationships. Some flings. Nothing really stuck, though. Not because I didn’t want it to, but because I never found someone worth fighting for, you know?”

You nodded, swirling your wine absentmindedly. “Yeah. I get that.”

Abby tilted her head, still watching you. “Think you’re someone worth fighting for?”

The question sent a jolt through you. Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard, but before you could answer, Abby smirked.

“I think you are,” she said, voice smooth, confident.

Your breath hitched.

Abby leaned back, slightly man-spreading on her side of the booth. Still smirking like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Finish your wine,” she said, nodding at your glass. “I’m not done learning about you yet.”

And for the first time in a while, you wanted someone to learn.

The date had flown by. Hours melted away between laughter, lingering glances, and easy conversation that made it impossible to tell when one topic ended and the next began.

Now, the night air was cool against your skin as Abby walked you up to your dorm, hands in her pockets, her usual confidence softened by the lingering warmth of the evening.

“Alright,” she said, leaning casually against your doorframe, smirking. “Be honest—best date you’ve ever had, or best date you’ve ever had?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, so those are my only two options?”

Abby grinned. “Yup, pick wisely.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “Okay, fine. Best date I’ve ever had.”

Abby chuckled, shaking her head as she watched you laugh, a soft grin tugging at her lips. “You know,” she mused, voice lower now, “you looked really good tonight.”

Your laughter faltered slightly, warmth creeping up your neck. “Oh?”

Abby nodded, eyes flickering over you in quiet admiration. “Yeah. I mean, you always do, but… tonight? You’re kinda killing me here.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the way she was looking at you—like you were something worth taking your time with. The space between you felt smaller now, the cool air of the dormitory hallway charged with something heavier, something unspoken.

Neither of you moved at first, but then, almost subconsciously, you both leaned in just slightly, like gravity was pulling you closer—

“Didn’t think you’d actually fall for this shit.”

Your stomach dropped.

Ellie.

You turned just in time to see her strolling down the hallway, hood up, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. Her eyes were red-rimmed, pupils slightly blown—was she high? And worse? She looked pissed.

Abby immediately straightened, her playful expression fading into something unreadable.

Ellie scoffed, looking you over before her gaze flickered to Abby. “This is what we’re doing now? Her?”

Your jaw clenched. “Ellie—”

Oh my god.

But Ellie wasn’t looking at you anymore. She was looking at Abby, lips curling into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. “Damn, man. Didn’t peg you for the type to pick up rebounds.”

Abby’s expression remained cool, but there was something sharp in her eyes now. “Didn’t peg you for the type to throw a fit over your ex moving on.”

Ellie let out a low laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t know shit.”

“Yeah?” Abby challenged, crossing her arms. “I know you’re standing here, high as hell, trying to start shit because you can’t handle the fact that you fucked up and now she doesn’t want you anymore.”

Abby could practically smell the remains of a smoking session off of Ellie.

Ellie’s entire body tensed. “Shut the fuck up.”

Abby didn’t flinch. “Why? Because I’m right?”

Ellie’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “You think she actually wants you? You think she’s gonna stick around? Please.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “She’s too good for you. She’s too good for anyone.”

Abby’s expression flickered, something softer crossing her face before she squared her shoulders. “That’s what you’re mad about, huh?” She took a slow step closer. “You know she deserves better than you. You know it, and now you can’t stand the idea of someone else treating her the way you should have.”

Ellie’s jaw tightened.

“You never even tried to be what she needed,” Abby continued, voice low, unwavering. “And now that she’s with someone who actually wants her, all you can do is stand here and act like a fucking child about it.”

Ellie’s restraint snapped.

She shoved Abby hard, sending her a step back into the doorframe. “Shut the fuck up, Anderson.”

Abby barely stumbled, hands immediately coming up as she glared at Ellie. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Ellie let out a humorless laugh. “What? Gonna fight me?”

Abby exhaled sharply through her nose, muscles tense. “I don’t fight people who are too wasted to think straight.”

Ellie smirked bitterly. “Sounds like an excuse.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “Sounds like you’re pathetic.”

That was it.

Ellie swung first.

It wasn’t a clean hit—she was too high for that—but her fist still clipped Abby’s jaw, sending her a step back.

Before you could even process what happened, Abby lunged forward, grabbing Ellie by the collar of her jacket and shoving her hard against the wall.

“Are you serious right now?” Abby growled, fists clenched in Ellie’s hoodie. “This is what you wanna do?”

Ellie’s lip curled. “Get off me.”

“You are so fucking lucky I don’t knock you out right now,” Abby muttered, shoving Ellie away roughly before stepping back, shaking out her hands like she was trying to calm herself down.

Ellie barely stumbled as Abby shoved her back, but her hands were already curling into fists again. Her heart was pounding, blood roaring in her ears, every inch of her burning with something she couldn’t name—jealousy, anger, regret.

Abby wiped at her jaw, rolling her shoulders like she was ready for more. “you done, yet?” she taunted, voice steady, unbothered.

Ellie snapped.

She threw another punch, aiming for Abby’s face, but this time, Abby dodged, catching Ellie’s wrist before twisting her arm back sharply.

“Fuck—” Ellie hissed, trying to yank herself free.

Abby didn’t let go. “You wanna act tough?” she growled. “Fine. Let’s see how tough you really are.”

Then she shoved Ellie hard, sending her staggering back into the opposite wall.

Ellie gritted her teeth, shoving herself forward, slamming her shoulder into Abby’s ribs, forcing her back against the doorframe. Abby grunted, but before she could recover, Ellie swung again, fist connecting hard with Abby’s cheek.

Abby barely flinched.

Instead, she grabbed Ellie by the collar and threw her to the ground.

“Jesus fuck!” Ellie grunted as she hit the floor, her vision swimming for a moment as she tried to land another punch on Abby’s face.

“Ellie, stop!”

Your voice barely cut through the noise.

Ellie groaned, pushing herself up, blood dripping from a fresh cut on her brow. Abby loomed over her, chest heaving, a dark bruise already blooming across her jaw.

“is this what you wanted?” Abby spat, wiping at her lip, smearing blood across the back of her hand. “You think this makes you better?”

Ellie glared up at her, breathing heavy, fists still clenched. “This is your fucking fault!” she snapped, voice hoarse. “You think you’re some fucking hero, swooping in to save her? You don’t even fucking know her!”

Abby scoffed, rolling her sore shoulder. “Right, because you did such a great job at loving her, huh? If you actually gave a shit, she wouldn’t have needed to move on!”

Ellie’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached. “Fuck you.”

“Stop it!”

Your voice cracked, and suddenly, the rage between them was cut through by something worse.

Humiliation.

Ellie’s chest was still heaving, her body buzzing with adrenaline, but when she turned to look at you—really look at you—she felt something sink deep in her stomach.

You were crying.

Right there, in the middle of the goddamn dorm hallway, your face was twisted in frustration, eyes filled with tears—not just from anger, but from something rawer.

Shame.

“This—” You took a shaky breath, pressing your fingers to your temples. “This whole thing is so fucking embarrassing.”

Abby wiped her bleeding lip, shifting uncomfortably.

Ellie swallowed hard, something sharp catching in her throat.

But the damage was done.

You didn’t say anything else. Didn’t bother to bid Abby goodbye, and definitely didn’t bother to spare another glance at Ellie.

You walked inside your dorm, slamming the door shut behind you.

Ellie wiped at the blood trickling from her brow, glaring up at Abby with nothing but spite. “Look at what you fucking did,” she spat, voice raw. “You made her cry. Nice fucking job, hero.”

Abby scoffed, shaking her head. “Me? You’re the one who started this shit because you couldn’t handle seeing her happy with someone else.” She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair before muttering, “Pathetic.”

Ellie clenched her jaw but didn’t argue. She just let out a bitter laugh, turned on her heel, and stalked off down the hall, shoulders tense, hands shoved deep into her pockets.

Abby stood there for a moment, rolling her aching jaw before turning towards your door.

She hesitated, guilt settling deep in her chest. Then, slowly, she raised a hand and knocked—soft, careful, like she was afraid to make things worse.

“Hey,” she said, voice lower now, more hesitant. “I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but… I’m sorry. I didn’t want tonight to end like this.”

Silence.

Abby sighed, letting her head rest briefly against the doorframe before stepping back. “Just… let me know you’re okay.”

She waited a second longer.

But the door never opened.

Abby sighed, pressing her palm flat against the door for a second before knocking again, softer this time. “Come on,” she murmured. “Just open the door for a second. I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

Abby exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”

Silence, again.

Then, barely above a whisper, she heard you from the other side of the door.

“I’m… I’m sorry about Ellie,” you croaked, voice thick, the wet sound of phlegm caught in your throat. You sniffled, probably rubbing at your already raw eyes. “She shouldn’t have—she was just—” You cut yourself off with a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

Abby’s chest ached. “Hey, don’t—don’t apologize for her, okay?” Her voice was quiet, pleading. “That’s not on you.”

More silence.

Abby exhaled, pressing her forehead against the door. “Please, just open the door.”

A beat.

Then, slowly, she heard the lock click.

When the door cracked open, the sight of you knocked the wind out of her.

Your red, puffy eyes, your runny nose, the way your lips trembled as you finally met her gaze—Abby had been so caught up in the fight, in Ellie, that she hadn’t even realized how much it had all taken out of you.

But then, your eyes darted over her face, and you gasped.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, eyes wide with horror.

Abby blinked, confused for half a second before she remembered—her cheek.

She could feel the swelling now, the way the bruise was already blooming across her skin, hot and tender. The split in her bottom lip still bled, a faint coppery taste lingering in her mouth.

“Shit, Abby,” you choked out, your fingers twitching at your sides, like you wanted to reach for her but didn’t know if you should.

Abby shrugged it off, offering a weak smile. “You should see the other guy.”

You didn’t laugh.

Instead, you swallowed hard, stepping aside.

Abby didn’t hesitate. She walked in, shutting the door behind her, eyes still on you.

“Hey,” she said, voice softer now. “I’m sorry for the fight. I didn’t mean for tonight to go like that.”

You let out a shaky breath, rubbing at your arms like you were trying to hold yourself together.

Abby took a cautious step closer. “I don’t want you to regret tonight, the date.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

So Abby did the only thing she could—she reached out, gently, brushing her fingers over your wrist, grounding you in the moment.

“I got you,” she murmured. “I promise.”

You sniffled, eyes still locked on Abby’s face, your expression shifting from exhaustion to quiet concern. “You should see a doctor,” you murmured, voice hoarse. “Or at least go to the emergency room.”

Abby let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “I’m fine.”

You’re not fine, Abby.” You gestured at her bruised cheek, at the split in her lip that was still bleeding. “You’re literally bleeding.”

Abby shrugged, offering a lopsided smile. “I’ve had worse.”

You stared at her, unimpressed. “That’s not reassuring.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I promise, I’m okay. I just—” Her voice softened. “I didn’t come in to just make you worry about me.”

“it's too late for that,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

Abby watched as you chewed on your lip, debating something in your head before exhaling sharply. “At least let me clean you up,” you said, voice firm. “And put some ice on your face.”

Abby hesitated, but when you looked at her like that—tired, puffy-eyed, but still worrying about her—she couldn’t bring herself to say no.

“Yeah,” she murmured, voice quieter now. “Okay.”

You nodded, turning towards your kitchen to grab some tissues and a water bottle, already shifting into caretaker mode. Abby just watched you move, something tight settling in her chest.

Abby sat on the couch in your dorm’s small living room, legs spread slightly apart, hands resting on her thighs as she let you tend to her. The air between you was quiet, thick with something unspoken, but you didn’t acknowledge it. You just focused on the task at hand.

You crouched slightly in front of her, a damp tissue pressed gently to her bottom lip, wiping away the drying blood with careful, featherlight strokes. Your free hand rested on her cheek, keeping her still as you worked, fingers cool against the warmth of her bruising skin.

Abby exhaled softly, barely noticing the sting from the contact. She wasn’t thinking about the pain anymore.

She was thinking about you.

The way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration, the way your lips parted ever so slightly as you focused. The way you were touching her—gentle, careful, like she wasn’t someone who had just thrown a punch at your sour ex, nearly an hour ago.

Her gaze flickered from your hands to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

And before Abby could stop herself, she leaned in.

Her hand moved instinctively, coming up to cup your right cheek, fingers grazing your skin as she closed the space between you. Her lips met yours—soft, hesitant at first, like she was giving you the chance to pull away.

You froze, the tissue slipping from your fingers, landing soundlessly between the two of you.

For a moment, all you could do was breathe.

Then, slowly, you melted into her.

Your hands slid up, arms wrapping around her neck as you deepened the kiss, pressing closer, tilting your head just enough to match her movements.

Abby inhaled sharply against your lips, her fingers tightening ever so slightly on your cheek before sliding back, threading into your hair.

The tension of the night, the fight, the bruises, the words left unsaid—it all melted away as she kissed you like she had been waiting for this all night.

The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, yet charged with something that neither of you had fully acknowledged before now. Abby’s hand trailed from your cheek down to your jaw, her fingertips grazing the sensitive skin there before sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t stop her. Instead, you shifted forward, pressing into her, your body molding against hers as your fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt. Abby groaned softly against your lips at the way you tugged her closer, her free hand resting against the small of your back, firm but not forceful, like she needed to feel all of you.

Your lips moved in sync, slow and teasing, learning each other in real-time. Abby’s mouth was warm, slightly chapped from the fight, but she kissed you like she had been thinking about it all night. Like she had been holding herself back.

You tilted your head, lips parting slightly, and Abby took the invitation immediately, deepening the kiss as her fingers tightened their grip in your hair. A quiet hum left your throat as she tugged, just enough pressure to make your pulse quicken.

Her thumb traced slow, lazy circles against your hip, and you shivered under her touch. The soft fabric of her shirt was bunched between your fingers, the scent of her skin—faint traces of sweat, expensive cologne, and something undeniably Abby—filling your senses, making your head spin.

Neither of you spoke, the only sound between you two was the soft, wet pull of lips and the occasional sharp breath as you explored, as the distance between you and Abby disappeared.

You had no idea how long you stayed like that, pressed against each other, lost in the heat of it. But when Abby finally pulled back, just slightly, her forehead resting against yours, her breathing uneven, you realized your hands were still gripping her shirt, like you didn’t want to let go.

Abby’s lips were parted, swollen from the kiss, her eyes half-lidded as she looked at you like she wanted more.

“You okay?” she murmured, voice husky, breath warm against your skin.

You nodded, swallowing thickly, trying to catch your breath.

She smiled, thumb tracing along your jaw. “Good.”

Then she leaned in again, her lips brushing against yours, slower this time—deeper, like she had no intention of stopping.

Ellie sat slouched on Dina’s couch, an ice pack pressed against her bruised eye, her jaw tight as she stared at the ceiling. Her leg bounced restlessly, her free hand fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie—anything to keep her from completely losing it.

Dina sat across from her in the armchair, arms crossed, watching her with an unreadable expression. She had let Ellie in without question, had handed her the ice pack and a beer without saying a word, but Ellie could tell her patience was wearing thin.

“So, let me get this straight,” Dina finally said, her voice slow, measured. “You fucked up, you pushed her away, you made it clear you weren’t ready for a real relationship—and now you’re pissed that someone else gave her what you wouldn’t?”

Ellie groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “It sounds so much worse when you say it like that.”

Dina raised a brow. “Oh, I’m so sorry—should I make it sound better?” Voice sarcastic.

Ellie scowled, sinking further into the couch. “It’s not just that,” she muttered. “It’s her.”

“Abby,” Dina clarified flatly.

“Yes, fucking Abby,” Ellie snapped, dropping the ice pack onto her lap. “She just—she swooped in, like it was nothing. Like I didn’t—like we didn’t—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “It’s fucking unfair.”

Dina scoffed. “Unfair?” She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “Ellie, what the fuck did you expect? That she was just gonna sit around waiting for you to maybe pull your head out of your ass?”

Ellie clenched her jaw, eyes burning. “I know it’s my fault, Dina,” she muttered, voice lower now, almost hoarse. “I know I fucked it up. I know I don’t get to be mad about it.” She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “But guess what? I am mad. I’m mad that she moved on so fucking fast. I’m mad that I don’t know how to fix it. I’m mad that I want to fix it, even though I don’t know if I can.”

Dina sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Jesus, Ellie.”

Ellie swallowed hard, eyes glued to the beer bottle in her hands. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, voice quieter now, almost defeated. “I don’t know if she’d even hear me out at this point.”

Dina was quiet for a moment, studying her. Then she exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “I think the real question is—do you actually want her back?”

Ellie froze.

Ellie had no answer for that.

So she just sat there, shoulders hunched, ice pack forgotten, as the weight of it all pressed down on her chest.

Ellie’s knee kept bouncing, the silence stretching between them like a wire pulled too tight. Her fingers picked at the label on her beer bottle, nails scraping against the condensation.

She hated this, hated feeling this fucking exposed.

“I don’t know,” she finally muttered, barely above a whisper.

Dina narrowed her eyes. “What?”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like she wasn’t completely unraveling inside. “I don’t know,” she repeated, voice barely louder than before.

Dina leaned forward, her expression hardening. “No, no—actually say it, Ellie. Really say it, for once in your fucking life, stop acting stupid and just say it.”

Ellie swallowed, her throat dry, her pulse hammering.

“I—” She hesitated, her voice catching in her throat. “I think I do, want her back, I mean.”

Dina’s stare was unwavering. “You think?”

Ellie exhaled sharply, rubbing at her face, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. “Yes, Dina. Yes, okay? I want her back.”

Dina sat back slightly, studying her, like she was waiting to see if Ellie was actually serious this time.

Ellie’s chest felt tight. She dropped her hands, her fingers twitching against her jeans. “But,” she added quickly, voice smaller now, “I don’t know if I deserve to.”

And fuck—there it was. The ugly, real truth of it.

Dina’s face softened just slightly, but she didn’t let up. “Then what the fuck are you gonna do about it?”

Ellie didn’t have an answer for that.

Because deep down, she knew just wanting you back wasn’t enough.

Dina let out a slow, measured breath, pinching the bridge of her nose like she was trying so hard to be patient. But Ellie knew that patience was running real fucking thin.

“Okay,” Dina said, her voice low, controlled. “So you want her back, but you don’t think you deserve to. Does that about sum it up?”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, picking at the label on her beer bottle again. “Yeah,” she muttered.

Dina slapped a hand against the coffee table, making Ellie flinch. “Then what the fuck are you gonna do about it?”

Ellie’s mouth opened, then shut.

Dina scoffed. “That’s what I thought.” She shook her head, sitting back, arms crossing over her chest. “Jesus, Ellie. You don’t get to sit here and sulk like some heartbroken little kid when you literally just told me you fucked up her date by fighting Abby outside her dorm while you were fucking high.”

Ellie winced. “Yeah,” she muttered, voice lower now.

“Yeah?” Dina snapped. “That’s all you have to say?”

Ellie stayed quiet, her face burning.

Dina let out a laugh. “You know, for someone who acts all tough and ready to fight at a moment’s notice, you are such a coward when it comes to real shit.”

Ellie scowled. “Fuck off, Dina.”

“No, I won’t,” Dina shot back. “Because I actually give a shit about you, even though you make it really fucking hard sometimes.”

Ellie exhaled sharply through her nose, gripping the beer bottle tighter.

"You want her back?” Dina pressed. “Then fucking fight for her, but not like some jealous asshole by swinging your fists because you can’t handle seeing her happy without you. Fight for her the right way. Or don’t, and actually let her move on instead of fucking up her life from a distance because you’re too much of a mess to deal with your own feelings.”

Ellie’s throat felt tight.

Dina softened—only slightly. “But you can’t just sit here and do nothing, Ellie. You owe her more than that.”

Ellie clenched her jaw, staring at the floor.

Dina exhaled, watching her for a moment longer before standing up, grabbing Ellie’s now-forgotten beer bottle off the table. “Figure your shit out,” she said quietly, walking towards the kitchen. “Before it’s too late, Ellie.”

And just like that, the pressure was off.

Or on?

© 𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 ─ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙. 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙨.

author's note: i'd let abby manhandle me 🫦rrr.... did u also catch Abby's 'worth fighting for' moment🤭

TAGLIST: @liasxeatt @vahnilla @sleepingwasp @morticeras @violetszn @eriiwaii @elliesactualgirlfriend @mikellie @lovely-wisteria @idletyouruinme

COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST!!

[stargazsblog]

what happens in vegas | ch.2 the deal

satoru gojo x fem!reader

୨ৎ after a messy breakup, you go to vegas with your best friend, shoko, to forget about everything. a night of partying and drinking, you wake up in a hotel room with a stranger in your bed and a ring on your finger, with zero idea what happened. that stranger? satoru gojo-some guy you barely know. turns out, you two might've gotten married. now you've got to figure out what to do with this mess.

୨ৎ warning/tags: fluff, romance, jealousy, no smut (im sorry), sexual references, some angst, use of alcohol, inspired by what happens in vegas.

note: this chapter is short i’m sorry!

masterlist

“Why not just get a divorce?“ Suguru said, adjusting his sleeves as they strolled toward the breakfast area. “What’s stopping you?”

Satoru sighed, rolling his shoulders. “It’s complicated.”

"Complicated how? You sign some papers, pay her off, and boom—freedom," Toji said, making a dramatic exploding gesture with his hands.

“If Sukuna were here, he’d be laughing his ass off,” Suguru added. “He’d say marriage is just an overpriced contract.”

Toji smirked, shaking his head. “He’s back home with his new girlfriend.”

“New?” Suguru raised a brow. “Let me guess—he got bored? Now that I think about it, we never even met his ex.”

“We didn’t,” Toji confirmed. “Which is weird, considering how long they were together. What was it—three years?”

Suguru let out a low whistle. “Three years? And we never met her? That’s a first. Didn’t think Sukuna was capable of long-term relationships.”

Satoru hummed. “Maybe she wasn’t like the others.”

“Or maybe she just didn’t want to be around us,” Toji smirked. “Smart girl.”

They all chuckled, but Satoru’s mind had already shifted back to his current situation.

His family had been on his ass about settling down for years, sending one woman after another in front of him like he was some kind of prize. It was getting old.

This accidental marriage? It’s the perfect excuse to make them stop. As long as he’s married, they won’t keep pushing him to settle down. But if he gets a divorce, they’ll just start the whole thing over again.

Satoru bit his lip, turning the thought over in his head. Then, slowly, a smirk crept onto his face.

“Maybe this is a good idea,” he said, voice light, almost amused. “I mean, my parents have been bothering me about getting married forever.”

Toji narrowed his eyes. “So, what? You’re gonna trick her into staying married just to shut your parents up?”

Satoru shrugged. “Trick is a strong word.”

Toji scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”

Suguru, meanwhile, just snorted, shaking his head. “Honestly? That might be the dumbest yet smartest thing you’ve ever done.”

Satoru grinned. “That’s my specialty.”

Toji ran a hand down his face. “This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Maybe. But at least my parents will leave me alone.”

“Yeah? And what about her?” Suguru asked, tilting his head. “Think she’s just gonna roll with this?”

Satoru opened his mouth, but his eyes flickered across the breakfast area—and there you were. Sitting at a table with Shoko, leaning forward as she whispered something.

Satoru’s smirk deepened, his tone dripping with amusement. “She’ll come around.”

Toji followed his gaze and let out a short laugh. “This I gotta see.”

After the morning disaster, you couldn’t stand being in Satoru's room for another second. You found Shoko in the hotel room you guys shared, pacing back and forth like she’d just run a marathon.

You both were freaking out about what happened last night, still trying to process it. Now, here you were, sitting down in the breakfast area, trying to distract yourselves with food.

“I think you guys look kinda cute in this photo. Look!” Shoko said, talking with her mouth full as she shoved her phone in your face.

You groaned, already regretting it. On the screen was a picture of you and Satoru at the altar in Vegas, kissing. Your hair was a mess, your makeup was ruined. In the background, Shoko was crying while holding a half-empty champagne bottle.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, covering your face. “We look terrible.”

Shoko snorted. “Nah, just two people deeply in love… with alcohol.”

“Stop talking with your mouth full, it’s gross,” you said, cringing.

“Gross? Says the girl who made out with Satoru in front of an Elvis impersonator.”

You groaned louder, slumping back into your chair. This was a disaster. A complete disaster. You had just gotten out of a breakup, and now you were married. What were you even supposed to say to your parents? To anyone when you got back home?

“Besides,” Shoko said, licking syrup off her fork, “didn’t you say his room was bigger than ours? That means he’s crazy rich. And since you guys are married, that’s basically your money now.”

You shot her a glare. “I’m not taking his money, Shoko.”

She shrugged, popping another bite of pancake into her mouth. “Suit yourself. But if I were you, I’d at least get a designer bag out of it.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “This is such a mess. I can’t believe I’m married to him. I don’t even know how to tell anyone back home. How do you explain this?”

Shoko let out a bitter laugh, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Yeah, good luck with that one. ‘So, Mom, I got married in Vegas… to a guy I didn’t even know.’ Perfect story for the family, right?”

You looked up, rolling your eyes. “Really helpful, Shoko.”

She shrugged, still poking at her food. “Hey, I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”

“I mean, we could just get a divorce, right?” you said, letting the words slip out before you really thought about it. “We don’t know each other, so we can just act like strangers and pretend like we never got married?”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Divorce? You know that’s not how it works, right? It’s not just a quick fix.”

You leaned back in your chair, still feeling the weight of everything. “I know, but… I don’t know how else to fix this. It’s not like we even know each other.”

The room fell into an awkward silence. You poked at your food, your mind wandering to the mess you’d found yourself in. You couldn’t stop thinking about Sukuna. Would he get mad? Upset? You immediately pushed the thought away. He cheated on you. You shouldn’t care what he thinks anymore.

Suddenly, Shoko gasped, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh shit,” she murmured under her breath.

You looked up, confused. “What? What is it?”

Shoko’s eyes flicked behind you. “Look.”

You slowly turned your head, following her gaze. And then you saw them—Satoru and his two friends walking toward your table.

Your heart skipped a beat. Of course, Satoru had to show up now. And of course, his friends—those annoyingly charming guys—were with him. Great.

You slumped in your seat, trying to act casual, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you.

Satoru finally reached your table, his eyes immediately locking with yours as that cocky grin never faded. “Well, well,” he said, sliding into the chair next to you with too much ease, “look at you, Mrs. Gojo. Still looking as stunning as ever.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He was so cocky for someone who just got married to a stranger. “Really? Is that really what you’re going to say to me?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair like he hadn’t just put you in an impossible situation. “I mean, it’s true, isn’t it? Can’t blame me for appreciating the view.”

You felt your annoyance grow, but you kept your cool, forcing yourself not to snap at him. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?”

Before Satoru could respond, he casually motioned to the two guys who had just slid into the chairs across from you. “Anyway, let me introduce you to my friends,” he said. “This is Toji,” he pointed to the guy who looked intimidating, Toji was muscular, with short-cropped hair.

Then Satoru gestured to the quieter figure beside him. “And this is Suguru,” he said, his tone dropping slightly. Suguru was a tall guy with dark, calm eyes and dark hair that partially fell over his forehead. He gave you a polite nod, a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Shoko had mentioned she’d slept with a guy named Suguru. And considering Satoru had casually mentioned one of his friends might’ve kept her company, you assumed it was Suguru. You glanced at Shoko, your eyes asking without words. She gave you a quick nod, confirming your suspicions without uttering a word.

Toji stretched, glancing at you like it was the most normal thing in the world. “So, you’re the one who got stuck with Satoru, huh?” His voice was low and smooth. Toji’s tone made it clear he was enjoying the chaos of the situation.

“Seems like a real… interesting morning,” Suguru remarked, clearly trying to keep the mood light.

Shoko looked over at you, her eyebrows raised as she gave you a silent look that said it all—I can’t believe this is happening either. She shifted in her seat, glancing at the three men now surrounding you, clearly trying to keep it together. You could tell she was doing her best not to laugh at how ridiculously uncomfortable this all felt.

The silence stretched on, and you could feel your frustration growing. Satoru, of course, was still too casual about everything, but it wasn’t helping that the tension.

Finally, Shoko, the good friend that she is, broke the silence. “So… how long are you guys staying in Vegas for?” she asked, her voice light and trying to ease the situation.

Suguru, looking almost bored, replied, “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Shoko echoed, her tone upbeat as if she was trying to keep the conversation going. “Well, we’re leaving tomorrow morning too. What a coincidence. Where do you guys live?”

“Tokyo,” Suguru said, barely sparing her a glance. There was an awkward tension in his voice, and it was clear there was something unsaid between him and the others, but no one was talking about it.

Your eyes widened at his response. Tokyo? That’s where you lived. You were married to a complete stranger, and now you found out that he lived in the same city as you? The irony hit you hard, and it was like the universe was mocking you.

You couldn’t help but lean back in your chair, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Great,” you muttered, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Just great.”

You were still trying to process everything when you felt a light poke on your arm.

You turned your head slightly, already knowing who it was.

Satoru.

He was leaning toward you with that same lazy grin on his face, blue eyes sparkling like this was all just one big joke.

“Why are you ignoring your husband?” he asked, tilting his head with mock innocence.

You stared at him blankly. Of course he’d say that. Of course he was acting like this was no big deal. You swore he was like a little boy who couldn’t stand not being the center of attention.

“I don’t know,” you said flatly, turning back to your barely touched plate. “Maybe because I don’t remember agreeing to be anyone’s wife.”

Satoru placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “Ouch. That one actually hurt a little.”

You took a deep breath and turned to him. “Can we talk?” you asked, your voice low but firm. “Alone. Please.”

His playful grin didn’t falter, but you could see the slight shift in his expression as he stood up. “Oh? My wife wants a private chat. I’m down.”

You didn’t even grace him with a response, just walked ahead toward a quieter corner of the lobby.

Somewhere away from Shoko’s amused glances and his friends’ nosy stares. Once you both stopped near an empty hallway by the elevators, you turned around, arms crossed tightly.

“I want a divorce.”

Satoru raised his brows like you’d just told him you hated puppies. “You’re breaking up with me already?” he said. “We’ve had such a long and beautiful marriage. How could you throw it all away?”

You rolled your eyes hard enough to see the back of your head. “Don’t act like this is some tragic love story. We got drunk. We got married. And now we’re going to undo it.”

He shrugged lazily. “I mean… sure, we could get a divorce. But that sounds so… boring.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What does that mean?”

Satoru leaned against the wall like he had all the time in the world. “What if we didn’t? Just for a little while?”

You stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “What?”

He pushed his hands into his pockets. “Look, my family’s been trying to marry me off for years. But if I tell them I’m already married? They’ll back off.”

You blinked. “So… you want me to just stay married to you so your parents leave you alone?”

Satoru grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself way too much for someone in a situation this ridiculous.

“Look, all you have to do is come live with me for a while,” he said, like he was offering you a vacation package instead of a life-altering decision. “We can sleep in separate rooms, act like a happily married couple for a few days—or weeks, maybe even months. Who knows, maybe even forever if you really want.” He winked.

You stared at him, deadpan. “You’re insane.”

“Probably,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m also charming. And think about it—what’s worse? A fake marriage or dealing with the paperwork and lawyers and whatever hell a Vegas divorce requires?”

You crossed your arms, still trying to wrap your head around it. “And what do I get out of this, huh?”

He leaned in, that cocky sparkle in his eyes never fading. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Name it.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Okay, I want to fly on a private jet to Hawaii, reserve the entire beach just for us, and stay in a mansion with a private chef who only cooks five-star meals.”

It was obviously a joke. Your tone was dripping with sarcasm, and you gave him a look that said get real.

“Deal,” Satoru said without missing a beat, already pulling out his phone.

You blinked at him. “Wait—what are you doing?”

He shrugged casually. “Booking our honeymoon.”

You squinted at him. “Satoru—”

He puts his phone back in his pocket, letting out a small laugh. “Relax, I know you’re kidding. I’m not clueless.”

You let out a sigh, that does sound fun, but doing all that with him sounds like hell. You bit your lip, trying to think if this was a good idea. Just act like a happy married couple, right? How hard can it be? It’ll only be for a couple of weeks, maybe months.

“Okay,” you mutter, feeling like you’re already selling your soul. “Fine, you’re gonna pay for my rent for six months.” Since you won’t be home for a while, might as well let him cover your rent.

His grin widened, that cocky gleam never leaving his eyes. “Done. Anything else? Designer wardrobe? Private chef? I’ve got options.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Are you serious? You think I want all that?”

Satoru shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just saying, I’m prepared for any request. You want the stars? I can get them for you.”

“Look, I’m not asking for a whole damn mansion or anything.” You shook your head, almost feeling like you were playing a game you didn’t agree to, but here you were. “Six months of rent is enough. We’re pretending to be married, not living in a fairy tale.”

“Fair enough,” Satoru said with a sly wink. “But if you change your mind about that private jet, just let me know.”

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to snap at him. You couldn’t deal with this right now. As much as it felt like an impossible situation, it also seemed like the best option. A little fake happiness in exchange for your freedom. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

You exhaled, eyes narrowing as you pointed a finger at him. “Just know—after all of this? You’re signing those divorce papers. No running. No cute speeches. Just your name and a signature.”

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, that playful glint never leaving his eyes. “Fine by me.” He leaned in just a bit, smirking. “Now that we’re all settled… can I get a kiss?”

You scoffed, walking away from him. “You can get lost.”

He chuckled behind you, voice smooth as ever. “So that’s a maybe?”

You rolled your eyes, already regretting every decision that led to this moment.

Satoru Gojo, the guy you married drunk in Vegas, asked you to fake a marriage with him.

What kind of rom-com nightmare had you just walked into?

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[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

may the odds be ever in your favor - itoshi rin

fem!reader

“and the male tribute of district 12 is…”

you watched with bated breath, wiping your hands on your flowy skirt once more. you were wearing your best clothes for reaping day; something you never understood. why would you dress nicely to be delivered to your death? the seam was never known for it's incredible clothing nor hygiene after all.

“itoshi rin!”

your heart dropped.

rin was your best friend; you've known him ever since you were both still only 4 years old, and you were both 17. rin had put his name in for an extra amount of times in the reaping for tesserae. last year was his older brother's sae last year to be picked for the hunger games, and luckily, sae managed to not be picked once by the reaping ceremony.

rin wasn't so lucky.

you watched as rin stalked up the stairs, hands trembling. you watched as he stood next to the escort for district 12, anri teieri. “and now for the ladies!” she said cheerfully; too cheerfully, one might've added. sticking her hand into the bowl of young girls, she picked out a name and slipped it open.

“(y/n) (l/n)!”

your stomach lurched, and you slowly stepped towards the stage, tears wetting your lashes. you stood in front of rin, his eyes widening a fraction as he mouthed your name. “now, may the tributes shake hands!” both at both of your stiffness, anri took both of your right hands and clasped them together, forcefully shaking them.

“and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

you didn’t have any time to meet with your family members one last time, as you were both shoved onto the train to the capitol.

you, rin, and anri both sat around a round glass table. your supposed mentor, julian loki, sat a few feet away from you and rin; as a normal capitol citizen should. there were no previous district 12 winners, so therefore, a student of the academy there would be your mentor.

“now, for the both of you…” loki began, inspecting both of your faces. “you’ve both got good faces. i can imagine many of the capitol citizens would bet on you because of looks alone; especially you, rin. but what about your combat skills? and charisma?”

this whole train ride, you’ve been silent, but finally, you spoke up. “rin’s strong and fast. he’s good at kicking and he’s got good eyes.” you spoke your words like rapid fire but shutting up, rin’s eyes darting to you.

“(y/n)’s funny and likable. she’s good at hiding and good with nature.” rin replied right back. for a moment, you both just stared at one another in silence. finally, loki cleared his throat.

“that’s good. and im considering you both know each other well?” loki asked, taking a sip of his whiskey. you nodded hesitantly.

“yeah. we…we’ve known each other for a while.”

“then you can both be allies for the games.” loki said, taking out a golden pen and notebook, scribbling something inside. “president ego particularly enjoys this sort of stuff, although im not sure what head gamemaker chris prince will say about two people from district 12 allying up…but what can he do?”

anri nodded. “well, eat up. you guys will need to put on some weight to maximize energy. we’ll probably be arriving at the capitol at 9 AM tomorrow.”

a few silver platters were placed on the table, and both your eyes and rin’s went wide as circles when you saw just the amount of luxurious food there was in front of you. there was never this much food in district 12, especially not food that smelled so heavenly.

forgetting about the hunger games for a moment, you stuffed as much as you could in your mouth, uncaring about what food it was. all you could think about was how delicious the food was, and how different it was from the food at district 12. rin dug in as well, his cheeks round like chipmunks as he ate.

loki and anri looked at each other before shrugging. well, this might be one of your last meals after all.

—

you only remembered the names of the tributes might be threats to you and rin.

district one. isagi yoichi.

district two. mikage reo.

dissect three. karasu tabito.

district four. barou shoei.

district five. nagi seishiro.

district six. otoya eita.

district seven. karasu tabito.

district eight. bachira meguru.

district nine. yukimiya kenyu.

district ten. chigiri hyoma and his sister koyuki hyoma.

district eleven. kunigami rensuke.

one week later, you stepped foot into the arena, inhaling deeply to calm your nerves. you are rin both glanced at each other before you gave him a small nod.

5…4…3…2…1.

you and rin both bolted away from the cornucopia, not wanting to engage in a bloodbath. there was a forest a few hundred yards from the cornucopia, and you and rin had both met each other there. sitting down from exhaustion, you glanced at him. “i wonder how many of them just died from the cornucopia alone.”

“i don’t think purple made it out alive. the one from district two? i heard him scream.” rin muttered. “although the hassle guy from district five might’ve saved them; they were close during the training.”

“well, out least we made it out of the first most deadly five minutes of the games alive: the bloodbath.” you grinned. he raised an eyebrow at you.

“that’s not something to cheer about. the people who survive the bloodbath are the most deadly, meaning that the most deadly people are still alive.” rin mumbled. “let’s go find some water. it’s the most important thing to find on the first day.”

you nodded, standing up and following him.

—

it was supposed to just be a search for some berries.

but isagi was atop you, dagger plunged into your stomach, scarlet oozing out of your mouth and stomach. Isagi bit down on his lip, swallowing. tears stained his cheeks as he panted, gripping the handle of the dagger. “im sorry, (y/n), but i had to.” he whispered.

you knew isagi wasn’t an ally, not when he was probably the most dangerous tribute aside from rin, receiving a training score of 11 along with rin. but he always treated you politely, even having wished you good luck before the game started.

“rin!” you screamed, your voice shrill. “rin! where are you, rin?!” tears leaked from your eyes. you wanted to at least see him one last time before you died. isagi sighed before he stood up and walked away and vanished into the forest.

right as isagi left, you finally saw the familiar eyes of sea glass. “(y/n)?” rin asked weakly, before he sprinted over and kneeled down next to you. “(y/n)!” he hollered, tears at his eyes.

“nonononono— no, you’re okay—!” he whimpered, plunging the dagger out before ripping off his jacket and wrapping it around your stomach. you whined from the pain. “you’ll live, you’ll live—“ rin muttered.

“r-rin…”

“stop it. stop talking. you’ll be okay.”

“rin, i…” with the little remaining strength you had, you gripped his hand. your eyes softened as he pressed on your wound, attempting to stop the bleeding.

“i wish we could have lived a normal life together. i wished we could have joked around more often. i wish we could have spent longer together. i wish we could’ve gotten married and had kids and sang together more often with the Covey. i wish we could go into the illegal wired area of district 12 that we were always too scared to go into. i wish we could have gotten that thing called ice cream that the people from districts 1 and 2 and the capitol always have.”

“(y/n)—“

“rin, i love you.”

silence followed, and for a few moments, everything was ghostly silent. it began to rain, the gamemakers way of mocking him, and finally, rin broke.

most of the tributes weren’t there to witness your skin growing cold or your eyes going dark, and yet the dreadful scream that itoshi rin let out at that moment alerted everything that his beloved (y/n) had died.

he cradled you in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “no, please, don’t leave me. please, don’t go.”

if only you could have responded.

—

isagi and rin were the only tributes left.

both of their knives at each other’s neck, they were both practically already half dead. “prince! they’re both going to die at this point, and this year will end with no victor!” a gamemaker, agi, exclaimed. chris prince hummed for a moment before typing something into his floating keyboard.

“let’s end it here. it’ll be entertaining for two people to have won the games this year and one of them having killed the other’s lover.” prince said. he tapped a button, allowing him to speak to isagi and rin.

“attention! isagi yoichi of district 1 and itoshi rin of district 12 are the victors of the 32th hunger games!”

they both looked up, wide eyed and bloody. a helicopter flew over them, letting down a ladder. they both climbed aboard the ship and were instantly transferred to medical support.

rin had 7 stabs on both of his legs, 3 stabs of his right arm, and one stab on his stomach. isagi had 5 stabs all over his torso and 9 stabs on his limbs in total, although he had received a severe head injury from a large rock being thrown at his head from barou as a last attempt to kill isagi before barou died.

itoshi rin didn’t make it.

—

in 2006, japan, kanagawa prefecture, you saw itoshi rin at an ice cream store for the first time when you were four.

a/n: in honor of the new hunger games book coming out🥹 if you guys didn’t know i love the hunger games, it’s my fav book series of all time; i’ve always been a peeta girl btw

[honey-on-your-tongue]

FWB

Part one

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Series masterlist

You first met Logan when he showed up at the X mansion, angry and distant and cold. You shrugged it off, every mutant had their own story and you respected that.

You could tell he was afraid to open up at first, particularly around you because you were always so curious about his ability. It fascinated you that he could heal just like that.

You could mend tissue or tear it apart on your body or anyone else's, and it took an extraordinary amount of energy. His body did it automatically and in a matter of seconds.

He didn't appreciate your enthusiasm. But eventually, you two warmed up to one another. And you might've even considered each other friends.

It started because...well...Logan is a complicated man. Very complicated. He's very picky about who he lets get close to him, and even then he remains reserved.

But Jean had been in his heart since day one. You never knew why, he refused to talk about her to anyone.

And then she died. And then she wasn't dead. And then he had to kill her.

He wasn't okay for a long while. He didn't even hit on every pretty woman he saw, as was usual.

And one day he just...snapped.

-

Logan's pent up. Jean's death is a weight on his shoulders he can't shake. And because of that, he can't focus. So he isn't working well, he isn't functioning. So his solution is to jack off, let go of some steam. But it doesn't work. He can't come on his own, no matter how hard he tries. No matter what porn he watches.

Then this one time, this funny thing happened? He was jerking off in his room—trying to, at least—and he heard your voice. You were walking down the hall, talking to someone.

“...so good,” you were saying, probably to a student about how they'd done in an exam.

For some reason, he imagined you on all fours on the bed, back arched, hands holding onto the bed sheets for life as he pounded you from behind.

He could imagine your voice crying out, “So good! So good!”

And suddenly—

His cock twitched, a groan left his lips and before he knew what was happening, he was coming all over himself. Thick spurts of his load spilled onto his hand, dripped down his cock, sticky and warm.

He gasped for breath, unable to understand what had just happened. So quick, so easy. And all because he just imagined you...

He shakes his head. That's wrong. You're his friend. You two work together and he doesn't wanna fuck that up.

So he pushes the thought away and pretends it never happened.

But later that day, when he runs into you in the kitchen, he's embarrassed, ashamed, maybe even a little guilty. You don't seem to notice as you just greet him and go about whatever you were doing.

He can't keep his eyes off you, can't look away. And the next thing he knows, you're bending over to grab a plate from one of the lower kitchen drawers and his cock springs to attention.

He clenches his jaw as he feels himself hardening, his mind already conjuring up images of you bent over his bed, that pretty ass of yours bouncing as he fucks you from behind. Your pussy all wet and spread out for him. Your hands grabbing onto the bed sheets like your life depends on it...

“Lo?” you ask, and he's snapped out of his thoughts.

“Hm?” he grunts, trying as discreetly as he can to take a step towards the counter and hide his growing erection from you.

“I asked if you want anything? I'm gonna go to the store, buy some ice cream for some of the kids.”

A few condoms and lube would work, he thinks to himself. Before remembering you can hear other people's thoughts when it's something they mean to say but don't.

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh. Um. Okay.” You nod, pretty cheeks blushing slightly. “I'll...Yeah. Alright. Any...particular ones?”

He feels like crawling into a hole and dying, but it's too late now. “No,” he replies, shaking his head. “Just...I need some extra large ones, though.”

Your blush deepens and you glance away, clearing your throat. “Right. Okay. I'll...be back soon.”

He nods curtly and watches you walk away. Once you're out of sight, he grabs his head in his hands.

“Fuckin' idiot,” he murmurs, his appetite lost, and he turns around to go back to his room.

The thing is, his cock is still hard and it's getting extremely uncomfortable. And he's leaking precum onto his pants.

He groans as he closes the door, in too much of a hurry as he kicks his pants off, his cock hard, the tip a dark red.

He lays down on his bed, spits on his hand. He fists his cock and jerks it a few times slowly, before closing his eyes and imagining some girl's pussy.

But it doesn't work. Fuck, it doesn't work. He thinks of all the random women he's fucked, all his hookups, and nothing. Absolutely nothing. His cock is still hard, his hand is getting tired.

And then you pop into his head. Cute eyes, soft lips, that gorgeous body.

He knows it's wrong, but he just can't help it. So, he jerks off to the thought of you. Those pretty lips around his cock, your hands holding onto his arms as he fucks you hard. Your face all scrunched up in pleasure...

He doesn't realize he's moaning your name, gasping and groaning like a fucking dog until the door swings open.

“You called? I was just about to leave—”

His eyes snap open, his hand on his cock freezes. He glances at the door and meets your gaze just before your eyes fall on his cock.

“Oh,” you say, voice trembling a little. “'m sorry, I...I thought...I could've sworn you said my name—I mean, I thought you were calling me...”

“I was,” he says stupidly, breathless, too stunned to even cover himself up.

You swallow thickly, eyes darting nervously around the room. When your gaze meets his, he thinks, for what it's worth, I was thinking of you.

Your eyes widen and you blush even more, a strangled, nervous sound leaving your mouth. “I-I gotta go to the store. The kids are waiting for their ice cream. Um...Bye,” you stutter out and leave, shutting the door after yourself.

He lays back on his bed, covering his face with one hand. “Fuck,” he groans. Now he's going to have to talk to you and that can't possibly end well.

---

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[devilish-cherry]

ok ok hear me out on weirdo bf choso who silently and stealthily leaves strange offerings for the reader that are supposed to be gifts but unintentionally come off as extremely creepy...

the reader mentions missing lunch everyday between classes/work? a suspicious-looking homemade bento appears in her fridge, with little faces in the food that look more creepy than cute. the reader mentions she accidentally shrunk her clothes in the wash? a bag of new clothes in her size is left on her desk. the reader mentions she needs new kitchen knives? a full set suddenly appears in her kitchen, shiny and sharp and terrifying. no note, no words, no sign of who might've brought the gifts or why.

reader thinks she has a stalker but really it's just her bf not understanding the concept of communicating before gifting things to people. choso's like a cat that brings their owner a dead mouse to show affection. i can't stop thinking about this. do you see the vision

STOP. STOP RIGHT THERE. BECAUSE I SEE THE VISION. I SEE IT SO CLEARLY IN 4K HD ULTRA RESOLUTION. I AM STARING DIRECTLY INTO THE VISION WITH TEARS IN MY EYES.

this is SO choso-coded it’s insane. this is exactly the kind of behavior choso would exhibit because he has absolutely no idea how normal human interactions work, and honestly? good for him. he’s just out here expressing his love in the most cryptic, unsettling ways possible. he knows he’s supposed to provide, he knows he’s supposed to take care of you, but no one ever told him he had to explain himself while doing it. why would he do that. he’s literally giving you what you need??

the bento?? horrifying. imagine opening your fridge and just seeing a homemade meal staring back at you. the little rice ball faces are not cute. they are uncanny. they are haunting. and the worst part is, you have no idea who put it there. is it poisoned? is it cursed? you don’t know.

the clothes??? imagine you shrunk your favorite sweater in the wash, only to come home and find a bag of new clothes, in your exact size, sitting on your desk. no note. no explanation. no evidence of entry. you are losing your mind. there is no reasonable explanation. how did this person know your size? are they watching you?? are they in your walls??? meanwhile, choso is just happily existing thinking he’s done the most thoughtful thing in the world. you start sleeping with one eye open.

THE KNIVES. imagine coming home from work, already exhausted, only to flick on the lights and see an entire shiny, pristine, borderline combat-ready knife set on your counter. no receipt. no note. just gleaming steel staring back at you. you straight up think you’re about to be murdered. you start considering witness protection.

this man is so lucky he’s cute because he is out here actively accidentally convincing you that you have a deranged stalker when in reality, it’s just him being the most socially oblivious yet well-intentioned boyfriend of all time. you start thinking you have a stalker. you are TERRIFIED. you bring it up to choso, all shaken up, like "omg someone has been breaking into my home and leaving things for me i think they're dangerous” and choso just. blinks. tilts his head. furrows his brows like a confused cat and is like:

"…you do not like the gifts?"

and that’s the moment it clicks. everything. the bento. the clothes. the knives. it was him. the whole time. in his mind, this is all deeply romantic.

and now you have to explain to your very sweet but extremely socially inept boyfriend that you appreciate the thought, really, but leaving unsolicited gifts in complete silence like some kind of eldritch sugar daddy is deeply alarming behavior.

i am OBSESSED with this concept. i am in love with your brain. i will never stop thinking about this. you have permanently activated my choso brainrot and now it will never shut off. thank you for this blessing misty, you are doing the lord’s work for the choso nation. 🙏

[redvelvetthief]

Kaz keeps asking Inej "what would you like?" "What do you want?" "Can I get you anything?" It's strange, and she doesn't understand it. She always says that she doesn't want anything, that she's pleased with what she has.

Kaz has always given Inej little gifts here and there - her first knife, silk ties for her hair, the occasional hot chocolate when the weather grows cold. But lately, he's been especially insistent on trying to give bigger gifts. More expensive gifts. She finds them every time she comes back to Kerch after months at sea - a brand new silver knife set, authentic Suli silks, sometimes he even resorts to leaving her stacks of kruge. He asks her if she wants something specific from time to time but she always says no.

Inej thinks it's nice at first, albeit strange, but after the third time that she finds an "allowance" left in an envelope on her bed, she starts to get angry. That anger grows after talking with Nina about it. Nina further emphasizes how offensive it is that Kaz thinks he can just buy Inej's affection through silly gifts. How could he possibly think it would be a good idea to get her Suli silks considering she was forced to wear cheap knock-offs of them at the Menagerie? Even Jesper is confused by it, asking what Inej might've done recently that would cause this increase in generosity from Kaz. He tries to joke with her and says he probably gives gifts like this all the time but that just serves to make Inej feel upset and hurt. She starts ignoring Kaz and lashing out at him, so he stops. He stops the gifts altogether. But with that, he grows distant from her. Cold. Like how he was before their trip to the ice court.

But then, she talks to Wylan. And Wylan can't help but laugh.

He explains that Kaz is showing Inej that he cares and loves her in the only way he knows how. That this is the Kerch way. Gift-giving.

He explains that Ravkan people tend to show affection through words of affirmation, considering their intense connection to literature, history, and story-telling. Meanwhile, Fjerdans express their love through quality time because of their deeply communal and duty-driven society. The Zemeni provide acts of service with their strong emphasis on hospitality and helping others. Suli culture values movement, presence, and closeness, making physical touch a natural expression of love.

But the Kerch? The Kerch show affection through gift-giving. The more thoughtful the gift, the greater the love. And every time Kaz asks Inej "what would you like?" and she says "nothing" it makes him feel useless, like he can't show her how he truly feels about her. Wylan explains that only makes sense that Inej would be upset about the gestures. Considering the Suli's nomadic and down-to-earth lifestyle, they tend to reject most material items, only choosing to carry the essentials with them.

Inej is speechless by the end of Wylan's explanation. All this time, and she never realized that she was practically telling Kaz to not care about her. To not love her. But it'll be fine. She knows exactly how to fix this. Rushing out of the Van Eck mansion, she stops at the most luxurious leather shop in all of Ketterdam, and she picks out a pair of beautiful, hand-crafted leather gloves. They cost a fortune but it's nothing she can't spare for him - the one who strives to give her everything.

When she presents the gift to him, Kaz barely reacts, and she fears that the misunderstanding may be far worse than she thought. But when Kaz slips the gloves on his hands, flexing his fingers with the barest hint of a smile on his face, and he softly says, "thank you," Inej knows everything will be fine. Needless to say, Inej never rejects a single gift from Kaz.

[sturniqlo]

TRY AGAIN- CHRIS STURN

summary: Chris goes to Y/n's apartment without her knowledge to try and win her back

cw: angst, cursing, slight fluff

masterlist | read part 1 here

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It's been six months since Y/n broke up with Chris. She's hung out with both Matt and Nick here and there and it always seems like nothing has changed. A lot has happened over the past six months. She stayed with her best friend for the first month while she tried to recover from everything, and find the perfect apartment for herself.

At the end of the first month, she signed the lease.

Her new apartment is perfect. It has open living room with easy access to the kitchen. She loved that her apartment had many windows letting the natural sunlight come in. Her bedroom was something she loved. Back at the triplets house, she couldn't decorate her bedroom the way she wanted to. Considering the fact she had to take in Chris' interests into consideration.

Over this period of time, she missed Chris although she tried to deny her thoughts, she couldn't. When she was unpacking her car (she had left mostly everything in there until she found an apartment) she had found that a hoodie of Chris' she might've accidentally grabbed.

The moment she saw her now apartment she knew it was the one. The bathroom was absolutely beautiful which she found weird. When Matt and Nick came over to her apartment for the first time, they were shocked. The apartment was so her. They both helped her settle some things in. They went shopping for home appliances like decor, pots and pans, furniture, anything you could think of, they were there.

Chris knew that his brothers were hanging out with his ex girlfriend. He felt jealous, angry, upset. For the first few months he rarely spoke to his brothers. They tried to make an effort to hang out with him as much as possible, but he rarely let it happen. When they filmed their videos he would lock his feelings away and be as normal as possible.

The public still hadn't known that they were broken up, considering the fact that they never really posted about their relationship to avoid any hate or unnecessary rumors to spread around. They still followed each other, so the fans didn't think anything was wrong.

Y/n still continued to post on her socials, while Chris would post once every few weeks. He made an effort to get his license when he visited back home. He bought a car and tried to flip his life back the right way. He tried to talk to his brothers more. He tried to post more. He tried to contact Y/n but failed to do so because he always deleted his written out message, always closed out the phone app that was opened to her contact. Always backed out from asking Matt her new address.

Chris knew she had gotten a new apartment from her apartment tour video on youtube. He always caught himself up on anything she did. There was many speculations when that video came out but she quickly shut down the rumors by saying she just wanted her own place to continue to grow as her own person.

However, it wasn't until one day that Chris grew the courage to ask Matt the one question he always wanted to. "Hey, Matt?" He says, opening the fridge to get a pepsi. "Yea?" Matt says from washing his hands in the kitchen sink. "Can you give me Y/n's address, please." He says shyly. "And why exactly would I do that?" He says, drying his hands on his pants.

"I want to see her, and explain myself. I think I'm ready." Chris says, tapping his fingers against the table. A nervous habit he has. "What makes you think she's ready? Do you think she even wants to talk to you?" Matt knows Y/n has been wanting to reach out to Chris. He just wants to see that Chris is willing to do it himself.

A couple of weeks ago when Y/n mentioned to Matt that she was willing to talk to Chris, she gave him permission to give Chris her address if he ever asked. Also wanting to see if he would make the effort to. "I would hope she wants to. It's been quite some time. Has she.. told you something?"

"She's told me something, yes." Matt nods. Chris' heart flutters, knowing that she's probably ready to see him again, and possibly give him another chance. If she didn't want to give him another chance he would be bummed out but he'd understand.

"Is she ready?" Matt nods his to Chris' question. Matt grabs Chris' phone off the counter and unlocks it with his own face and inputs Y/n's address into the maps app. "Here, go talk to her." He hands the phone back to Chris. "Thanks. I'll be back." He snatches the keys from the table and runs to the garage. Chris looks down at his phone and realizes it's only a 10 minute drive.

Ten minutes. She's been ten minutes away from him this whole time.

Pulling up to her apartment complex. His hands start to sweat. He texts Matt and asks which buzzer is hers and which apartment floor and number is hers. He replies fairly quickly. Back at home, Matt runs to Nick's room. "It's time." He says out of breath. "He went?" Nick asks as he stops blowing his nose. "Yes." Nick had cancelled his plans with Y/n because he woke up with a cold. "Let's only hope."

The boys had hated seeing how their brother had been lately and how their friend had lost some of herself.

Chris presses her buzzer and it takes about two minutes for her to buzz open the door. Going to her floor and her door he takes a minute to himself before he knocks. "Hey, Nick. I thought you-" Her words were cut off once she saw who it really was. "Chris? What are you doing here?" She's taken aback. "I- I want to talk." He stumbles over his words. "If that's okay with you? I can leave if you want me to." He rambles.

"No, we can talk. Come in." She opens the door fully and he takes in her appearance as he walk in. She's wearing one of his favorite outfits she always wore when they went out just the two of them. "I like it. Your apartment, it's very you." He breaks the awkward silence. "Thanks, do you want anything to drink?"

"Do you have pepsi?" He asks, although he had one just before coming here. "I think so." Y/n turns on her heels and walks towards her fridge. She can't help but try to suppress her smile by biting down on her bottom lip. A habit of hers. She rummages through the fridge and finds her second to last pepsi. Over the years, she also grew an addiction to pepsi thanks to Chris.

"Here you go." She closes the fridge to turn to him when she finds him admiring the view from the high rise. "Oh, thanks." He turns back. "So," "So," They both say at the same time. "How have you been?" Chris asks as he opens the can. "I've been good, yeah. I just arrived from visiting my dad back home in Chicago."

Before starting high school, she was born and raised in the city of Chicago. But, when she bagan middle school her parents weren't the same anymore. So, when their divorce was finalized her mom packed herself, Y/n and her two little siblings and moved to Massachusetts. And that's where she met the triplets on her first day of Freshman year.

When Y/n turned eighteen, she traveled many time to Chicago to visit her dad for up to a month. Her siblings were a bit jealous so they begged their mom if they were able to tag along with Y/n. "Really? How was that?" Chris asks. "It was fun, I brought Maise and Freddy along. They were here two weeks before our trip and stayed here after we came back. They left a couple of hours ago." She hops on the counter spot next to Chris while he stays standing.

"How have you been?" She asks, playing with her fingers in her lap. "I've been good, too. I got my license when I went back home, finally. Bought a car, and that's pretty much it." Y/n gasps. "Really? That's cool. You're finally able to drive yourself around without the guys tagging along." Chris nods. "It's so much better, should've gotten it sooner." They both laugh. He eventually hops on the counter next to her. With her permission.

There's a beat of silence, their thighs are touching. Y/n bites the bullet and leans her head against his shoulder. Something she almost always did. Chris automatically melts into her touch and leans his head against hers. They stay like that for a while. Their hands eventually end up in one another's hold.

Chris is the first to break the silence. "M' sorry." Y/n can't help but tear up. "No, I'm sorry. If I hadn't broken up with you we wouldn't have been in this situation." Chris furrows his eyebrows and lifts his head off of her head and she lifts her head off of his shoulder. He stares at her teary eyes as he begins to speak. "You had no other choice, baby. I was fucking- gosh, I was horrible the last weeks of our relationship."

Chris hops off the counter and stands between her legs, bringing both of her hands up to his chest. "Chris," She begins. "No, listen to me, please." He cuts her off. "I messed up. I know I did." His voice begins to quiver and he begins to tear up, making more tears spill out of her eyes. "I was horrible at communicating how I was feeling. How everything I was going through put too much on my plate."

"And you know I didn't mean any I said to you that day, right? I didn't mean a single word. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me. You didn't waste none of my time. None of it." He wipes the tears that are falling from her eyes to her cheeks while he is in the same situation. "I also hope you know I didn't mean anything I said to you too." She says and he nods.

"Y/n, baby, I would do anything that will give me the privilege to be able to call you mine again. Anything." He takes her hands back in his hold. "Really?" She says. "Yes, baby." Chris smiles and kisses her hands. "Do you promise to always tell me how you're feeling?" He nods. "Yes, all the time."

"Can I be your boyfriend again?" He says shyly. "Please." She nods. He wastes no time in smashing his lips against hers. "I love you." He mumbles against her lips. "I never stopped loving you."

A couple of hours have passed by, the sun set many hours ago and it was now nearing two in the morning. Chris was staying the night. As the movie played in front of them. Both Chris and Y/n get a message. Y/n picks her phone off of the coffee table and so does Chris.

It's from Nick, which he wrote in the group chat all four of you have together.

nick

it's 2 am chris isn't home yet i'm guessing everything went well?

matt

can someone respond so i can sleep soundly pls?

chris

if you're asking if we're back together, yes we are

nick

thank fuck

matt

goodnight everyone💤

y/n

haha i'll see you guys tomorrow!!

nick

bring me more tissue

"I'm guessing they were waiting for this?" Chris asks. "Guess so." Y/n turns her phone off and hugs Chris as if he'll disappear. "I love you." He says, kissing her head. "I love you." She replies.

[bloody-cupcakes]

Love Quinn x very affectionate and loving reader please

A/N: I might've gone a bit off track here but I hope you like it regardless <3

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, obsessive/possessive behavior, murder, the reader is complacent in Love's crimes, implied anxious/stressful situations, this is pretty fluffy all things considered

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Love adored just how affectionate you were. Every time she saw you it was always a given that she'd be swept up in a big hug while being given a tender kiss. She'd never known love like that before, the kind that was utterly and truly unconditional.

Like the time you walked in on her blugeoning someone to death because they thought it would be appropriate for them to flirt with you out in the open when she was standing right there. How dare they even think to do that when you already belonged to her?

She'd been so angry, but the moment she saw you she broke down into tears, apologizing profusely for what she'd done. You'd merely shushed her, cupping her face with your hands and placing a kiss to her forehead before muttering a soft, "Let's get you cleaned up".

By that point you were used to it when she'd have an episode of rage-filled desperation, her mind telling her to get rid of the perceived problem as soon as possible. You always held her close to your chest for awhile after that, gently rocking her back and forth while humming a calming tune.

Every morning when she woke up, she was greeted by soft kisses being pressed all over her face by you, and every night when she went to sleep your forehead was pressed close to hers as you muttered just how much she meant to you. No one else made her feel quite as safe or as loved as you did.

In fact, she was so attached to you she decided to give you a job at Anavrin as her assistant so you could always be there with her throughout the day. It ended up being one of the best decisions of her life, because not only were you incredibly helpful you were also just as affectionate as usual, if not more so.

You always had a hand on the small of her back or her waist as she worked, or you were hugging her from behind while she mixed things or chopped up ingredients. Once Forty made a poor joke about PDA and Love gave him a look so stern he didn't speak to her for the rest of the day.

That's who she was when she was with you. She was someone who was so utterly consumed by you and your love that she was willing to even put her brother back in his proper place.

Every kiss that you gave her, every gentle touch, every soothing mutter, every reassuring glance, it was all too much for her to handle, and yet not enough at the same time. She needed you like she needed air, and you were the perfect oxygen mask, allowing her to breathe you in whenever she may need it. She could call in the middle of the night and you'd still show up at her door.

When life felt like it was too much to handle, when her parents were acting judgmental again, when her brother was on the verge of relapsing, you were there, your hands reaching out and grab her from out of the swirling deep abyss she felt as though she were plummeting into. Your arms felt like a warm blanket, keeping her dry and safe every time those same cold and salty waves of terror reared their ugly heads again, threatening to drown her.

Love was grateful that she always had you to run to. You protected her like no other, in a way that not even James had been able to accomplish. You were so understanding, and you weren't even afraid of her when discovering her secret. In your eyes, it was just another complicated part of her that deserved your love and attention.

Because that's what real, true love was. It was accepting someone's flaws despite everything, and that's exactly what you did. She knew she loved you from the very moment she saw you, but it was confirmed even further the very first time you helped her hide a body, promising that no one else had to know about it and that you'd do anything to keep her safe.

She was going to love you forever, it was decided. And you would, too, she was certain of it from the way your very souls felt intertwined, like two hands that were linked together tightly, neither person willing to let go. That was her and you, and it was going to be her and you, forever and always.