#fighting for the past is emotionally draining...

[etherealrin]

hiii its my first time requesting buttt i really love your works, so i was listening to paranoia by the marias and i was wondering if you could write a jealous rin itoshi to the point it was draining, resulting in a very angsty breakup thank you soso muchh 😭😭

. ♬ ݁˖ paranoia?

tw: toxic relationship, controlling … fem!reader, wc: 589

itoshi rin has a tendency to become obsessed with things he likes: first the horror games, then soccer, and his most recent niche happens to be you.

and in hindsight, you probably should have seen this coming.

his constant texts when you’re out alone with you’re friends. “are you safe? “come back soon.”

it had all seemed harmless at first, like he’d just cared about you. and his little fits of jealousy—where he’d go dead silent, a bit sulky, and ignore you whenever he thought you preferred a friend over him. you’d found that cute in the beginning too.

like a moth to a flame, you’d set up your own demise. no matter how much you tried to reassure him, sweet talk his insecurities out of him, he’d remained jealous, greener than the grass under your fingers you stare at now. but you’d thought it was fine, that he just loved you. no matter how controlling or difficult he could be, you’d forgive him. because he needs you.

you don’t even realize you’re picking at the foliage listening to him argue with you.

“swear he’s not anything to you,” rin pesters, his long eyelashes fluttering with each blink. “delete his contact!”

“rin, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? you know he has a girlfriend, and we’re just lab partners for this semester—if i don’t talk to him how will either of us pass the class?” the guy in question was a classmate, and you could tell he truly meant no harm, not to mention that you knew the girl he was dating. which you’d constantly reassured rin of for the past week.

“…give me your phone.” his teal eyes have gone cold. is this what you are to him now? some thing that he has to keep isolated at all costs? it’s ridiculous, hell you were with him every morning, evening, and night at this point—so why couldn’t he believe that you had no one else?

it’s even worse that there’s a small crowd forming around the two of you; because of course he had to pick a fight in the middle of your university campus. the onlookers are whispering amongst themselves, obviously waiting for someone to snap.

and you don’t hear the break, but it must’ve been you, because the next thing you know, there’s a rush of adrenaline, your mouth is opening and words are tumbling out faster than you can process.

“itoshi, i’m tired. it’s too much—whatever this is, it’s not healthy. for both you and i, it’s not. if you can’t get your paranoid ass together, no one else can do it for you! i can’t fix you!” you had never once spoken to him like that before. never openly admitted that he might not be alright, mentally.

rin’s standing too still. cold, emotionless. you see straight through his facade though, as much as he tries to keep his expression neutral, his eyes tell. that your words might have struck too close to home for him.

but you’re still mad, so you don’t—can’t—stop. “and honestly? it’s damn annoying. sorry itoshi, i can’t do this anymore. goodbye, and good luck.”

“w-wait! you don’t mean that…” his voice trails off, slowly twisting at the edges to pure hurt. it’s agonizing, letting his protests fall to deaf ears as he begins to follow you, though you have zero intention of stopping.

it’s been three months since. you tell yourself that it’s better for the both of you this way, like you’d told him then. but was it really, if rin still sends flowers to your front door once a month, on your old anniversary date, with a heart wrenching “take me back” folded into a paper heart attached to the blood red roses?

a/n: hii anon i’m so sorry this took me a while to get to! hopefully you like it :P + alternatively he could’ve called reader a “tepid piece of shit” but given how emotionally attached he was i think it results in a rare moment of public weakness (like in u20 ykyk).

now playing: paranoia by the marías, jealous by eyedress, dark red by steve lacy

masterlist.

[deepsixsquid]

It Has Been Quite A Day

[fizzyapplecandy]

The one with the shy bunny and the rowdy cat Part 1

Part 2 Part 3 Final

Ateez Seonghwa X Wooyoung X Reader

Owner Seonghwa X Cat hybrid Wooyoung X Bunny hybrid Reader

Genre and warnings: poly relationship (no mxm, just with the reader) hybrid, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, angst, heavy themes, mature language, happy ending

Word count: 6.2k

You thought you had run out of options. It was pouring outside, and a couple of aggressive dog hybrids made you move from your favourite spot behind the mall. There, you managed to make yourself a little living space. Being a stray wasn't easy, and life loved to remind you from time to time. Luckily, there seemed to be a little bench in front of a small bakery. The roof did enough to cover you, so you'd be good for the night. What you didn't expect was to be confronted by another hybrid - this time a cat. You were expecting the worst, making a new friend wasn't on your mind at all.

"Are you cold bunny? I can get my owner to make you some hot chocolate?"

This will probably be a two-part imagine, maybe three if I feel like it needs it. Stay tuned for the next update!

Lots of love, and happy reading X

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Life hasn't been easy in the past couple of months. You ran away from your previous home after the owner nearly beat you unconscious. He didn't give much shit about you, so he hasn't even tried looking for you.

You suppose it was your fault. At the end of the day, he wanted a cute, shy bunny to play with, and you were the complete opposite. Although now your self confidence went down drastically, and you remained a shell of what you once were.

Five months ago you were in a shelter, having fun with your fellow hybrids, when Jisung came. He looked and smelled nice, and you instantly gravitated towards him. The workers at your shelter told him you were quite confident, and you knew how to take care of yourself. You were the tiniest one in the litter, so you had to toughen up over the years.

It didn't take long for him to change his approach towards you. The first month went smoothly, but then he became more aggressive. Pets on the head became slaps on your cheek, food had to be earned, and you could only wear the clothes he bought you. No, there weren't pretty dresses and your favourite soft jumpers. There were only tight mini skirts and revealing tops. You were hungry, cold, tired and emotionally drained. It's not like you didn't try to fight back. Truly, you did. However, the amount of force he would use soon made you cower away.

One day, about two months ago, he left for a work trip and told you to stay put. He would be back by the end of the day, and you were to wait patiently. Maybe he was careless, maybe he even wanted you to run, because he left the key to the front door beside the shoe rack. It was a bit hidden, but your keen senses managed to help you find it. You dressed in the warmest clothes you owned, and out the door you went.

People on the street took pity on you, so they often gave you food, and sometimes even a warm blanket. You wish you knew the way to the shelter, but you were a lost cause. Some nights you cried yourself to sleep, others you ran until your feet hurt because the other stray hybrids weren't as nice as you thought.

You made yourself comfortable behind a closed mall, with a makeshift bed and a slight roof over your head. It was still early fall, and you had some time to think about what you were going to do in the winter. There was no chance to survive in the cold, with you being a bunny.

Your thoughts were interrupted when three stray dog hybrids made their way in front of you and your small shelter.

"Hey rabbit! Move, now."

"I-I'm a bunny."

The biggest of them scoffed before grabbing your arm and pulling you up.

"We do not care. Move it bitch!"

He threw you to the floor just as the rain started picking up. You had no other choice but to run, and you had no clue where you were going. You could still hear them laughing at you, and your eyes filled with tears. This was going to become an everyday thing for you now. Maybe you should have just stayed by Jisung's side. That way you would have had a warm bed at least, but now was not the time to dwell on it.

You tried running faster as the rain came pouring down, but you were too distracted by your own thoughts. It seemed like the street had no end.

Just as you were about to crouch down and give up, you saw a little bench in front of what seemed to be a bakery. The lights were off, and the roof covered the bench just enough to shelter you from the rain. Exhausted, you crashed onto the seat and pulled your knees towards your chest. You were freezing at this point, your thin rain soaked sweater doing a piss poor job at keeping you warm. You made peace with your destiny for tonight, and you were about to close your eyes and huddle into yourself when you heard the door beside you open.

"Oh! Hello there! I could smell you from inside you know? Your anxiety is freaking me out!"

Your eyes went wide, ears flat against your head. There stood a man, a hybrid it seemed, with his hands on his hips and a grin on his face.

"So, what are you doing here? It's pouring out there, you should go home! My hyung would be really mad at me if I stayed in the rain like this. And where is your jacket? Does your owner not make you wear one? I swear Hwa would have a heart attack if I went out without one!"

He seemed to be energetic. It's when you noticed the black cat ears on top of his head. They blended in with his dark hair, so it took you a minute. The cat hybrid continued ranting while you sat there almost speechless.

"Do you talk? You know how to, right? I know bunnies can be afraid, but hey I'm cool! I can be your friend you know? Hwa likes it when I make friends because then I don't bother him all day long. Hey, let's be friends!"

He rushed towards you and it made you freak out. Before he could reach the bench you stood up, stumbled on your clumsy feet and landed on your ass in front of him. The cat was taken aback, and he froze when he saw your hands covering your head, your shoulders shaking from fear.

"Oh... Sorry bunny. I don't... I just wanted to sit next to you..."

He slowly crouched down to your level, balancing his elbows on his knees.

"I'm Wooyoung. I'm a black cat. Hwa says I'm usually too straightforward, and I can see it now. What's your name?"

You still held your hands above you, only letting out small sniffles. It took everything in you not to cry, but you were barely holding on.

"Okay... You don't have to tell me yet. But hey..."

He shuffled a bit closer, but you didn't have it in you to move again.

"Are you cold bunny? I can get my owner to make you some hot chocolate?"

Hot chocolate? You haven't had anything sweet in a while. The offer was tempting, but you were still afraid. What if he was just saying that to lure you in?

Wooyoung cleared his throat.

"Or maybe... I can get you one of his carrot cakes? How's that?"

Oh my... A carrot cake? Why did he have to offer that? The thought of a carrot made your mouth go dry. The last time you had one was months ago, and you loved carrots.

You slowly lowered your hands and peaked at him. He was still crouched down, and he didn't attempt to move closer. You had to give it to him, he was persistent. Looking better at his face, he was handsome as well. The little mole under his eye was cute. He smiled when he noticed you were checking him out, and he slowly shuffled forward.

"Hmm... Carrot cake it is. Wait here, don't go, I'll be right back!"

He was up and running inside in a flash, and it gave you a moment to breathe.

Maybe he really wanted to befriend you?

You hit yourself on the forehead.

Was a carrot cake enough to make you dumb? Have you not gone through hell? Before you could dwell on it for too long, he was back.

"Okay, I managed to get you not one, but two pieces! It's a special cake for little bunnies like you! My Hwa loves making treats for hybrids. Come on, dig in!"

He left the pink plate with the cakes and a spoon on the bench, sitting down in front of you. Wooyoung didn't want you to feel scared, so he thought it was best to be eye level. It bothered you to see him cross legged on the cold concrete, the rain wetting his pants.

"Don't... Don't cats hate water?"

His eyes went wide hearing your soft voice. He started nodding frantically.

"Yeah, we do. But you can't be the only one getting wet. What's a little water, am I right?"

You glanced at the plate again, too afraid to reach for it. Wooyoung noticed, and he picked up the spoon, extending it over to you.

"Come on. You must be hungry. I don't like carrot cake, you can have it all to yourself."

Your eyes stayed fixated on his hand holding the tiny spoon. Should you go for it? You were hungry, tired, and frankly if he wanted to do something bad, he had many chances.

Slowly, your hand reached out, and Wooyoung smiled. He clapped when you finally took the spoon in your small hand.

"That's it! Good job bunny. Now, dig in!"

Oh well, here goes nothing. Just as you put the utensil in the soft, creamy cake, the door to the shop opened again.

"Wooyoung! Where the hell did you run off to with my plate! You don't even like..."

You stood up quickly, dropping the spoon from your hands and backed up a few steps.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I won't eat, here!" Your voice trembled with fear, hands held up in the air so that he could see you weren't taking anything.

"Oh damn it Hwa! She was about to take a bite!"

Wooyoung stood up as well, going over to this Hwa person. He was a young man, with long blonde hair tied in a small ponytail. He was frozen in place until Wooyoung hit him on the shoulder. If you ever did that, you'd be beaten until you couldn't stand, but the man didn't even blink.

"So... I assume the cake is for her?"

"Yes! I was about to make a new friend, and look, now you scared her!"

The boys glanced at you, shivering, hands still in the air. The blonde man cleared his throat.

"I apologize for that. I'm Seonghwa, and this is my naughty, obnoxious, loud..." - "We get it!"

Seoghwa covered Wooyoung's mouth with his hand.

"- hybrid Wooyoung. What's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Hey how come you've told him your name right away but you didn't wanna tell me?"

You had no answer to Wooyoung's question. Honestly, you were too afraid not to answer, because two against one was a losing battle.

"Calm down Woo, look at her. The poor thing is terrified. Hey, Y/N, please, help yourself with the cake. It's all yours."

Not a chance. The whole ruckus had to stop, or you would faint from fear.

"I don't want it. I'm sorry, can I please go now? I won't come back, I promise. Please, just... Let me go."

Both men looked at you with a sorrowful expression, and Seonghwa quickly realised what they were dealing with. If your freaked out stance wasn't a giveaway, it was the lack of suitable clothes for this weather, and your dirty bunny ears. Wooyoung was a bit oblivious sometimes, so he probably didn't figure it out. you were definitely a stray, and by the looks of it, you were having a tough time.

Seonghwa pushed Wooyung behind him, fixing him with a stare before the cat opened his mouth to complain. They had to do this carefully.

"Say Y/N... Do you live around here? Does your owner know you are away from home?"

They're not going to send you back to him, right? They wouldn't do that? I mean, you could explain it, but would he believe you? What if you just say you were out on a stroll? Maybe they will let you leave peacefully?

"I-I... M-My home..."

It took one pleading look from Wooyung to make you break down.

"Please don't send me back! I swear I will never come close to your shop, just please don't make me go back!"

Tears were starting to slide down your cheeks, and the men felt crushed. There you were, an incredibly cute bunny hybrid, all alone in the cold. You were so afraid of going back home you were shaking. Wooyoung felt miserable looking at you. He had his Seonghwa, a bed, food, shelter from the storm...

He didn't know what to say. For the first time in forever, he was speechless.

His brain, however, worked overtime. It clicked.

"We can take you with us! Right Hwa? She can come with us?"

You froze, tears still falling down, and looked wide eyed at Wooyoung. Seonghwa's mouth dropped open, and he turned towards his hybrid.

"Wooyoung! You can't just say that." The cat grabbed onto his shoulders.

"Please Hwa! Look at her! We can't leave her like this." He pushed him away and rushed towards you. His arms went around you, and you tried breaking free, but he was much stronger than you.

"Wooyoung, let the poor thing go! You're scaring her!"

Seonghwa tried prying his hands off you, but to no avail. He wasn't letting go, and your tears weren't letting up.

"I'm so tired... Please, just let me go..."

You stopped shaking after feeling his warmth, and you honestly haven't felt it in so long you almost forgot how it was.

The men noticed you were calming down slowly, and Seonghwa was at a crossroad.

"Please Hwa, look at the poor thing."

Seonghwa sighed. He hated when Wooyoung was right, but he had to agree with him. They couldn't let her stay outside in this condition. She was clearly frightened, cold, and who knows what she's been through.

"Y/N... Do you want to come with us? We can give you some real food, and a warm bed. Wooyoung won't mind sleeping on the couch tonight, is that right?"

Wooyoung loved his bed, and he hated sharing it, but he didn't even think twice before answering.

"Yes! You can have my bed, and my fuzzy socks. I will even give you my favourite blanket. It has kitties all over it."

Seonghwa couldn't help but laugh. His hybrid was one of a kind, and he loved him for it. They watched the poor bunny as she slowly looked up from Wooyoung's chest.

"C-Can I? I-I promise I'll be gone tomorrow."

"What? No! You're not going anywhere!" She looked up at the cat, and he was almost offended by her statement.

"Come on now, we'll talk about it tomorrow when you're rested. Woo, let the poor girl go now, you'll suffocate her." He tried prying his hands off the bunny, but to no avail.

"She doesn't mind, right? Stop trying to separate us!"

"A-Actually, you're kind of making it hard to breathe."

Seonghwa gave Wooyoung a hard look, and he reluctantly let go.

"Fine, but I'm hugging you again later. You're really soft."

You swayed on your feet a bit as his arms let go. It was obvious you were tired, so Seonghwa rushed inside to pick up his things and lock up. Meanwhile, Wooyoung took the plate and spoon in his hands. He smiled at you, offering it again.

"It would be a shame to let it go to waste, we'll take it home with us."

You didn't know what to say, so you just nodded. The thought of cake made you a bit sick at the moment.

Before Wooyoung could start blabbing again, Seonghwa came out with his bag and locked the door behind him.

"Okay, we're all set. Our apartment is just around the corner, are you okay to walk? We have an umbrella, you and Wooyoung can share it."

He handed over the large yellow umbrella, but Wooyoung quickly shook his head.

"I don't need it, give it to her." His owner's eyes almost bulged out of his head. The cat hated getting wet. He must really like you if he was willing to get drenched for you. Seonghwa watched as his hybrid wrapped his red sweater around your shoulders, careful not to scare you again. He then opened the umbrella and made sure you had a good grip on it before turning to Seonghwa and gesturing that they should go.

They made their way down the street, not exactly rushing because they knew you probably couldn't go very fast. Seonghwa was a bit lost in thought.

Wooyoung has been in his life for almost three years now. They were both young when Seonghwa adopted him from a shelter. He didn't like how people treated hybrids, because at the end of the day, they were still part human. He decided he would find himself a companion, someone to share meals with, talk, and have fun. He was a nurturing person, so the prospect of taking care of someone came naturally for him. Wooyoung was a firecracker from the start. He didn't hide his rambunctious personality, and he always kept Seonghwa on his toes. They had a strong bond, and everybody in Seonghwa's life adored the lovely black cat. When he opened up the bakery two years ago, Woo insisted on being the first customer. With the money he saved up doing online photography commission, he bought almost every dessert in the display. He even left a hefty tip. The joy on his face made Seonghwa melt, and he adored how happy he was.

They talked about making their family of two bigger by adopting another hybrid, but soon decided it was best they stay as they are until Seonghwa found someone he wanted to settle down with. Wooyoung wasn't jealous, but he loved his space and he didn't like sharing it. It was obvious why Seonghwa was taken aback by his wish to take the little bunny home with them.

He turned around and glanced at them, hearing Wooyoung talk about how nice his bed was, how his Hwa makes the best pancakes in the morning, and how they were going to make her a bubble bath once they got to the apartment. The bunny looked at her feet, struggling to hold onto the umbrella. She only nodded along to the other hybrid's words, but no sound came from her.

She must have had it rough out in the streets. Who knows what she's been through. One look at her could tell it wasn't a nice experience. He could only hope she would eventually trust them enough to tell her story.

After a quick walk, they arrived at their apartment building.

"Look bunny, here we are! Come on, come on, let's hurry inside."

Wooyoung rushed past Seonghwa, handing him the umbrella. He was still clutching the plate with two very wet pieces of carrot cake. His determination was sometimes overshadowed with his carelessness.

"Wooyoung, don't hassle the poor girl. It's okay, you don't have to rush. We live on the fourth floor, are you okay with taking the elevator?"

He looked at the shivering bunny, and she only nodded in response.

With a sigh, they caught up to Wooyoung who was already holding the door to the elevator open.

"Come on slow pokes! Our bunny needs to warm up!"

His owner raised an eyebrow. 'Our bunny'?

He was clearly thinking they were going to keep her. Maybe they could, but they first had to get her settled for the night, then they could talk about it more thoroughly.

The dim light cast a shadow over her, and it was apparent how tired she was. The dark bags under her eyes stood out even more. There was a sharp tug in Seonghwa's chest, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Poor little thing.

Once they made it to their door, his cat practically oozed joy. He put the key in and unlocked it, and Wooyung bolted inside.

"So here we are! Shoes go onto the rack by the door, we don't want Hwa to have a meltdown. Dirty clothes immediately get taken off and thrown into the hamper because the furniture can't be dirty, lastly you..."

Wooyoung stopped talking when he saw her cowering by the entrance. Seonghwa stood next to him, gesturing for the cat to shut up for a second.

"Hey bunny, he didn't mean to startle you. Just take it easy, okay?"

"You want me to take my clothes off?"

He realised what she had in mind, and he flailed his hands around, shaking his head.

"Oh, no. No, no, bunny. He didn't mean it like that! We will give you a fresh set to change into after you take a bath, but you'll do it all by yourself. We won't come near you, I promise. You can even lock the door."

Wooyoung nodded along to Seonghwa's words, realising himself how that might have sounded to her.

She nodded, taking a couple more steps inside. Her senses picked up on the faint vanilla smell, the ticking of the big clock above the TV, and the movement of the small lava lamp on the counter. Their apartment was nice, clean, and homey. She could see yarn balls in every corner of the room, probably Wooyoung's. She could also see a stack of cook books on the coffee table, and she guessed those were Seonghwa's.

"C-Can I go to the bathroom now please? I-I'm kind of cold."

Wooyoung, ever the eager, took her by the hand and walked her down the hallway.

"Of course! You just take your time inside. Here we are." He opened the door and took the liberty of preparing everything she would need.

"There you have all the shower products that you need. You can even use Seonghwa's expensive hair shampoo, he won't mind. He doesn't let me use it because I always empty out his bottle. But you're cute, so he'll let you. Oh! You can even make a bath bomb, look. You have many options in this basket."

He also gave her a stack of towels and told her to use whichever she wanted. By the time the tub was full Seonghwa came inside with an armful of clothes. He put them on the washing machine before turning towards her.

"Here you go. I didn't know what you would like, so you have some sweaters and shirts to choose from. Leave your clothes in the hamper, I'll take care of them later. You can also explore the cabinets above the sink, we have many products. Take as much time as you need, we'll be in the living room. Would you like to eat something?"

She forgot about food for a second. Her stomach rumbled a bit, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Some bread would be nice, please."

The boys looked at each other before turning towards her again. Seonghwa crouched down to look her in the eyes.

"How about some warm soup and a bowl of rice? Does that sound nice, bunny?"

She nodded slowly, almost afraid he would take the offer back if she was too eager.

He only smiled. "That's settled. We'll leave you to it now."

He ushered Wooyoung out before the cat made you more nervous, and they closed the door.

Finally, alone with your thoughts, you sat on the edge of the tub and looked at the tiled walls. Never could you have imagined running into people like them. Human or hybrid, your encounters these past few months have been terrible. You were so used to insults, nasty comments and a shove here and there, that the concept of someone being decent long escaped your head.

The exhaustion took over your body, and the warm water was calling your name. You walked over to the door and turned the lock, checking the handle to be sure you were safe inside. After that, you took your dirty clothes off and pushed them inside the hamper. The second you stepped into the warmth, your body almost started humming. As you settled in further, a smile made its way onto your face.

How you've missed this feeling. You submerged yourself completely, wetting your hair and ears before leaning against the tub. There was a variety of bottles in a small plastic container on the shelf, and you picked a random one to start washing yourself.

If Wooyoung said you had free reign, you might just use it. God knows when you'll be able to again.

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"Please Hwa! She is clearly in need of a home. I don't mind, really. I want her with us!"

"Wooyoung, for the love of God, you've only just met this girl. How can you be so infatuated already?"

The excited hybrid went to the fridge and pulled out various ingredients to make the bunny something to eat. He knew she would mainly go for vegetables, so he made sure he had lots of those. Maybe he could make her a quick salad while heating up the soup?

"Listen, hyung, I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But I'm sure you like her as well, you just won't say it. Look at her! She is so tiny, and soft, and she smells so sweet... She's perfect for us. And I won't be so bored when you're at work."

"You sit at the bakery most of the time."

Wooyoung scoffed.

"Yeah, well, I want to sit at home, but I don't want to be alone!"

Oh. That was new. Seonghwa was kind of stunned for a moment before he really took a good look at the rowdy cat. He looked kind of... Sad.

"Why didn't you tell me that sooner? We agreed a year ago we wouldn't bring more hybrids to the house."

He was now aggressively chopping some lettuce, and Seonghwa was worried he'd chop a finger off.

"I know, I was there. I was the initiator of that conversation. I just... Sometimes I wanna sit here, on my favourite couch, and just do nothing. But I hate being alone. I thought you would be mad at me."

Seonghwa quickly walked over to him. He opened his arms and the cat rushed into a hug.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry I didn't notice it sooner. I'm not mad at you, I'm surprised you've managed to keep it to yourself this long."

They both chucked and enjoyed each other's embrace. Wooyoung was affectionate, his love language being physical touch, so Seonghwa had to cuddle him all the time. It's not like he minded, it gave him a sense of calmness as well. Although most of the time he had to measure his blood pressure to make sure it didn't go over the roof.

"Does that mean we can keep her? She can stay here and be with me? I promise I'll take care of her!"

Seonghwa stayed silent, thinking about how their lives would change if they took her in. She was clearly in need of it, and Wooyoung had a point. It might give him some space to do things on his own, and he liked that.

"Listen, I'm saying we can talk to her about it, and if she says yes..."

Wooyoung squeezed him again, rubbing his cheek all over his shoulders and neck.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't wait to tell her!"

As if sensing they were talking about you, you slowly emerged from the hallway.

"I-Im done. S-Sorry I took so long, it felt really nice."

If they could have melted on the spot they would've. You were as cute as a button, with your wet hair and ears, swimming in Seonghwa's sweatshirt and Wooyoung's pants. You bare feet tapped on the ground, and you nervously grabbed the hem of the shirt in your small hands.

Wooyoung detached himself from Hwa and made his way over to you.

"Look at you! Oh, let me get my fuzzy socks, I have tons! And I'll get a hairbrush and the dryer. We don't want you catching a cold all wet like this. Come, come, the soup is ready. Hyung, make sure she eats a lot!"

He went around you, sniffing slightly and smiling when he caught a whiff of his scent mixed with yours. He couldn't wait to properly scent you, so that others knew you belonged to him.

"Come, bunny. Take a seat." Seonghwa gestured towards the kitchen island where three chairs sat, and you picked the one closest to you.

"I-I can sit on the floor if you want."

He frowned. "Nonsense. I barely managed to teach Wooyoung to sit at the table during meals, he'll go right back to eating in front of the TV if he sees you."

So, they had freedom to sit where they wanted? That was a new thing for you. You didn't want to question it, so you made yourself comfortable on the chair. Seonghwa placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of you, next to it a bowl filled with fresh salad, and a big glass of water.

"Eat first, then drink the water. Try not to rush, we don't want you to get a stomachache."

"Yes sir." You nodded as politely as you could and slowly picked up the spoon. Seonghwa lightly frowned at your choice of words. Never once had he heard Wooyoung call him that. It was always something endearing, or a simple 'Hwa'. Whoever had you before made sure to discipline you harshly it seemed. He noticed you glancing at him, still holding the spoon but not taking a bite. Maybe you thought he would punish you if you actually ate? That made him turn around and go to the sink to wash the dishes Wooyoung pulled up while cooking. He would give you the privacy you needed to make sure you ate without fear.

He heard you slurping the broth after a few minutes, and soon enough you started chowing down on the salad. He kept himself busy with his back turned, and only when he heard you exhale in satisfaction did he turn.

You sure made a mess on the table, and your cheeks were still full, but you looked absolutely adorable.

"How was it bunny? Is Wooyoung a good cook?"

"Of course I'm good! I'm brilliant! Look, she ate it all! Good job sweetie!"

You froze in place, swallowing the remaining food, and keeping your head down.

"H-He is. Thank you, Wooyoung."

The cat was beaming at your words, and Hwa could practically feel the praise going into his head.

"My pleasure! I'll cook for you every day! Come now, I finally found the pink socks, and I even found a pink hair tie. Hyung loves pink, but he won't admit it out loud."

Seonghwa gasped. "Hey now. Don't go around telling all my secrets."

"Oh please, give me a break. I don't have time to argue with you right now, I have a bunny to groom. Let's go to the couch, we can put on my favourite movie!"

The girl barely managed to get down before she was dragged towards the living room. Things change, but Wooyoung will always stay the same. He understood to some degree that she was delicate, but that perished from his mind as soon as he let himself be, well... Himself.

"Here, you sit down on the pillow, and I'll sit behind you. Hwa, can you get us some snacks? Thanks!"

Yes, he was unapologetically himself.

"Sure thing Woo... Remind me who the owner of this house is again?" The younger boy laughed, the sound startling the poor bunny.

"Silly you, we share it, remember? I'm the perfect housewife, and you bring in the money! We love money Y/N! I'll teach you how to use hyung's special credit card to buy cute clothes."

He positioned himself behind you after making sure you were comfortable on the pillow. You hugged your knees to your chest, and glanced around seeing his legs beside yours. You were never this close with someone before, but it felt nice with how warm Wooyung was. He slowly started brushing out your tangled hair, and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment. Seonghwa came over and you saw him place a bowl of cut up fruit in front of you.

"Help yourself Y/N. There's a variety in there. Wooyoung usually eats all the strawberries, but I'm sure he can share them with you."

"Ha! Of course I can. She can eat them all if she wants." He paused the brushing for a moment.

"Well, maybe leave me one or two, but go ahead!"

You smiled slightly, and Seonghwa's eyes softened. Wooyoung had a way with people, and he could make them comfortable quickly. He was glad his hybrid had an impact on you already.

The moment was soon ruined by a single touch to your ear.

"Hey, let's brush these out as well, you -"

"No!"

You covered your bunny ears with your hands, gathering yourself in a ball.

"Please don't! N-Not my ears. Please!"

Wooyoung could feel you trembling, and he moved his hands in the air.

"Woah, bunny, sorry. I won't touch them if you don't want to."

Seonghwa kneeled in front of you, lowering his head to catch your eyes.

"Hey sweetie, he won't touch them. He didn't mean to scare you. Do you want him to stop brushing your hair now?"

You nodded and Wooyoung's happy face soon turned sad. Maybe he should have asked before touching, but he didn't think it would be a problem. He loved it when people scratched behind his ears.

"Do you want to feel my ears? I sometimes make Hwa pet me for hours!"

You uncovered yourself slowly, turning your head to glance at him.

"Y-You like that? D-Doesn't it feel bad?"

"No! Not at all! Come on, I'll show you how to do it."

He gently grabbed your hand and placed it behind one of his black ears, moving it around to guide you. He let go, and you continued petting him. The purrs he let rumble from his chest made you confused? Jisung only grabbed you by the ears to teach you a lesson. Sometimes he even pulled you around the house. Wooyoung's eyes closed, and he leaned into your touch.

"See bunny? Now that he showed you, he's gonna make you do it all the time." Seonghwa reached over and scratched the cat's other ear, and he looked like he went to heaven.

"I-I see... B-But can you not do it to me, please? Not y-yet..."

You put your hand down, and Seonghwa moved his away. Wooyoung opened his eyes and smiled.

"No problem. But just so you know, I expect scratches from you too now. Your hands are really gentle."

You glanced at him again, seeing the satisfaction on his face. Maybe it didn't have to be so bad after all? You were still queasy about the thought of someone touching your sensitive ears, but it could be an option in the back of your mind.

The evening went on without a hitch after that. Seonghwa helped you put on the fuzzy pink socks, bickering with Wooyoung who was brushing your hair for an hour straight. If somebody had told you this is how hybrids talked to their owners, you wouldn't believe them. You would likely get smacked if you even thought about raising your voice, but Seonghwa only sighed at Wooyoung's screams. Your ears kind of hurt, but it was amusing, so you stayed quiet. They showed you how to turn the TV on, where the pantry filled with treats was, and how to adjust the heater in Wooyoung's room. He didn't want to change the sheets because he claimed it would only comfort you if you smelled his scent. You kind of had to agree with that.

Soon enough, you were tucked under a soft blanket with the two men standing above you.

"Night night bunny! Wake me up when you get out of bed, I usually sleep until noon, but I don't want to miss out on our time together!" The cat waved and hopped out of the room, leaving you with his owner.

"We can talk about everything tomorrow once you've rested. You had a long day." He lightly patted you on the head, avoiding your ears, and soon you were left alone.

Even though the room was unfamiliar, you kind of liked how it made you feel. The walls were filled with polaroids, you could see a camera on the desk, and there were fairly lights on the ceiling.

Your eyes slowly closed, and you fell in a dreamless sleep for the first time in God knows how long. You were finally safe, and you couldn't get enough of the feeling.

.

.

[astrolook]

The Catalyst Synastry That Triggers Your Destruction (and Rebirth) 🔥💀

Note: These are just my personal observations over the years and should not be taken as absolute truth. Astrology is complex, and every connection is unique. Take what resonates and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments!😉

Some people come into your life to love you. Others? To flip your entire existence upside down, burn it to the ground, and force you into a self-help era you never signed up for. Coincidence? Nope. It’s synastry. Let's see some relationship synastry overlays/aspects today!

Their Pluto in your 1st - They enter your life, and suddenly, you’re going through the biggest glow-up or hit rock-bottom and get existential breakdown of your life. No in-between.

Their Mars in your 8th - This person activates your deepest fears, kinks, and paranoia all at once. Either you really love them or hate them with a passion.

Their Moon in your 12th - You feel so connected to them and feel like they can read your mind. It’s because they live rent-free in your subconscious, triggering all your past-life trauma like a fever dream. You won’t realize the damage until they’re gone. And then? Good luck healing.

Their Saturn in your 7th - This one feels like a serious relationship. Until you realize that "serious" actually means suffocating, karmic, and possibly an unpaid internship. They either build you up or age you 10 years. Maybe both.

Their Venus in your 6th - They enter your life, and suddenly, you are doing their tasks like it's your part-time job. They love you. But they also love how convenient you are.

Their North Node in your 10th - Either a career change or a scandal. You will evolve, but first you will suffer. This person can either tear your public life apart and get you a bad name in the society or make you powerful. No in-between.

Their Neptune in your 5th - Love at first sight. Until it’s delusion at second sight. You were convinced they were your soulmate. Turns out, you just ignored all the red flags and created a fanfiction in your head.

Their Mars in your 4th - They feel like home until you realize it’s a home with constant fights. Your family probably hates them or vice versa. Childhood wounds are activated & parental issues are triggered. It’s not just passion, it’s war in your safe space. The relationship is either deeply healing or emotionally exhausting.

Chiron conjunct Moon - They expose every emotional wound you thought you healed. You cry. A lot. Sometimes over things you didn’t even know hurt. It might feel comforting and cruel at the same time.

Mars opposite Moon - They push every emotional button you have. Fights so devastating your ancestors feel it. The passion is insane. The emotional stability is nonexistent. You leave the relationship either stronger or in shambles. They make you feel wanted, desired, and constantly misunderstood.

South Node conjunct Sun - You know them maybe from a past life or maybe from a nightmare. They drain you emotionally, mentally, sometimes financially. You owe them something. You’re not sure what, but it’s ruining your life. You try to leave. You can’t. Not until the karma is paid. When it’s over, you’re relieved.

Uranus opposite Venus - You are both obsessed and repulsed at the same time. Passionate one day, distant the next. You never feel bored but also never feel safe.Just when you think it’s stable, BOOM. Another unexpected breakup. It ends suddenly. And you’re left wondering WTF just happened.

Moon opposite Uranus - One day, they adore you; the next, they disappear. You never know what’s coming next which is terrifying. The emotional highs are exhilarating and the lows are devastating. You’ll never be the same after this one.

Neptune conjunct Mercury - Their words sound like poetry. Until you realize it’s just well-crafted confusion. Miscommunication is a core feature of this relationship. They either gaslight you into a dreamlike state or open your mind to new realities. Maybe both. When it's over, you realize you feel in love with an illusion.

Venus square Pluto - Instant attraction or feels like you stepped on a landmine. This connection will ruin your peace and possibly your bank account. You don’t “get over” this one. You just learn to live with the emotional damage.

✨ Wanna know more about your birth chart or your relationship? DM me for a synastry or complete birth chart reading ✨ and check out my pinned post for pricing! 🌟💫

[gildedsilk]

You Can Walk Home 🚙

Pt 2/2.

• Sim Jaeyun x Reader | Wc: 1K+ | Angst, Comfort | PG-13 ༻

༺ Masterlist | Pt 1.

The sound of tires rolling over wet pavement barely registered in your mind until a pair of headlights illuminated the sidewalk ahead of you. The familiar black car slowed to a crawl beside you, the hum of the engine the only thing cutting through the quiet of the night.

You didn’t stop walking.

The passenger-side window rolled down, and Jake’s voice—steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place—broke through the cold air.

“Get in the car.”

You ignored him, tightening your arms around yourself as you picked up your pace. The rain had started drizzling again, fine droplets clinging to your hair, your clothes, chilling you to the bone.

The car matched your speed.

“Y/N.” His voice was firmer this time, less of a request and more of a demand. “Please.”

That made you stop.

You turned your head, meeting his eyes through the open window. His hands were gripping the steering wheel, knuckles taut, and his jaw was clenched in a way that told you he was frustrated. But beneath all of that, beneath the irritation and the stubbornness, was something else.

Regret.

“You told me to walk home,” you reminded him, your voice quieter than you intended, but it carried the weight of the hurt you felt.

Jake sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before resting it on the gear shift. “I know. I shouldn’t have said that.”

You swallowed hard, fingers digging into your arms. “But you did.”

His grip on the wheel tightened. “I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

Silence settled between you, heavy and uncertain. The streetlights above cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the way his eyes searched yours, desperate for you to understand.

“I don’t want you walking home alone,” he admitted, softer this time. “Just… get in the car.”

You hesitated. Every ounce of pride in you wanted to keep walking, to make him feel the weight of what he’d said. But at the same time, you were exhausted—emotionally, physically, in every way that mattered. The fight had drained you, and the cold wasn’t helping.

With a sigh, you reached for the car door handle and slid into the passenger seat, the warmth of the car immediately enveloping you. Jake didn’t say anything as he reached over, turning up the heat without a word.

The ride was quiet at first. The sound of rain tapping against the windshield filled the space between you, but the weight of everything unspoken was suffocating.

“I don’t want to keep fighting with you,” he said finally, his hands gripping the wheel. “I don’t want us to get to a point where we say things we don’t mean.”

You stared at your lap, tracing patterns on your jeans. “Then why does it feel like we’re already there?”

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to lose you over it.”

Something in his voice cracked at the end, and for the first time tonight, you let yourself look at him—really look at him. The frustration was still there, but beneath it was something raw. Something vulnerable.

“We need to talk,” you said, voice steady.

Jake nodded, his grip loosening on the wheel. “Yeah. We do.”

And for the first time that night, it felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t walking away from each other after all.

The rest of the drive home was quiet—not the heavy, suffocating silence from earlier, but something softer. Tentative. Like the space between you both was fragile, held together by the things left unsaid.

Jake’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel, a nervous habit you’d seen countless times, but tonight it felt different. Less like restlessness, more like hesitation. Like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

You stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur past, your thoughts tangled in everything that had happened. The fight. The words you didn’t mean. The ones that still hurt anyway.

When Jake finally pulled into the driveway, he cut the engine but didn’t move. Neither did you.

For a moment, it was just the sound of the rain, the occasional drip of water sliding off the roof of the car.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Come inside?” His voice was careful, like he wasn’t sure if you’d say no.

You exhaled slowly, fingers gripping the hem of your sleeve before you nodded. “Yeah.”

The two of you stepped out into the cold, the rain light but still enough to make you shiver. Jake didn’t hesitate this time—he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders before unlocking the front door.

The warmth of the apartment wrapped around you as you stepped inside. It smelled like him—like cedarwood and something undeniably Jake. Familiar. Safe.

You slipped off your shoes, still holding his jacket tightly around yourself as you followed him into the living room. He stood there for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, before finally turning to face you.

“We should talk,” he said quietly.

You nodded, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his jacket. “I know.”

A heavy sigh left his lips as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice laced with exhaustion. “For everything. For what I said. I shouldn’t have—” He exhaled sharply. “I shouldn’t have told you to walk home.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “That’s not the part that hurt the most, Jake.”

His brows furrowed, his gaze searching yours. “Then what was?”

You hesitated, but you had to say it. You couldn’t keep holding it in.

“The way you made it seem like I’m just… too much. Like I’m always picking fights when all I’ve been trying to do is get you to talk to me.” Your voice was quieter now, but steady. “Lately, it feels like you’re somewhere else even when you’re right in front of me. And I don’t know how to fix that if you won’t let me.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might shut down again.

But then he let out a shaky breath. “You’re not too much,” he said, stepping closer. “I promise you, you’re not.”

“Then why does it feel like you’ve been pulling away?”

He exhaled, rubbing his temples before finally meeting your gaze again. “Because I’m scared, Y/N.”

That made you pause. “Scared?”

Jake let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. Scared that I’m gonna mess this up. Scared that one day you’re gonna wake up and realize I’m not enough for you.” His voice dropped, softer now. “So I started shutting down without even realizing it. I thought maybe if I didn’t say the wrong thing, if I just kept things light, I wouldn’t ruin this. But I was ruining it anyway, wasn’t I?”

Your heart clenched. You hadn’t expected that.

“Jake…” You took a step forward, closing the space between you. “You are enough. You always have been.”

His eyes flickered with something raw, something vulnerable, and it made your chest ache.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Then don’t push me away.”

Jake stared at your joined hands for a moment before his grip tightened, like he was afraid to let go.

“I won’t,” he promised. “I swear, I won’t.”

For a few seconds, neither of you moved. Then, finally, Jake pulled you in—slowly, cautiously, like he was giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You went willingly, melting against him as his arms wrapped tightly around you.

He buried his face in your shoulder, exhaling deeply like he was finally letting go of something heavy. You held him just as tightly, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm.

“I love you,” he murmured against your skin, the words soft but certain.

Your breath hitched.

He’d said it before, but tonight it felt different. Like a reassurance. A reminder. A promise.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding up to cradle his face. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, his expression open in a way that made your chest tighten.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

A breath of relief escaped him, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you. Slow and deep, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t put into words into this moment.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his damp hair, holding him as close as possible.

By the time you pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, breath mingling in the quiet of the room.

Jake let out a small, almost sheepish laugh. “So… I guess we’re okay?”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Yeah,” you said softly. “We’re okay.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you into his warmth, and for the first time that night, the weight between you disappeared.

The fight was behind you. The words were forgiven. And as Jake pressed one last kiss to your forehead, you knew that whatever happened next, you’d face it together.

[mysticbby2009]

Friends Without Boundaries (part 8)

Rafe Cameron smau texting based series rafe being a manwhore cause he doesn't want to realize his feelings for his best friend anything dark mode is Rafes pov

masterlist and series masterlist

part 7??

Your phone won’t stop buzzing.

Sarah. JJ. Even Topper, who usually stays out of it. They’re all blowing up your messages, and you already know what they’re saying.

Talk to him. Fix it. Stop being an idiot.

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and flopping down beside it. You feel drained—mentally, emotionally, even physically. You should’ve seen this coming. You should’ve known you weren’t strong enough to just “stay friends” with Rafe Cameron.

You’d been so sure of your decision, so sure that walking away was the right move. That was, until you saw Sarah's text about how hurt he is.

There’s a knock at your door.

You freeze. No one comes over unannounced except—

Another knock. This one firmer. “Y/n/n, open the damn door.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. He sounds mad.

For a second, you consider ignoring it. But Rafe Cameron has never been the type to leave when told, and you’re too exhausted to deal with him picking your lock like he has way too many times in the past.

So, with a deep breath, you push yourself up and swing the door open.

Rafe doesn’t wait. He steps inside like he owns the place, closing the door behind him before turning to face you. His jaw is clenched, his blue eyes sharp and unreadable.

You cross your arms. “You could’ve texted.”

His lips curl into a humorless smirk. “Yeah, well, you could’ve not ended things like that.”

You flinch at his tone, but you stand your ground. “I didn’t end anything. I just—”

“—Pushed me away? Pretended like we don’t both know what’s going on here?”

You exhale sharply, pressing your fingers to your temples. “Rafe, don’t do this right now.”

“Oh, so you get to say whatever you want and leave me standing there like an idiot, but I don’t get to talk about it?”

Your jaw tightens. “I thought you’d be relieved.”

His eyes darken. “Relieved?”

“You were always saying we were better off as friends.” You force yourself to meet his gaze, even though it’s like staring into a storm. “So I made it easier for you.”

His nostrils flare. “Easier for me? Are you insane?”

“Yeah, actually,” you snap, throwing your hands up. “Completely, fucking delusional for thinking I could be around you every day and pretend like I don’t—”

Your voice catches, and you clamp your lips shut before the words slip out.

Rafe exhales slowly, as if forcing himself to be calm. “Like you don’t what? Say it.”

You shake your head, backing up. “You already know.”

He runs a hand through his hair, looking away for a moment. When he looks back, his expression is softer. “Yeah,” he says. “I do. But I still need to hear you say it.”

You swallow. Your throat feels tight. “I love you.”

Something shifts in his face. Like all the fight drains out of him at once.

“Yeah?” His voice is quieter now.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He lets out a breath, stepping closer. “Good. Because I love you, too.”

Your heart nearly stops.

You’ve imagined hearing those words before—hell, you’ve dreamed about it. But now that they’re real, you don’t know what to do with them.

Rafe watches you carefully, then sighs. “Jesus, Y/n/n, you really thought I didn’t want you?”

You glance down, suddenly embarrassed. “You weren’t exactly clear about it.”

He scoffs. “I literally get into fights over you on a weekly basis. What more do you want?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe, I don’t know, a direct confession instead of threatening every guy who breathes in my direction?”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “That was my confession.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, shoving at his chest. “That’s not how normal people work!”

“We’re not normal people,” he reminds you, smirking.

You groan, but the tension in your chest starts to ease. “God, you’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he muses, wrapping his arms around your waist, “you love me.”

You sigh dramatically, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Unfortunately.”

He grins. “That’s rough. Wanna make out about it?”

You roll your eyes but don’t stop him when he leans in.

His lips meet yours, and—holy shit.

It’s not soft, not at first. It’s all the frustration, all the tension, all the wanting that’s been brewing for months. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, and you fist the fabric of his hoodie, like you’re afraid he’ll disappear.

When you finally pull apart, you’re both breathless.

“Damn,” Rafe mutters, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “We should’ve done that sooner.”

You huff out a laugh, still catching your breath. “Yeah, no shit.”

He grins, his usual cockiness slipping back in. “Wanna do it again?”

You narrow your eyes. “Did you ever think about anything other than kissing me?”

He pretends to think. “Nope.”

You smack his arm, and he laughs, grabbing your wrist before you can do it again. “Come on, that’s not fair.”

“You deserve it.”

“I do not.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your lips as you lean into his chest. His arms tighten around you, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

Eventually, he murmurs, “You okay now?”

You nod against his hoodie. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “I mean, you’re still an idiot, but yeah.”

He smirks. “Good.” Then, with zero warning, he scoops you up and throws you onto the couch.

You yelp. “Rafe! What the fuck?!”

He just grins, flopping down beside you. “Some things don’t change, babe.”

You shove at him, but he just laughs, pulling you into his side. And as you curl up against him, fingers loosely intertwined, you realize—

You wouldn’t want it any other way.

You love him and he loves you you're finally not just friends anymore.

@my-name-is-baby, @lili-swagalicious , @drewsswifeyy , @yktayy9669 , @yktayy9669 , @kissylec, @giouvarlakia, @bsenpai, @imtalkinnonsense, @wtfisastiles, @furiouscopshepherduniversity, @artbymin, @urbimom , @crvcified-kinx , @vanessa-rafesgirl @popou61 @emmaaas-posts @bridgersph @soulsearchinginkauai

im sorryy if i missed anyonee

[kinzhae]

✦•┈๑⋅⋯Marriage Of Steel ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

In a world where power and family ties define one's worth, [Y/N], a strong-willed woman from a neglected jujutsu clan, is married off to the aloof and powerful Satoru Gojo. Alone in a lavish yet cold estate, she struggles to find her footing as she faces both the isolation of her marriage and the whispers of disrespect from those around her. Determined not to be overshadowed, [Y/N] fights to assert herself in a world that expects her to be docile, all while grappling with her growing feelings for a husband who remains distant and emotionally unreachable. -Historical Au!

This is a Gojo x Fem!Reader series, I have posted this on wattpad already if you guys want to read it here is the link. This is a historical au! This series will be written by reader's POV. Hope you all enjoy :)

Chapter 1

Morning sunlight filtered through the thin silk curtains, casting a soft glow over the spacious room. I lay still in bed, staring up at the intricately carved ceiling, my thoughts an unrelenting spiral.

How did I end up here?

The events of the past two weeks felt surreal, like I’d been swept into a current I couldn’t escape. An arranged marriage to the renowned Satoru Gojo of all people—the prodigy of the Gojo clan, with more influence and power than most could ever dream of. I was no stranger to responsibility or duty; my own clan had drilled it into me since birth. But nothing had prepared me for this.

For being a wife.

For being alone.

The estate was grand, more luxurious than anything I’d known, yet it felt hollow. Its vast halls and pristine gardens were unfamiliar, filled with people who barely acknowledged me—or worse, whispered behind my back. And then there was Satoru, my husband in name only. He was rarely here, always consumed by his duties or disappearing for reasons he never cared to explain.

I exhaled sharply and sat up, pushing the blankets aside. If I stayed in this bed any longer, I’d suffocate on my own frustration.

Dressed and ready for the day, I stepped into the halls, my footsteps echoing against the polished floors. I had no destination in mind, only a need to move, to shake off the weight pressing on my chest.

As I passed the sitting room, the sound of hushed voices caught my attention. I paused, listening.

“She doesn’t belong here,” a voice said, sharp and derisive.

My jaw clenched.

“She’s not fit to be the lady of this house,” the maid continued. “Walking around like she owns the place. I could do her job better than she ever could.”

“Be quiet,” another maid urged, her tone nervous. “If anyone hears you—”

“So what? It’s the truth.”

My hand tightened around the edge of the doorframe. I stepped inside deliberately, my presence cutting the conversation short. The maids froze, their faces draining of color.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I said, my voice cold. “Please, continue.”

The bold one opened her mouth, likely to deny everything, but I raised a hand to silence her.

“You think you can disrespect me in my own house?” I demanded, my tone sharp enough to make her flinch. “Do you think your position here gives you that right?”

The other maids glanced at one another, panic clear in their eyes, but the offending maid stood rooted to the spot, her face pale but defiant.

“I’ll teach you to know your place,” I said, my anger boiling over. “You—fetch me a stick. A small, sturdy one.”

The maid hesitated, but my glare sent her scurrying.

I held the stick tightly, glaring down at the maid who’d insulted me. “Hold out your hand,” I ordered.

She hesitated, trembling slightly, but didn’t move. My grip on the stick tightened. “Do it. Now.”

“Enough.”

The single word sliced through the air like a blade, its quiet authority freezing me in place. I turned sharply to see Satoru standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. His butler stood just behind him, silent and composed.

“What’s going on here?” Satoru asked, his eyes flicking from me to the maid and back again.

“She insulted me,” I said firmly, lifting my chin. “I’m teaching her a lesson.”

His gaze dropped to the stick in my hand. Slowly, he approached, his footsteps measured. Without a word, he plucked the stick from my grasp, his fingers brushing against mine for the briefest moment.

“That’s enough,” he said quietly, turning his attention to the maid. “You’re dismissed. Permanently.”

The maid paled further, tears welling in her eyes as she stammered apologies. Satoru’s butler stepped forward, escorting her from the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded once the room was empty, my anger rekindling.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Satoru replied, his tone infuriatingly calm. “You don’t need to resort to... this.”

“She disrespected me,” I shot back. “I won’t let anyone treat me like I’m beneath them.”

“Respect is earned, not forced,” he said.

“Spare me the lecture,” I snapped. “You’re barely here, and when you are, you act like I don’t exist. Don’t pretend you care how I’m treated.”

His expression didn’t change, but I thought I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—irritation, perhaps. Or guilt.

“Do what you want,” he said after a moment, turning to leave. “Just don’t cause a scandal.”

The confrontation left a bitter taste in my mouth. I stormed back to my quarters, my anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Emiko,” I called, summoning my new maid. She appeared quickly, her kind face a small comfort.

“Yes, milady?”

“We’re going out,” I announced, not bothering to mask my irritation. “Prepare the carriage.”

Emiko hesitated but nodded. As she adjusted my hair and straightened my clothes, her quiet presence calmed me slightly.

“Are you alright, milady?” she asked softly.

I glanced at her, startled by the question. “I’m fine,” I said curtly, then softened. “Thank you, Emiko.”

As the carriage pulled up to the estate gates, Satoru appeared on horseback, his arrival as inconvenient as it was imposing.

“And where are you going?” he asked, dismounting with practiced ease.

“Shopping,” I replied shortly, climbing into the carriage.

“With no escort?”

I bristled. “I don’t need an escort. I can protect myself.”

“You’re strong, I’ll give you that,” he said, his tone maddeningly casual. “But strength doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m not a child, Satoru.”

“No, but you’re my wife,” he said simply. “And I won’t have anything happen to you.”

I glared at him, but his calm resolve didn’t waver. Finally, I sighed, relenting just enough to allow one of the guards to accompany me.

I grumbled as Emiko handed a note to the driver, and moments later, a young guard appeared, bowing stiffly before climbing up to sit with the driver.

“You gave in?” Emiko asked softly, settling beside me.

“Barely,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “Let him think he won this time. It’s not worth the argument.”

Emiko’s lips twitched, but she wisely said nothing.

As the carriage rolled forward, I glanced out the window, catching a fleeting glimpse of Satoru riding ahead, his figure disappearing into the crowded streets.

The ride was quite bumpy, Emiko kept talking about romance novels, everytime she mentions her favorite characters her eyes lit up and her speech got more faster. I also liked to read romance book's, at my own estate before I got married I used spent a lot of times reading books or cooking secretly.

My father and my mother were not in love, so growing up I didn't get any attention from both of them. My nanny was the one who always took care of me since I was a kid, she tought me to be polite, helpful and put people in their place if they deserved it. She also used to talk about "marriage, love, bounds." which is not a familiar words for me.

Nanny Miyako and her husband who worked as a chef in our estate was madly in love with each other, whenever she was taking care of me she would tell me about her sweet marriage and how she wanted a kid of their own but that was not possible yet she never complained about it and saw me as her own kid and raised me well.

My marriage with Gojo Clan's son, Gojo Satoru was not anything special. After the wedding he just simply disappeared for his 'mission' and ever since we barely saw eachother. The breakfasts and dinners were quiet since I eat by myself, when the maid's are busy I just walk around the big estate. I wasn't really fond of the maids, gojo and I were distant so they took a chance to gossip things about me behind my back like I didn't exist there.

"Milady, we arrived." Emiko got up and hopped off the carriage easily, I glanced outside before taking her hand and getting off the carriage.

The bustling streets enveloped us as Emiko and I wandered deeper into the marketplace. The vibrant energy of the crowd, combined with the enticing displays of goods, began to chip away at the irritation I’d carried all morning. The occasional clink of coins in my pouch reminded me that this outing was mine to control. Unlike at the estate, where every move felt scrutinized or dictated, here, I had a say.

We passed by a vendor selling bolts of exquisite fabric, their rich colors catching the sunlight. Emiko gasped, tugging gently at my sleeve.

“Milady, look at this!” She pointed to a deep crimson silk embroidered with gold threads. “This would make a stunning evening gown.”

I stepped closer, running my fingers over the smooth fabric. “How much for this one?” I asked the vendor.

“For you, my lady,” he said with a practiced smile, “five ryo.”

I raised a brow at the steep price. “Four, and I’ll take two yards,” I countered.

He hesitated, clearly torn between sealing the deal and holding out for more. Finally, he nodded. “Four ryo it is.”

Reaching into my pouch, I retrieved the coins and handed them over. The transaction felt satisfying, a small but significant reminder of my independence.

Emiko watched the exchange with wide eyes. “Milady, you’re so confident. I’ve never seen someone bargain so effortlessly.”

I smiled faintly. “If you don’t know the value of something, someone else will decide it for you. That’s a lesson I learned young.”

As the vendor wrapped the fabric, I felt the familiar prickling sensation of being watched again. Turning my head slightly, I caught sight of the guard still trailing us at a discreet distance. My fingers tightened around the pouch at my waist, irritation bubbling anew.

“Let’s keep moving,” I said, my tone clipped. Emiko followed without question, her cheerful demeanor softening the edges of my frustration.

The next shop we entered was filled with sparkling jewelry, the pieces displayed under soft candlelight to enhance their brilliance. My gaze fell on a delicate necklace adorned with a single emerald, its simplicity drawing me in.

“How much for this one?” I asked.

The jeweler hesitated, sizing me up before naming a price. I didn’t bother haggling this time, simply pulling the appropriate amount from my pouch. Emiko watched with admiration as I paid, her enthusiasm almost childlike as she admired the necklace.

“It’s beautiful, milady,” she said. “It suits you perfectly.”

I held it up, watching the light catch on the emerald. “Perhaps,” I murmured, slipping it into a small velvet pouch before tucking it away.

By the time we returned to the carriage, my pouch was significantly lighter, but my mood was brighter. Emiko chattered happily as we climbed inside, her hands carefully holding the wrapped fabric.

“Do you always carry your own money, milady?” she asked as the carriage started to move.

I glanced at her, amused by the question. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well,” she said hesitantly, “most ladies rely on their husbands to—”

I cut her off with a soft laugh, shaking my head. “Not me. My father may have treated me like a pawn, and my husband may not care enough to notice, but I’ll never rely on anyone to take care of me. If I want something, I’ll earn it—or pay for it myself.”

Emiko smiled, her admiration clear. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever served, milady. It’s... inspiring.”

Her words were a small comfort, a reassurance that even in a world where I often felt unseen.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯Chapter 2⋯⋅๑┈•✦

[batfamily14]

My personal take on how anger looks on the batboys part.1:

Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson is eerily silent when he’s angry, which feels almost uncharacteristic for him. Instead of letting his emotions out, he broods and intentionally withdraws, refusing to give his attention to those he’s upset with. He bottles everything up until it inevitably explodes, leading to messy arguments that often leave everyone involved feeling emotionally drained.

The worst part is when he smiles—because it’s not the playful grin everyone’s used to. It’s chilling. That’s when you know he’s on the edge. It’s a warning, and if you push him past that, he can raise his voice in a way that cuts through the air—loud, rough, and sharp.

Dick’s also got a sailor’s mouth when he’s truly frustrated. If you push him far enough, he’ll swear like nobody’s business. It’s best to give him space when he’s like this, because the storm has already started, and there’s no telling when it’ll pass.

Jason Todd:

Depending on the situation, Jason Todd is the kind of person who’ll laugh when you cry. It’s harsh, but he makes no apologies for it. If you pick a fight with him and start breaking down, he WILL laugh in your face. No sympathy, no remorse—just a bitter kind of humor.

When he’s angry, Jason’s vocabulary becomes a weapon. He swears with precision, using every curse word in the book, and that’s when you’ll see his temper come to life. He’s the type to get right up in your face, towering over you, radiating pure rage. If his face turns red and his hands start shaking, you’d better get out of the room because he’s on the verge of snapping.

Jason’s also a master at reading people. If the fight goes deep enough, he’ll start picking apart your insecurities, one by one, with cold, brutal efficiency. The longer you push, the more he’ll dig in and exploit your weaknesses.

And, unsurprisingly, Jason’s a screamer. When he’s angry, he doesn’t bottle things up like Dick—he’ll let you know exactly how he feels, right then and there. His emotions are raw and explosive, and he won’t hesitate to unleash them on whoever’s unfortunate enough to be in his path.

[talkdutchtome]

"You're my forever" - Max Verstappen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader )

genre . . . angst with fluffy end )

wc . . . 1250 words )

read my other work . . . here )

request something . . . here )

It was supposed to be a chill night out with your girlfriends, but when you turned up to the bar in tears; things ended up taking a turn. It only took a few tequila shots to spill what was on your mind to your friends. You and your boyfriend Max had gotten into a huge argument as you were getting ready to go out. You had been planning to introduce him to your parents for weeks now, and thanks to his busy schedule it had taken such a long time to find a date that suited everyone; but you had managed it. You found a date that worked and arranged everything, it was finally going to happen. Until Max informed you that he actually needed to be in the factory that day and therefore wasn’t going to make it.  

As the argument with Max replayed in your mind, you couldn't help but feel the surge of frustration all over again. It hurt, a lot. This was so important to you, and he knew that, you had checked he was free multiple times but he waited until two days before to tell you that he wasn’t going to make it. He had dismissed your feelings, brushing off the significance of meeting your parents as if it were inconsequential. Your patience had worn thin with his constant excuses and last-minute cancellations. The tension between you had been simmering for weeks, and this was just the tipping point. 

In the heat of the argument, harsh words were exchanged, wounds were reopened, and insecurities surfaced. You questioned the commitment of your relationship, wondering if Max truly understood your needs and priorities. Each accusation fuelled the fire of resentment, leaving both of you wounded and emotionally drained. 

But as you recounted the events to your friends, their sympathetic ears and flowing drinks provided a temporary escape from the pain. With each shot of tequila, the sharp edges of your hurt dulled, and the weight of disappointment lifted. Laughter replaced tears as you immersed yourself in the lively atmosphere of the bar, surrounded by the warmth of friendship. 

As the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, you found yourself sinking deeper into a drunken haze. Your laughter became louder, your movements more unsteady, until you could barely stand on your own two feet. Your friends exchanged concerned glances as they realized you had gone past the point of no return. 

With a collective decision, they reached for their phones, dialling Max's number in a bid to get you home safely. It didn't take long for him to arrive at the bar, concern etched on his face as he scanned the crowded room for you. 

When he finally spotted you, his heart squeezed with a mixture of worry and affection. You were slumped against the bar, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes glazed over. As he approached, you caught sight of him and instinctively turned away, crossing your arms and pouting like a sulking child. 

Max couldn't help but chuckle softly at the sight of you. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't deny how adorable you looked, even in your drunken state. He settled down beside you, gently coaxing you to look at him and assuring you that everything was going to be okay. 

For a while, you remained stubbornly silent, refusing to acknowledge his presence. But as Max persisted, his patient demeanour slowly chipped away at your defences. Eventually, you relented, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulders and guide you out of the bar. 

The cool night air hit you like a refreshing wave, momentarily sobering you up as Max led you to his car. Exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the evening, you leaned heavily against him, your eyelids drooping with fatigue. As Max settled you into the passenger seat, you couldn't fight the overwhelming urge to rest your head on his shoulder. With a gentle smile, he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead before starting the engine and driving off into the night. 

As the car rolled down the familiar streets towards your home, Max stole glances at you, his heart heavy with concern. He wanted to address the issues that had caused the argument earlier, but seeing your bleary-eyed state, he knew it wasn't the right time. Instead, he focused on getting you back safely. 

Once inside your apartment, Max gently guided you to your bedroom, helping you out of your party clothes and into your cozy pajamas. With practiced care, he wiped away the remnants of makeup from your face, knowing how much you disliked waking up with a face caked in cosmetics. 

As he tucked you into bed, Max couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the hurt he had caused you. He wished he could turn back time and make things right, but for now, all he could do was ensure you were comfortable and cared for. 

The next morning, you stirred from your slumber, the events of the previous night slowly coming back to you in fragmented memories. As you blinked blearily, your gaze fell upon the glass of water and painkillers sitting on your bedside table. 

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you realized what Max had done. Despite the unresolved tensions between you, his gesture spoke volumes about his concern for your well-being. With a grateful sigh, you reached for the glass, downing the painkillers in one gulp before sipping the water. 

As you stepped into the kitchen, the comforting aroma of your favorite breakfast filled the air, and your heart swelled with gratitude towards Max. He stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a focused expression, and you couldn't help but admire the way he effortlessly took care of you. 

"Hey," you greeted softly, offering him a warm smile. 

Max turned towards you, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "Hey there, sleepyhead. How are you feeling this morning?" 

You shrugged, trying to downplay any lingering effects of the previous night's festivities. "Not too bad, actually. Thanks for asking." 

"Good," Max replied, his expression softening with relief. He moved to sit beside you, his hand finding yours as he spoke. "Listen, about last night... I'm really sorry for not prioritizing our relationship. I know meeting your parents was important, and I should've made more of an effort to be there for you." 

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, a wave of understanding washing over you. "It's okay, Max. I appreciate you saying that." 

He sighed, his gaze earnest as he continued. "I've rescheduled my day at the factory so I can make it to the meeting with your parents. And I promise, from now on, I'll make more time for us. I know racing won't last forever, but you... you're my forever. And I need to treat you better" 

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you listened to Max's heartfelt words. Despite the challenges you faced, his unwavering love and commitment never faltered, and you felt a surge of gratitude for having him in your life. 

"I love you, Max," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. 

"I love you too," he murmured, pulling you into a tender embrace. 

As you melted into his arms, surrounded by the warmth of his love and the promise of a brighter future together, you couldn’t help but be thankful to have somebody who loved you so much in your life 

[azaharinflames]

Okay, I come here for my weekly post-ep delulu. It usually comes on Thursday, but I was in a state of shock and, honestly, I was feeling emotionally drained, so. Now it is when I can finally verbalise something I've been suspecting for a while, but that I saw a bit more possible after yesterday's ep.

I think (heavily on something I think, I'm not saying it's a definitive thing) that the show is gearing up to, potentially, have Buck be the new Captain.

Now, per Tim's words, we know the captaincy question won't be answered this season. We'll have an interim Captain (Gerard, this we know), but he'll be there temporarily. The new Captain will be something we'll see come Season 9. So. From here on.

I know a lot of us also wanted to see Hen in this position. And if they go with Hen, please know I will be fucking ecstatic, because I think she deserves it and has worked so incredibly hard for it. But I also think that the incidents from 805, and her NDE in 815, and even the way that almost losing Mara was tied to her job... well, that might make her step down, or decide that captaincy is not what is best for her family. And if the show chooses this path for her, I will only be able to respect that and her choice. Because she deserves to finally be happy with her family, and I get that she does not want to jeopardize it. Even more so after Bobby's sudden passing. I think living through that might put her off the desire for captaincy, and it would ultimately make sense.

However... this past ep also let us see a glimpse of the opposite. Of how this tragedy might motivate someone to step up, take care of everyone, and be a leader. To fight for his people the same way Bobby did. Not only because that's just inherently who he is, but because we have Bobby using their last moments together to tell him he's gonna be okay, that their people will need him.

And that person is Buck.

Buck, who took control of the situation quickly, who has been taking control more and more lately, and who has been shown to be increasingly more comfortable with that. Buck, who has, quite obviously, taken the role of caretaker during this season. I will revisit this a bit later, but the important point to make here is that the foundation is there. Buck immediately went to Athena and started fighting for his team, and they didn't stop until (almost) all of them were out. Buck, who in the preview has already been shown to go and check on Chimney, make sure he can help him.

(I know Oliver mentioned something changing for Buck professionally, but personally, I think that was a reference to losing Bobby, and not to becoming Captain just yet)

Truth of the matter is that I've always believed the end of the series would see Buck as Captain (whether that was in the 118 or, if Hen was Captain there, starting over in a different house). I think that, narratively, that makes the most sense, given that we start the show during his probationary period. Granted, I had not imagined it going down like this, but I've been seeing the potential for a long while, and last night's episode kinda cemented that for me.

They had Bobby quite literally passing down the torch to Buck. Whether that is purely on a moral level or whether that will also bleed into the firehouse, we'll see. But I think it's quite possible that Season 9 will see Captain Buckley, and that his big storyline of the season will be adapting to that. It will also make sense to have this happen to mark the start of a new era, one without Bobby.

Now, as for my guess on how this would work in general:

I think that by making Buck captain, they would also be giving him more mature storylines (which, I think, would feel natural with his character's progression). I think there would be sort of two categories in the firehouse; the OGs (Hen, Chim, Buck and Eddie if he comes back), and then the newest additions (I will include Ravi here because if he becomes a main, it also means a new start for his character. I also think there is a big possibility of having a Grant kid join the firehouse). I think this would feel like a sort of natural progression (by the start of Season 9, Buck will have been at the 118 for almost ten years. He cannot be the puppy-dog of the station much longer).

On a personal level, I personally believe Tim very much intends to settle Buck down with Tommy. Of course, they will have their issues, as every couple in this show does, but I think the intention to have Buck settle in his personal life and be in an unknown world in his professional life might be the move Tim is making. Especially because, as I mentioned before, we've constantly seen Buck feeding and taking care of his team. But the show is making a point of highlighting how Tommy is the only one doing that for Buck.

Also, a small addition to back this up, having Tommy be the sole witness of Buck breaking down is very interesting and very intentional. Because (unless I'm wrong) it speaks of Tommy being the only one able to see through Buck's bs. It also gives Buck someone safe, someone he can break apart with, and someone who he doesn't have to be strong for. The show starting to establish that in 815 feels very important to me.

I don't know. Please feel free to tell me if I'm being too delulu but like, I think this has some potential of eventually happening.

[almostempty]

dieter's party (dieter x f!reader)

Dieter’s party (dieter bravo x f!reader) | wc: 3k | other fics 

summary: after fighting with your bf and reluctantly attending a party, you find yourself complaining to the host who offers to let you sleep off your emotional hangover headache in the pool house. when your boyfriend finally shows up, it’s a welcome surprise and you accept his apology in the form of sex. but, when you wake up in the morning you’re faced with another surprise. 

note: this is my other version of the accidental adultery trope, only it’s the involuntary cheating/wrong bed trope bc that’s what i thought the prompt was originally! other version is here with stalker!frankie. (this is like a month late for the actual challenge but time is an illusion idc; it’s for u bb @auteurdelabre) 

warnings/tags: explicit mdni, smut, this IS noncon– but it’s not dark vibes (like how the wrong bed trope in media is somehow played off as a ~hehe whoops~ ???), infidelity/cheating, oral sex, piv, prone bone, drugs mentioned at the party but reader and dieter are sober, boyfriend frankie, again, i repeat, this is noncon- but they’re not real and also they’re into it, REAL LOOSEY GOOSEY flimsy plot pls don’t poke at it there are already enough holes to drain ur pasta, kind of ooc dieter tbh  

standard warnings for me at this point: unprotected sex with no consequences bc it’s fiction; f!reader is able-bodied otherwise, no specific descriptions; no y/n, likely many mistakes aka no beta and limited editing on this bish 

You sit sideways on the lounge chair, digging your toes into the sand and massaging your temples. The voices from the party behind you are easier to tune out as you look out over the water. The adrenaline rush of your anger has passed, and now you’re just left with a throbbing headache. 

It’s not a bad view. But you resent it anyway. You’ve been abandoned by your friend who dragged you to the party in the first place. She’d assured you that it would be low key, just some people on mushrooms having a bonfire on a private beach. The names and the drugs didn’t sell you on it, but the free night at a fancy beach house was appealing

You didn’t know anyone else, and she’d assured you she’d stick with you until your boyfriend showed up. But so far nothing had gone to plan. The cute little beach house is actually more like a mansion. There is technically a fire on the beach and people on some kind of hallucinogenics, but there’s also a party by the pool, and rooms filled with people on the main floor of the house. 

Your friend folded immediately–swooped up by the hot production assistant that told her about the party. You weren’t keen to follow them as they disappeared in search of a quieter room in the house to play tonsil hockey. 

You don’t really blame her. Your boyfriend was supposed to be meeting you anyway. Or, at least, he was before you’d got in another argument before he went to work. You’re miserable when the two of you are on bad terms. 

Frankie and you are both stubborn and can dig your heels in over the smallest arguments. Currently, you don’t actually know if he’s giving you the silent treatment or if he’s just working late. Either way, you figure you’re allowed to be a little pathetic over the situation. 

Yet, you can’t even slink off to have your moody moment watching the waves and the stars. Someone is walking up behind you causing you to sigh. Stiffening, you turn to address none other than the life of the party himself, Dieter Bravo. 

He’s undeniably nice to look at, but you’re still moping. Emotionally hungover and irritable. And stuck at loaded jagoff’s party full of nobody you particularly want to get to know. 

“Party is that way,” you point past him towards the pool surrounded by drunk people with shiny white veneers and ugly jewelry. He’s unfazed by your snark and sits down next to you. 

“Thought you could use some company.” His voice is low and sexy in a stupid movie star way that makes you roll your eyes. 

“That’s not even a clever line,” you chastise him. 

He flashes a grin at you that makes it hard to keep up the glum aura. 

Whatever they say about actors looking better in person rather than on camera is true, and even more so when they’re sitting so close you can smell their expensive cologne. He’s dressed more casually than the rest of the party, but you wonder if it’s part of the quiet luxury mystique with the four hundred dollar t-shirts or if you’re overestimating his net worth. 

Dieter likes a challenge. The more you try to shut him down, the more he turns on the charm and flirts with you brazenly. You aren’t immune. He’s fucking hot, and that builds up your ego. You figure it’s harmless to flirt. You’re busy complaining about the social climbers in attendance and how they must be inflating the ego of whichever rich asshole is throwing the party, when he cuts you off. 

“And which one are you? Social climber or rich asshole?” He asks, squinting at you like he’s going to take a guess. You play into it, making a few exaggerated model poses–framing your face with your hands and batting your lashes–for him to base his decision off of. 

He grins at you with a dazzling smile that makes you break character and laugh. But he doesn’t laugh with you. He just keeps his eyes on you, his sparkling dark brown eyes. Suddenly the moment feels charged, you didn’t realize you were so close, face to face. 

“Time’s up,” you say, “I’m neither.” But he’s looking at your lips now and you’re hyper aware of your heart beating faster. Until his hand slips onto your knee and you balk, turning away with a sharp inhale to recenter yourself. 

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” you give him a glare and he frowns briefly. 

“Like that’s real,” he scoffs and turns to watch his pseudo-girlfriend flirting with someone by the pool whose hair gel shines under the string lights. 

“Oh.” You didn’t realize. “Sorry.” 

For a moment, there’s a vulnerability between the two of you that draws you in, wondering what’s behind the curtain with Dieter. His hand, still resting on your knee, squeezes you slightly, and you snap out of his spell. “Well, my boyfriend most certainly is real,” you say. “Unless he doesn’t show up tonight,” you mutter, “then maybe he won’t be much longer.” 

Dieter hesitates as if he might have something to add, but you grimace. You don’t want to answer any follow-up questions. He’s too close for you to think clearly. You stand, brushing off his hand, and give him a smile. “I’m going to do a lap. Maybe find my friend or my boyfriend before the sun comes up,” you sigh and give him a final look before you walk back towards the house. 

Eventually, Dieter follows. 

You go through the motions, introducing yourself to people, laughing along with whoever you find yourself standing next to, and always staying aware of Dieter’s presence. You avoid his path as the two of you mingle and socialize with different clusters of people. But you keep finding yourself catching his eye in every room you enter. 

You weave through the house, pilfering some snacks and avoiding anyone’s attempts to talk one on one. You catch a glimpse of your friend, still entangled with her work crush, and continue on your path. 

The later it gets, the less tolerance you have for the other partygoers. You find yourself back on the chair on the beach. Alternating between staring at your phone, debating composing a text to Frankie, and watching the waves break along the shore. 

It’s not long before your suitor returns, joining you on the lounge chair again. Just as close, if not closer, than earlier in the evening. 

“No luck?” he asks. 

“Avoiding you?” you quip, and he shakes his head. 

“Finding your friends.” 

“Friend or boyfriend,” you emphasize for both of your sake, but he only smiles in return. “What about you? No luck with… whatever your goal was?” you ask. 

He sighs deeply at that. “There’s no goal. I’m just the host.” 

“Oh,” you blink. “I didn’t know this was your…thing,” you wave your hand towards the party. 

“Would you have treated me differently if you knew?” 

“Worse, maybe?” you laugh genuinely. “I’ve got a few complaints to lodge. Too many people, too loud, nobody is any fun,” you list them off on your fingers, “honestly–” 

“Why are you here?” he cuts you off. 

“I don’t know,” you pause to think about the real answer. “Thought it would be better than being miserable at home, a friend convinced me, thought it would be fun to stay at a fancy beach house with my boyfriend. Some combination of those?” 

You pick at something invisible on your dress. Avoiding the heat of Dieter’s gaze. “Now, I’m just stuck outside with a headache. Why are you here?” you counter. 

“I just told you. Did you take something from the guy in the studded jacket?” 

“No. I mean, why are you outside with me? Aren’t there drugs you could be doing? Or there was that guy begging you to do body shots in the kitchen?” 

“Kind of bored of it all,” he muses, scratching thoughtfully at his bearded jaw. 

“Maybe you need a more intellectually stimulating scene,” you suggest. It was more a grumpy dig at the belligerent attendees, but he seems to be genuinely considering your suggestion. You let yourself ogle his handsome features as he thinks. Then his eyes light up and he snaps his head towards you.  

“Do you want to go to the pool house?” he asks. 

Your eyes narrow into a fierce glare and he raises his hands in surrender. “No, I mean there’s a bed. You said you have a headache. If you want to lie down.” 

“That’s not where the orgy is happening?” 

“No,” he snorts, “I think there’s a sex party across the street, though, if you’re interested,” he smirks at you. You roll your eyes at him exaggeratedly and give him a playful shove. “You wish, Bravo.” 

You take him up on the offer to lie down, though. There’s a code to unlock the pool house, giving you a private little escape. 

You decide to send the code to Frankie, letting him know you’ll be here all night. Hoping he still decides to show up. You enlist Dieter’s help. He repeats after you, “Broad, brooding, brown hair, brown eyes?” 

“Exactly,” you confirm. “If you see him, tell him where he can find me?” 

“Of course,” he agrees with a chuckle. 

You spring to your feet, eagerly seeking out your solitude. Halfway across the yard you look back over your shoulder to mouth thank you at your generous host. He gives you a nod and a wink that is criminally hot. 

You let yourself in and explore the space. It’s bigger than your apartment. You pass the living space and mini kitchen, down the hall to find the bedroom. It’s like a luxury hotel suite. You slip out of your shoes and crawl directly into the bed. 

Dieter is still dumbstruck by you. Your our smile, your prickly yet playful aura, your sexy confidence. He lingers outside, caught up in his daydream of you, before he resigns himself to circling back through the house. He shares a few stories, laughs at some jokes, and does his best to enjoy the rest of the night. But his eyes constantly wander back to the the pool house. 

He’s drawn to it like a moth. Except–it’s dark. The lights are off. 

You’re wrapped up in a down duvet and crisp, clean linens. The noise from outside is significantly dulled, most people filtered back into the main house or down to the beach. 

You drift into a hazy slumber, fading in and out. Unsure of the time, too stubborn to check your phone afraid of being disappointed the sun rises before you hear from your boyfriend. It’s still dark out whenever you peek at the windows though, so you keep drifting back off, hoping to wake up to your man. You’re rolling over to stretch, once again, when you hear a soft knock on the door. 

“Yeah?” you reply, not fully awake. 

The door swings open, and he can see you in the glow of the light from the hall. 

You’re luminous even in the near dark, and he pauses before the critical thinking skills come to life and he can see the scowl on your face. “Sorry,” he starts. 

Dieter had been wavering since you walked away from him. Wondering if he was reading the right signals. If you looked back hoping he was following. If he was the brown eyed prince you were really waiting for. Now he worries that he waited too long in his indecision. 

You squint, eyes aching from the bright light in the hallway, only able to make out the silhouette of the broad shoulders in the doorway. 

“Sorry, I thought you might still be up,” he trails off, in that familiar gravelly voice. 

“Fucking finally,” you groan. “I thought you were going to just leave me here.” 

Finally? He was right. 

“Just get in here, please.” You toss the corner of the duvet back, inviting him in. 

He’s still smiling in the doorway, thinking of something perfect to say when you lose patience. 

“Look, you can either get in here and show me how sorry you are for making me wait for you all night, or you can fuck off–but don’t just stand in the doorway blinding me. Please.” You huff, covering your eyes and rolling onto your side to bury your face in the covers. 

You hear the door shut before you feel the familiar weight of his body slipping into the bed behind you, and it’s comforting to finally have Frankie here. You thought you’d be left tossing and turning until the sun came up. Wondering if he was upset or just late. 

He rests his hand on you, feather light but deliberate. You melt into his touch, stubborn words forgotten at the familiarity of his body heat. He moves slowly, tentatively caressing your shoulders as his nose grazes the back of your neck. 

“Finally,” you murmur sleepily, arching you back to press closer into him, moving on instinct. 

“Yeah?” his voice is low, husky and rich. Your favorite thing about him. 

“Mmhm,” you mumble, pushing back against him. “So late…” Your body responds to his presence, a heat stirring that’s impossible to ignore. 

Dieter’s ego flares. He knew there was something simmering behind your jabs. 

“You sure about this?” he whispers against your warm skin, hand sliding up your side. 

You assume he’s worried you’re still mad at him. Or maybe he thinks you’re too tired. You reassure him with whispered affirmations and a soft moan as your back arches instinctually, pressing closer to him, drawn to his warmth. 

It’s the breathy please that spears hot down his spine. Hearing you beg for him, it’s more permission than he needs. He kisses your neck, unhurried, letting his lips linger on your skin as his hands move along the dips and curves of your body. There’s a tenderness in his touch that surprises even him. 

He doesn’t rush, savoring the sounds you make, the way your body responds, and hoe pliant you are for him. Encouraged, he moves lower, rolling you onto your back, and settling between your legs. The sensations are overwhelming. Blurring the lines between dream and reality as he goes down on you with expert precision. 

He always knows how to make it up to you without needing words. You run a hand through his hair and when he groans against your soft, wet cunt it draws you to the edge. He’s greedy as you shudder and wriggle beneath him, eagerly sucking at your clit until it’s all too much. Lost in the moment, you’re floaty, murmuring praise between moans as you come undone beneath his skilled mouth. 

When you tell him to fuck you, he doesn’t hesitate. He rolls you onto your stomach, sliding his cock through your sopping folds, coating himself in the mix of your arousal and his saliva. 

“Oh, fuck,” his raw desire for you makes your tongue go numb. Unable to respond, until he starts to ease into you and the stretch, the angle, the intimacy of his body covering yours–it makes you both groan loudly. He fits against you so perfectly. You’re too drunk with the pleasure to question any unusual differences. 

Too lost in the heat of it all. He presses kisses into your spine while thrusting slowly, languidly, and deeply inside of you. When he lowers his chest against your back you can feel his heart beating loudly, like it’s calling to yours. With the heightened sensations and his velvety rich voice in your ear, he urges you closer and closer to a hypnotically intense, rolling orgasm. 

When your thighs tremble beneath him and you beg him to come for you, his body responds like he’s under your spell. Throbbing and pulsing inside of you until his weight collapses on you. He rolls you to you side with him, staying connected, limbs tangled like vines and he’s mesmerized by you. Listening to your breathing as you fall asleep in his arms, sated and secure. 

When you wake up in the morning, groggy and confused, the first thing you notice is the wrong smell. It’s not your boyfriend’s–it’s Dieter’s. Cold panic floods your body as you realize you’re in the wrong man’s arms. You try to pull away but Dieter’s still asleep, trapping you under his heavy arm. 

A dense, searing mix of guilt and arousal swirls within you like lava as you register his hard cock pressed against you and your recollection of the night starts to clarify. It makes you hesitate. 

Dieter, feeling your movement, tightens his grip around you and shifts. He’s hard and leaking against you and your traitorish pussy is slick between your legs, throbbing like a siren song for him to fill you up again. 

His body unconsciously grinds against you. Your heart races, mind scrambling to make sense of everything. Every kiss, every touch, the way he’d been so gentle and tender. It wasn’t your boyfriend at all. But he made you feel so desired, cherished. Things you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Your breath catches in your throat. The shock is dizzying, but there’s a quiet moment of mutual awareness as his breathing changes. You know he’s awake. Waiting on you before he dares to move again. 

Without thinking you press back against him, heart fluttering in your chest. It’s instantaneous. He flips you around and you’re finally facing him in the soft light. Barely able to take in his besotted expression before your lips are drawn together in an impassioned kiss. 

Your mutual arousal reignites like a blazing fire in the quiet early morning. It’s wrong. But in that moment, the connection between you feels inevitable. It’s as if it had always been building, a force of nature you couldn’t stop. 

The shock and guilt fall to the side. Regret doesn’t get enough light to grow. The anger at your boyfriend’s absence whispers convincingly in your ear. 

None of it matters when you lower yourself onto his cock, eyes fluttering shut, as his hands knead your thighs. None of it matters when you watch the lust cloud his eyes and his plush lips part as you start to move. None of it matters until you’re startled by the jarring sound of your phone buzzing on the night stand. 

You’re frozen in place as the buzzing continues. Dieter grabs the phone, reading the name on the screen. His other hand trails over your hip moving with purpose until his thumb draws a slow, firm circle around your clit. 

“You better answer,” he says, handing the phone to you, “think it’s your boyfriend.”

dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

General tags 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange

[alltheboysandgirlsiloved]

It's super interesting that despite both of them choosing not to chase after Brooklynn, Kenji and Sammy have slightly different reasons for that decision. And it speaks volumes about their personalities.

Kenji's reason is exhaustion that manifests through the lack of trust, meanwhile Sammy's reason is feeling betrayed. (explanation under the cut)

Yes, at first, Kenji felt betrayed (rightfully so), but in his experience, it was just yet another... fierce emotion that he felt towards Brooklynn. Kenji experienced Brooklynn through a string of passion and life-altering events – falling deeply in love, losing her emotionally, losing her physically, grieving over her, even learning that she was alive was brutal. Dare I say... he is tired of going through a windmill of emotions because of one person, and truth being told that it is valid. I don't think it's even fully internalized, but my boy is simply emotionally drained. No wonder that the sense of betrayal sizzled out quickly – he had invested too much already, he doesn't have the energy to fight and protect his heart yet another time.

At the same time, a massive part of Kenji's plotline in jwct (in jwcc too to some extent) is learning how and who to trust – it started with his father (jwcc), then it was Darius (jwct s1), at the end of jwct season 2 and at the beginning of season 3 – it was Ben. Kenji is quick to doubt people's intentions (makes sense considering his past) and he has to put a lot of physical and emotional effort into trusting someone again. Which is why him trusting Darius again is so beautiful, which is what makes his goodbye with Ben so heartwarming – despite all, Kenji crossed the bridge and chose to trust them again. But Brooklynn didn't give him a reason to try again. Instead, he feels tired of chasing a ghost – not in the physical sense, but in the emotional sense. He's just out of energy.

On the other hand, Sammy feels utterly betrayed by Brooklynn's behaviour, and that also makes sense for Sammy's past and personality. Sammy is much more than her love and kindness, but we need to admit that "family" – all types of families – is what she puts faith in. Again, it all started in jwcc – remember that she went to camp cretaceous behind her family's back, in a way she betrayed them for a better good. Yes, she found a new family there but that choice also bit her in the ass – ultimately, her initial actions didn't bring the results she was aiming for (even though in jwcc s5 at the end we learn that Sammy's family provides Mantah Corp Island with meat). Sammy was a family person even before that, but after her Nublar experience, dare I say, family became even more important for her. She realized that staying with people you love is what makes you stronger.

And then, she was suddenly alone. She no longer spoke with her family members, Yaz was distancing herself from her, Brooklynn was "dead", and the rest of their friends were trying to find a way to live their lives in this new reality. Sammy was left alone, abandoned. Her argument with Yaz... She was right, Yaz should have put more consideration and understanding into her situation; Sammy completely lost her footing. At the same time, Yaz made a good point – Sammy's animosity towards Brooklynn in season 3 is absolutely tied with her past experience – both with her family and with Yaz. And it all finally bubbled to the surface. In Texas, Sammy focused on running a farm. She distracted herself. Then, when she and Ben picked up Yaz, the positive feelings (overall) outweighed the negative ones. But when Brooklynn left them at that airport, Sammy (maybe for the first time) saw someone physically walk away from her and it brought back everything she buried in herself out of love. She is not just betrayed by Brooklynn, she probably also feels betrayed by life.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ

Summary: You make for a good distraction when things get tough. Sukuna's fingers may be bitter, but your kisses are sweet.

Pairing: Itadori x GN!Reader

Tags: fluff, light angst, hurt and comfort, developing relationships, sfw

-----

The fingers of Sukuna are an ugly sight; burnt burgundy and twistedly decrepit, crowned with a pointed black nail that scratches at Itadori’s throat whenever he swallows one. The taste is even worse, akin to someone soaking an old cigar in cloudy mop water before clumsily preserving it in candle wax.

It takes all his strength to not pucker his face and dig his nails into the column of his neck whenever the soapy wax flavor hits his tongue. Every fiber of his body would react to reject the intrusion. The lingering aftertaste was another issue. He couldn’t erase it by scraping his tongue against his teeth; burying it with sweet or spicy foods after a mission only helped so much, leaving him to wait until it disappeared on its own as the hours past. He thought it would get easier every time; and for a while, it did.

Until it didn't.

He wanted to stop. But he couldn't stop, not after all this, not until he eats them all, not until he makes everyone's suffering mean something.

So, when he’s about to eat another finger after a grueling, emotionally draining late-evening mission, he braces himself.

As always, the flavor is waxxy, almost non-existent, then putrid when he accidentally bites down. His body knee jerks to react, gag reflex hiccuping and stomach bile rising to reject it, to tell him to spit it out. He closes his eyes tight and squeezes at his throat to loosen the straining muscles, begging his body to hurry up and accept it so it would end faster. Sukuna and everything that comes with eating these cursed objects. It doesn’t want to give in this time, and he squats as if it could help and also because he's so tired of this.

Suddenly, there’s a subtle sweetness, like fruit on the tongue, cutting through the taint. It’s an easy succor to chase and mold to while a comforting force travels up his neck and over his hands, gently forcing them to drop so it can replace them. This touch eventually settles under his bottom eyelids, smooth crescents drawing right along his cheekbones.

This taste is not exactly as strong as the sugar and spice that he normally uses to cover up the filthy flavor in his mouth but there’s something relaxing about the warmth that accompanies it and settles against his lips. Prayers answered, his clenching throat relaxes, allowing him to swallow, and his body quickly adapts to the new addition. 

When the sensation stops, Itadori can finally open his eyes.

It’s you.

You’re here, kneeling in front of him and glowing against the dark backdrop of the night that you’re a little blinding to his lagging mind. 

How could he forget that you came here with him?

There’s a soft silence flowing between you, and he only now notices that you’re holding his face. However, he doesn’t feel the need to make you let go as heat creeps up his skin and his heart begins to echo in his chest, temporarily numbing his mind from the sour aftereffects of eating Sukuna’s fingers.

“Better?” you ask with a small tilt of your head.

Itadori is caught off-guard by the question, feeling a bit dazed and more than a little confused.

“It’s…better,” he eventually mumbles so quietly that his voice gets buried under the breeze. “Thanks.”

His eyes drift lower on your face, finding your lips. He fights the blush threatening to overtake him as he takes in the reddish shine on your lips and pieces together what happened.

“Strawberry?” he hoarsely asks, half-jokingly and half because he feels as if he needs to say something, or else it would be awkward, wouldn’t it?

“Cherry, actually,” you correct with a tiny smile.

“Oh,” he exclaims, his cheeks still a pretty pink as he wonders if the kiss was something you wanted to do. He wonders why it made him feel so much better. He wonders if that would be something you do next time or if this was simply a one-off action thought of in the heat of the moment. He also wonders, for a moment, if he deserved it.

“Could you…” he begins then hesitates.

Is he even allowed to ask such a thing?

“Do that again?” He requests and shamefully palms at his chest for daring to ask for something so personal. “It’s uhm, the aftertaste.”

It’s partially the truth and partially because he wants to figure out why.

Nodding, you give in more readily than he expects and lean in to kiss him again. This time he dares to press the tip of his tongue against your lips, too nervous and confused to breach between them.

You’re right. It’s sweet, slightly tart, blatantly artificial, but so much better than anything else he can imagine right now. Yet he doesn't think it's the gloss causing his body to ease, if only a little.

When you pull away, he finds his mind finally catching up and blushes at the fact your lips are still so close to his. Exhaling slowly, he tries to ignore the dull ache still bubbling in his chest in exchange for thinking about the taste you left behind, the one that makes soft emotions emerge from his heart like a butterfly from its cocoon when he looks at you.

“Yeah…" he reinforces dreamily, letting the wind once again carry away his words, "It’s cherry.”

[kathlare]

shattered silence

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie tries to escape the weight of her emotions after a show in Vancouver, turning to alcohol and a night out with her band.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: just fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

April 9th, 2023 - Vancouver, Canada

The pulsating rhythm of the bass reverberated through Amelie's chest as the dimly lit club in Vancouver buzzed with life. Her band and tour crew had dragged her out for a much-needed night of celebration after her sold-out show the night before. The show had been incredible, but Amelie was running on fumes, emotionally and physically. Still, she let herself get swept up in the chaotic energy of the night, hoping the noise and tequila shots would drown out her growing restlessness.

—Another round!— one of her bandmates shouted, slamming his empty glass on the sticky table.

Amelie laughed, her head already spinning as a server arrived with more drinks. She grabbed hers—a vodka soda this time—and clinked it against everyone else's.

—To Vancouver!— she shouted over the music, throwing her head back as she drained the glass.

Her phone buzzed in her bag for the third time that night. She had ignored it the first two times, assuming it was Rodrigo checking in or some late-night email she didn’t have the energy to deal with. But this time, something compelled her to pull it out.

She swayed slightly as she unlocked her phone, her vision blurring for a moment before her inbox came into focus.

magui_corceiro: You're so fucking pathetic. Do you really think Lando still gives a shit about you? Move on, sweetheart. He’s with me now. Stop trying to insert yourself into his life like some desperate ex

Another message appeared as she read the first one.

magui_corceiro: Oh wait, you’re too busy pretending to be important, aren’t you? Or maybe too busy fucking Rodrigo, who doesn’t even realize he’s a rebound.

Amelie’s stomach churned, the alcohol amplifying the nausea that twisted her insides. Her chest tightened as she scrolled up to read the previous messages Magui had sent in recent weeks. They were all the same—insults, accusations, venomous reminders of how Lando was "hers now."

She had tried ignoring them. For weeks, she had convinced herself that Magui wasn’t worth her energy. But tonight, the dam broke. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the pent-up frustration of missing Lando and hating herself for still caring. Maybe it was the fact that she had spent years building a life she was proud of, only to have someone try to drag her back into a mess she never wanted.

Amelie’s fingers trembled as she read the latest messages, the words blurring together, and the weight of them settling heavily in her chest. Her breath caught in her throat, and the familiar bitterness of betrayal stirred inside her like a sharp ache.

Pathetic. Desperate ex. Rebound. Her stomach flipped with the accusation, a mix of anger and hurt rising to the surface.

She swallowed hard, gritting her teeth. She didn’t want to care. She didn’t need to care about Magui Corceiro or her toxic, petty messages. But it hurt. It fucking stung. It had been months since her last real conversation with Lando, years since they had drifted apart, but his presence still lingered in the most unexpected ways.

In the past, she would’ve laughed at messages like these, shrugged them off and moved on. But tonight? Tonight, she was already fighting the exhaustion that came with touring, missing home, and feeling like everything in her life was slowly slipping through her fingers. And these messages? They were the last straw.

She downed her drink in one go, wiping her lips with the back of her hand before standing up unsteadily.

—Fuck this,— she muttered, her voice barely audible over the pounding music.

Her bandmates noticed her sudden shift in mood but didn’t ask any questions. They were too busy enjoying the night, laughing and chatting among themselves. But Amelie felt too far gone to pretend everything was fine. She staggered toward the bar, her legs wobbling under her as she ordered another drink.

Another shot, she told herself. Just get drunk enough to forget about it. Forget about him. Forget about her.

The shots kept coming, and the night blurred into a mess of flashing lights, loud music, and an overwhelming sense of numbness. She didn’t care anymore. Let the alcohol do its work. Let the numbing fog take over.

By the time the club started to thin out, Amelie was far past tipsy. She was obliterated. She barely noticed her bandmates trying to get her to leave, or how they looked at each other with concern when they realized just how far gone she was.

Amelie barely registered the world around her as she stumbled out of the club. The cool Vancouver air slapped against her face, but it didn’t even phase her. She clung to her tour manager, who was trying his best to keep her from tripping over her own feet.

—You alright, Amelie?— he asked, voice tinged with concern, but she only waved him off.

—Yeah, yeah, I’m good, just need to get to the hotel,— she slurred, her words spilling out in a disjointed mess.

It was hard to concentrate with the alcohol clouding her mind, but the crushing weight of everything—Magui’s texts, Lando’s silence, her strained relationship with Rodrigo—was enough to make her want to crawl out of her skin. When they finally reached the hotel, she was too drunk to care about her surroundings. She pushed through the lobby, barely managing to thank the doorman before stumbling into the elevator.

Once inside her hotel room, she kicked off her heels and collapsed onto the bed, her head spinning. The overwhelming urge to scream was building inside her, but the alcohol dulled it down to a dull roar. She felt small and helpless, the weight of the night’s events threatening to swallow her whole.

The phone buzzing on the nightstand caught her attention. It was a message from Rodrigo asking how the night was going, but she ignored it, her thumb swiping over the contact list with blurry eyes. Her heart raced as she found what she was looking for—Lando’s name. She had never deleted him from her phone, not even after everything that had happened between them.

Her finger hovered over his name for a moment, a brief flash of sanity cutting through the haze. But she was done. Done pretending it didn’t hurt. Done pretending that the months of silence, the painful distance between them, hadn’t killed something inside her.

Without thinking, she pressed the call button.

The phone rang, and her pulse quickened. She could hear it ringing in her ears, louder and louder as she waited for him to pick up. She had no intention of letting him speak. Not this time.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the line connected. Lando’s voice, groggy and unsure, filled the air.

—Amelie?— he said, his tone guarded, but before he could say anything more, she cut him off.

—Don’t you dare say anything,— she hissed, her words slurred but full of venom. —I don’t want to hear your excuses, Lando. I don’t want to hear your voice telling me how sorry you are for ignoring me all these fucking months.—

Her voice cracked slightly, the rawness of it hitting her even as she tried to maintain her angry facade.

—Do you even know what your girlfriend is doing?— she continued, her words coming faster now, the alcohol making her reckless. —You let her send me all that shit about how I’m a desperate ex? Are you fucking kidding me? She’s harassing me, Lando, and you’re just letting it happen. You don’t even care.—

She paused for a moment, her chest heaving as the words tumbled out in a messy blur.

—I’m done being nice. You need to tell her to fucking stop, or I swear to God I’ll sue her. She’s crossed a line, and I won’t let her drag me into your stupid, fucked-up drama anymore.—

The silence on the other end of the line felt like it was choking her. She took a deep breath, her hands shaking as she gripped the phone tighter, trying to ground herself.

—I’m not some rebound for you, Lando,— she spat, bitterness flooding her voice. —And I’m not going to sit here and let her drag me through the mud because of whatever messed-up game you two are playing. I’m better than that. I always was.—

There was a long pause, but Amelie was too far gone to care if he spoke now. She couldn’t hear him through the fog in her mind, the alcohol still blurring everything. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath, but it was like she couldn’t stop herself. The anger, the hurt, the years of unspoken feelings and bad decisions had all spilled out in a drunken haze, and now it felt like she couldn’t turn it back.

—Amelie,— Lando’s voice was quieter now, almost defeated. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to fix anything.

—You don’t get to be sorry now, Lando,— she hissed. —Not after everything you’ve put me through. I’m done.—

With that, she slammed the phone down on the nightstand, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. The weight of everything—her frustration, her hurt, and her anger—had emptied out in that call, but it didn’t feel like it was enough. The emptiness in her chest remained, even as the buzz of the alcohol began to wear off.

Amelie lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing. She had never been so mad. Never been so desperate to make him understand. And yet, it still felt like it didn’t matter.

Lando was still with Magui. She was still stuck in the mess of emotions he had left behind.

And here she was, in a hotel room in Vancouver, screaming into the night at someone who would never truly understand how much she had loved him. How much she still fucking missed him.

[insight-chronicles]

Chapter 4 - Challenge Accepted

Word Count: 4.6k Content Warning: Swearing, Action, Mild Violence, Mentions of blood Summary: After a conversation with Jinwoo, you need to let off some steam

Authors Note: First time writing any kind of fight, so I hope it comes across well! Really wanted to get that in there so I could improve my writing skills beyond the romance/fluff stuff cus I’ve got an idea for a later chapter that really needs it.

AO3

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Thanks to the holiday weekend, and therefore the lack of staff on duty, you had been too busy to think too much about your disastrous date, your failed plan and of course Him. But it was Tuesday, again, and that meant you were back in the cafe sipping your chai latte listening to Aera complain about how busy the cafe had been over the weekend, and how people expected places to be open and running at full capacity on holiday weekends, despite no one wanting to work them. You'd already given her the lowdown on your date on Friday night when she knocked on your door once she’d closed the cafe; she’d been yawning the whole time but was determined to know what had happened. Aera had taken one look at your dishevelled look, hair and clothes all skewed and crumpled, eyes rimmed red from tears, turned around and stomped back down the hall leading to outside. You’d called after her, but she ignored you in typical Aera fashion, and you were in no state to go after her yourself. Instead, you tried phoning her, but it went straight to voicemail, you tried again, same result. You half expected not to hear anything until the news reported that a local coffee shop owner had attacked the head of a Guild. Instead, the next thing you know, there was another knock on the door, and there she stood again, but this time with tubs of ice cream in hand.

The two of you had sat on the sofa for the rest of the night talking whilst some crappy action film played on the TV, even though neither of you were paying attention to it. Turns out she was set to go beat up Yoonho, but thought she should get the details first so she knew how bad to make it hurt, you were glad she hadn't just gone out guns blazing. She was especially glad when she realised it would have been for no reason at all and your tears had nothing to do with Yoonho. You were even more glad when she didn’t push you for details when you said it was your past that had caused the tears. You had only just stopped crying, and you really didn't want to start again.

“Anyway, I'd better go get back to work, you wouldn't imagine how much coffee we used over the weekend, so I need to sort out getting some more in. As it's quiet, do you want another?” She gestures to your mug, you glance around the room and see that only 2 other tables are occupied, so few that you can block out their emotions and relax. Enjoying being out of the house for once, you nod. “Awesome, I'll get that made and bring it over before I start doing the inventory. And before you say anything, no you will not be paying for it.” She walks away before you can reply. You learnt a long time ago that there was no point in arguing with Aera, instead, you'll put the money for the extra drink in the tip jar when you leave.

As you wait for your drink, you pull out your book, you open it to find you're still on the same chapter you were when you tried to read it last week. You’ve been too exhausted and emotionally drained to read this past week.

“Here you go darling, pop your head round the back when you're leaving, will ya?” Aera places a fresh mug in front of you and gives you a hopeful smile.

“Of course I will, thank you for this.” She waves her fingers at you in goodbye as she leaves.

“Ah ha, you can't use the excuse that you are just leaving this time.” So much for reading your book, you place the bookmark back on the same page and take a deep breath before turning to the voice. Jinwoo. Why is he everywhere?

“Well, I could, but that would be a waste of a perfectly good drink.” The smile you give him is tight and forced. Despite all the signals telling him the opposite, he sets his drink down on the table and slides into the booth opposite you.

“You fascinate me, you know.” His elbow finds the table, and he leans his head on his hand, gazing at you intently like he's trying to solve a puzzle.

“Gee, that's just what every girl wants to hear.” There's a forced cheeriness to your voice.

“Well, what can I say? I'm a master of seduction.” You scoff, “Almost every other girl in the city is throwing themselves at me after the broadcast of the Jeju Island Raid. But not you. You seem to be repulsed to even be in the same room as me.” You roll your eyes at his conceitedness, “And you see the thing is, it's not even like you hate me because I didn't get to the island quick enough. You hated me before then. You hated me when you healed me 6 months ago. I want to know why?”

“Can your fragile ego not cope with one woman not falling at your feet?” you fake pout at him.

“My ego is anything but fragile, and you seem to know it based on the jabs you’ve made at me. You seem to know something I don't.”

“Who do you think I am, some stalker?”

“No, but you know something. Have we met before? You said you knew me when we last met. What did you mean by that? How do you know me?” You just stare at him, not entertaining this line of questioning. “Is it some fascination with Hunters? S-Rank Hunters? I know you went on a date with Hunter Baek.” was that, jealousy, you could hear in his tone.

“Why would I have a hunter fascination? I work at the association, I'm around them all day, why would I also want them in my personal life?”

“Hey, don’t ask me. You’re the one going on dates with them and saying you know me when all we’ve had is a couple of minutes' worth of conversation.” Jinwoo shrugs, a smug look on his face like he won a prize.

“Look, I don't want to play this game with you. If you say you don't know me, then, fine, you don’t know me. But don't expect me to hash it all out for you, not here, not now.” You finally managed to tear your gaze from his electric blue eyes. Even before he changed, you found them mesmerising. Now, everything about him has levelled up. You startle at the thought.

Leveled up? Could he be the player that joined? No, the System hasn't said anything. No EXP bonus. Nothing. It can't be him. Can it? It might explain why you have no perception of his feelings; maybe that skill doesn't work with other players. You've never met another player before to test the theory. The thoughts run rapidly through your head, barely giving you time to think about the first before another one occurs.

“What do you mean, if, I don't know. Before 6 months ago, I have no recollection of ever meeting you before. If not here and now, and when and where? I want to know. This connection, our connection, is driving me insane.” He reaches across the table, entwining his fingers with yours, pulling your hand away from the death grip you had on your mug. Sparks fly over your skin where he touches you, your nerve endings alive with electricity, sending pulses of pleasure up your arm, straight to your heart. He feels like he used to. He feels like home. No, you shake yourself, you cannot let yourself be pulled in by him. He forgot you; he doesn't deserve your forgiveness.

“Nowhere and never. You don't get to make me live through it again because you conveniently forgot. I'm not reliving that for your entertainment.” Despite this conversation bringing up the same memories as on your date with Yoonho, this time you're not on the verge of tears; you just want to punch something. Maybe you'll join a squad and take on a gate this afternoon.

“Look, bab-”

“Don't you dare ‘babe’ me.” You tried to keep your anger in check, but by the look on his face, you were not doing a very good job. His gaze zeroed in on you eyes, damn, were they glowing? You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to calm yourself, only to realise he still had hold of your hand. You wrench it out of his grip.

“What the-” it was said under his breath, but you still heard it. “How are you-” wrong line of questioning, please don't ask. You knew his grip had been too strong for a normal person to have been able to pull out of, but you had done it anyway. His phone was ringing in his pocket, but he was too busy staring at you, mesmerised.

“Aren't you going to get that?” You say, clearing your throat.

“Huh, oh yeah.” As if only just realising it was his phone that was ringing. “Hello. Okay.” His eyes don't leave yours, capturing you there, ensuring you don't leave while he's busy. “What's that got to do with me? Well, I'm in the middle of something right now.” he has the audacity to wink at you. “Can't you find someone else? Alright fine, I'll be there as soon as I wrap this up.” He still holds your gaze as he pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up without looking. “Sorry, darling, but something has come up.” You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Don't look so relieved, this conversation is far some over. I want to know everything, “He says up bracing himself on the table as he leans over so his face is only inches from yours. “About you strength, your healing skills and about everything you won't tell me. I will not let this go. I will find out.” The threat paralleled Aeras, only this one made all other threats seem like jokes. And you were on the wrong end of it. Part of you was intrigued to see what lengths he would go to to get the information, another part of you was terrified to find out. You let out a shaky breath, it mingled with his in the air as you realised he had gotten even closer. Close enough to kiss you. You looked down at his lips, flashbacks to the kisses you used to share flood your mind. You could only imagine how much better he had gotten, and he felt so good before.

Snapping your eyes back up to his, you saw he too was looking at your lips, maybe wondering the same thing. Unfortunately, for him you would not have improved, having been with no one since he abandoned you. As if sensing your eyes, he met them with his own, glowing an electric blue that you knew meant he was just holding his power in check. The shadows of the room seemed to have a mind of their own. Writhing and twisting, awaiting order from their master. You knew if you looked in a mirror, you own eyes would be glowing green, meeting the challenge he had placed at your feet. You would not go down that easily. You would fight him every step of the way after what he did to you.

Suddenly, he pulled back, seeming to get himself under control. As gracefully as he could, he slid out of the booth and stormed across the cafe. Glancing back over his shoulder as he yanked the door open,

“This is not over”, were the last words you got from him before he used his speed to vanish to wherever he had be called to. You slumped back in your chair, letting out a breath as you did. All the tension leaves your body. That man, that infuriating man.

You sat at your desk later that day, anger and restlessness still filling your muscles. There was only one thing for it. Opening up your internet browser, you looked at listings for raids. There were a few that would have worked for you to be able to let off some steam, but only one A-Rank gate. It had been a while since you had been on a raid, and you’d leveled up a few times since then, so it would be good to test your new strength. There was a party that needed another member to help carry their gear, which gave you, an E-Rank Healer, a good excuse to join their party. Nobody would take you seriously as a fighting member of a party or even a healer.

Contacting the Captain, he seemed hesitant to accept you, but there was no one else who had applied, so you got the location of the gate and the time to meet them. A quick glance at the clock showed you had plenty of time to get there, but you had a thing about being late, so you closed out of your browser and shut down the computer before making your way to the bedroom to change.

At the back of your wardrobe sat your hunting gear. It had been through a few different iterations over the years, with the most major one being when you became a player. The first few level-ups lead to some…drastic, changes in your physical appearance. You'd finally settled on a black long-sleeved top with cut-outs that left your shoulder exposed, tight black trousers and knee-high combat boots with built-in dagger sheaths. A utility belt sat around your waist, allowing you to carry almost anything you needed quick access to, such as health potions, food and teleportation stones. The utility belt was easier to explain the having access to the Systems' never-ending inventory. You finished the ensemble with a long black cloak complete with a hood that did a good job of hiding your identity from the people you had met through work. You didn’t share your name with everyone you met, but they would have seen your face, and as it's frowned upon for association workers to raid gates without approval, and you were technically a retired hunter, you shouldn’t really be doing this. You shrugged at your reflection in the mirror, oh well, you had to let off steam one way or another, and raiding was more fun than going to the gym.

You arrived at the gate with time to spare, perched against a nearby fence to wait for the rest of the party to arrive. It wasn’t long before a group made their way down the street to the gate.

“Right, this is it,” one of the part members spoke, you assumed it was the Captain from the authority in his voice, “We just need to wait for the E-Rank to arrive.” They obviously hadn’t seen you in the shadows, just as you were about to step out and reveal yourself, something made you pause. “Why’d you have to get an E-Rank?” A member of the party questioned.

“Yeah, now we’ll have to spend the whole time making sure they don’t get killed.” Came another voice.

“And all that would take is them to trip over something!” The first voice responded laughing, causing the rest of the party to break out in hysterics. It was the same everywhere. E-Ranks are the lowest of the low. They’re a joke to the Hunter community, and there was no way to prove them wrong because, quite frankly, it's true. Most E-Rank hunters have no business being in a dungeon, especially not an A-Rank one. But that doesn’t make it hurt less.

“Hey now,” It was the Captain’s voice, “We don’t have to worry about keeping them alive. What happens in a dungeon, stays in the dungeon. If they die, they die, that's not our fault. They knew what they signed up for when they joined the raid.” You should have known better than to hope the Captain would have been different. With a sigh, you stepped out of the shadows.

“Nice to know you all think so highly of me.” Your voice was flat, and you refused to show them any weakness. They, on the other hand, had the decency to at least look a little guilty, well, all except the owner of the first voice. A Tank, if you had to guess by the way he was dressed, a typical Tank based on his attitude. You locked eyes with him, even without the hatred in his eyes, you could feel his contempt for you. This was going to be fun, you rolled your eyes.

Clearing his throat the Captain spoke, “Right, uh, so you ready to go?” you nodded in response, “Good, this is the bag of stuff for you to carry, lets go then.” without hesitation the captain drops a heavily ladened rucksack at your feet and turns to walk into the gate followed swiftly by the rest of the party, with you following closely behind adjusting the straps of the bag as you go.

You yawn as the party stops to rest in a clearing before continuing to trek through the forest in search of the Boss.

“Oh, I'm sorry, are we keeping you up?” the group's Healer snarls at you.

“What do you have to be tired about? You haven’t done anything!” It’s the arrogant Tank again. You haven't bothered to learn any of their names, after all, it's not like you’ll be joining their party again. That was a rule of yours: if you were going to go into gates, you could never go with the same party twice, it ran too big of a risk of someone discovering something they shouldn't. He wasn’t wrong; you hadn’t done anything, you yawned because you were bored. Only one beast had appeared at a time, making it easy for the party to take them down without you being able to join in. What you needed was a big battle; multiple beasts at once would mean they were all distracted, and you could test out your new speed and strength. You hoped you’d at least be able to have some fun when you found the Boss, but that wasn’t going to happen at this rate. It felt like you’d been walking in circles for hours, never getting any closer to the source of magic you could feel in the distance.

You dropped the heavy bag you were carrying to the ground, letting your irritation get the better of you. You were spoiling for a fight, and if that had to be with members of the party, then so be it. Rotating your shoulders, releasing the tightness they held from supporting the bag, you took a step towards the Tank, only to pull up short. A massive source of magic was coming through the trees at speed. Turning slightly to face the oncoming threat, you dropped into a fighting stance.

“Ooo, look at this. Little E-Rank wants a fight!” You were too focused on the actual threat to care who said it.

“Oh, shut up. There’s something coming.” You didn’t take your focus off the woods before you.

“I don’t feel anything.” It came from the Captain as he walk up to stand beside you, facing a threat he didn’t believe existed.

“Focus. Something’s coming this way. And fast.” you felt the curiosity emanating off the Captain, there was an undercurrent of disbelief tainting it, but after several moments, almost too many, the Captain turned to the rest of the party and called battle stations.

Just as the party were getting ready to fight, a huge beast burst from the tree line. This was unlike any beast you had seen before. It had a huge lion's mane that steak out behind it as it ran towards you, but its face was too human to call it a lion. Whilst it was running, it used all four legs, but as it skidded to a halt when faced with the party, it stood on its back legs, stretching to its full height. Stood upright, it was taller than the trees that surrounded them.

“What the fuck is that?!”

“How did we not feel that coming?”

“How did the E-Rank feel it was coming?”

The questions came thick and fast, but there was no time for answers. Great swiping claws reached just inches from them as the beast attacked.

“Positions!” yelled the Captain, taking his eyes off the beast for a moment to check his party had heard him. It was enough time for the beast to aim another strike at him, sending him flying past you and into a tree before slumping to the ground. You followed the movement, double-checking the rest of the party were handling their own before running to his aid.

Sliding to a halt on your knees beside the Captain, you assessed his injuries. Four massive gouge marks lined his chest. If he wasn’t treated fast, he wouldn’t make it out of the gate. You had sworn to yourself that you would never leave a man behind. You now had the power to heal people even when on the brink of death, you would not allow yourself to waste it.

“Gods, damn it. Why’d you have to be such an asshole to me?” It's so much easier to heal people when they’d been nice to you.

“S-sorry”, his response was quiet; he didn’t have long. Knelt in the dirt, cloak spread out around you, you rubbed your hands together, warming them slightly before laying them flat to his torso. Covering as much of the wound as possible, direct skin contact was the best way to heal a wound without scarring. Closing your eyes, you channelled your mana into your fingers, visualising the injury and knitting it back together. In the back of your mind, you could hear the fighting that happened behind you, subconsciously you kept track of where in the clearing the fight was, tensing when the clashes and shouts got closer, before relaxing when they retreated again. Your perception skill allowed you to pinpoint everyone based on their emotions. The arrogant Tank was on the front lines, forcing the beast back away from the Healer who was helping a Mage who had been wounded. The beast was surrounded, but somehow still winning the fight.

Bursting through the defensive line the creature took a swipe at your undefended back.

At least, it thought it was undefended. At the last second, you took a dagger from its sheath in your boot and sliced. The paw that should have ended you instead landed, severed, next to you. The beast let out a roar of pain, swiping blindly with its uninjured arm only to be met by a shield, halting its progress. You turned to see the arrogant Tank looking at you with pure confusion. “What the-”

“Not the time.” You looked back down at the Captain to see that his wounds had healed with no visible scarring. The Tank pushed the beast back, straight into the path of an incoming attack spell. Flicking your dagger to remove the blood from it, you stood, slow and with purpose, weighing your options. The party knew, there was no going back now. No pretending you were some weak E-Rank. You might as well end this and hope they agree to keep your secret.

You take a deep breath, now is a good a time as any to test out you new skills. One foot in front of the other, you crouch slightly, stooping to collect the dagger from your other boot. You always loved dual-wielding in games, and it gave you a slight thrill to try it in real life. With one last scan of the area, you launch at the beast, using your speed to catch it off guard with a slice across the chest before ricocheting off a tree on the other side of the clearing to slice across its back. Landing in a three-point pose, you see the beast is stunned and confused, looking around to find the source of its wounds. Letting out a breath, you leap into the air above the creature's head before dropping onto its shoulders to slice your daggers across its neck, severing everything major. You feel the body beneath you wobble and tip as the life leaves it, as it tumbles to the ground, you jump off, leaving enough space to ensure you don’t get crushed under its enormous weight. A quick check over yourself makes you realise you're not a breathless as you should be, you have gained more stamina than you thought. You walk over the fallen beast and wipe your bloodied daggers on the scraps of cloth that cover its body before sliding them back into the sheaths at your calves. Straightening, you glance around at the rest of the party to ensure there are no more injuries that need to be taken care of. Instead, you are met with 9 pairs of eyes, all looking at you with a mixture of confusion and awe. Shit.

“What-” Starts the Captain, still struggling to get to his feet from the base of the tree you left him at.

“What the fuck was that!?” the Tank interrupted, he seemed to be the only one seething with anger, everybody else frozen in shock. You remained silent, unsure of what you could say to make this better.

“Hayoon, calm down, I’m sure there is a logical explanation,” the Captain, now on his feet, set his hand on the Tank's shoulder before returning his attention to you, “right?”

“Umm, I don't really know what to say.” You avoid eye contact, looking at anything but the 9 people who wanted an explanation out of you.

“How about you start with the fact that you are clearly not on E-Rank Hunter of any kind.” The Captain gives you a pointed look.

“I mean, technically, officially, I am an E-Rank.” You fiddle with the edge of your cloak.

“So you tricked the assocaition somehow?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I, um, well, I was an E-Rank when I got assessed but I trained and shit and now I'm, not?” you grimace at the weak answer.

“Wait so you reawakened?” A Mage across the clearing spoke

“Um…sure”

“And based on your reaction, the association doesn't know?” You shake your head, “And you don't want them to know.” You nod. “So you need us to keep your secret.”

“Yeah, basically.” You gave the Captain a hopeful look, knowing he gets the last say on what the party would, or would not, say.

“Give us a moment.” The Captain gestured to the rest of the party and walked off into the woods. You looked down at your hands, they were covered in blood, you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins slowly dissipating, leaving you trembling slightly. You wiped your hands on your trousers in an effort to get rid of the worst of the red, this was why you wore black. You had to walk through the city after this, and you didn't need anyone asking why you were covered in blood, and blood didn’t show up on black. You were still trying to get the staining off your hands when the group reappeared out of the trees.

“Okay, we'll keep your secret. It's the least we can do after you saved our lives. And, by the looks of it, took out the Boss single-handed.” The Captain shrugged before clearing his throat, his voice returning to the authoritative Captain he was before the fight. “On that note, we'd better harvest what we can from the nearby area. Now the Boss is defeated, it's only a matter of time before the gate closes, so we need to get out of here quick.” Everybody nods and gets to work.

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[autisticandroids]

Ok I’m really curious, while I thought Chikhai Bardo honestly fell a bit flat and was a bit too close to just being a generic dead wife montage, I did think it at least gave Gemma *some* amount of agency, elaborated on her at least a little (still not enough tho imo, which I hope S3 rectifies). Anyway what I’m curious about is why you seem to dislike it so much, because while that irked me I couldn’t say I quite thought it was particularly repulsive (might be a blindspot on my part idk).

so there are two parts of chikhai bardo: the dead wife montage and gemma's innies. i'm going to discuss them separately.

first, my more ardent critique:

so the thing about dead wife montages. in fiction. is that they suck because they are misogynistic. but they also suck because they are lazy. the point of a dead wife montage is to convey to the audience in extremely efficient shorthand that we should Care About This Guy's Feelings For His Dead Wife And Understand Why He's Mourning Her. they are extremely economical in terms of information: all they give you is You Should Feel A Warm Fuzzy Feeling For This Woman Who You Know Nothing About. this is why people don't like them: they're not just sexist, they're cliche and manipulative. they use shorthand to the point of near parody. they're messing with your emotions in an unearned way, and they're kind of a waste of your time.

but the reason shows and movies still use them is that they are highly economical. you can use two to five minutes of screentime to introduce, explain, and kill the dead wife so the actual action (avenging her death, grieving her, trying to get her back, whatever) can begin.

severance showed me dead wife montage for half of the episode runtime. like. yes. unbelievably sexist, but also a waste of my goddamn life? twenty five minutes or so down the drain where the show conveyed almost nothing. that's actually why i initially thought it was a joke: the idea of a whole episode of a show dedicated to Dead Wife Montage is like a thing you would say to make fun of something. because dead wife montages aren't just sexist they're kind of pointless. like that's runtime of a movie/show that the writers and directors put no thought into because all it does is serve a mechanical purpose.

it is incredibly annoying to me that past gemma is given so much screentime and the show has so little to say about her. like, what do we learn in the dead wife montage? she was a professor. she likes plants. she had a miscarriage and it caused marriage problems. she had a fight with mark before the crash (which maybe caused him to blame himself for her death). and that last one is much more a thing about HIM than her! the plants thing is also more about him: we learn that he doesn't quite listen to her but he tries, and then she forgives him. mark is the agent in that interaction. which makes sense, it's HIS memory. and that's the other thing isn't it: we aren't seeing gemma, we're seeing his memory of her.

also, if you are ever planning on making a woman's CENTRAL CHARACTER TRAIT and i mean her CENTRAL CHARACTER TRAIT being sad about a miscarriage, consider: not doing that. like quite literally the only time we ever see her really do anything other than react to mark in the montage is 1) when we see her tell devon she's pregnant and 2) when we see her cry in the shower. that's IT.

but also beyond my critique of the misogyny, here's like. a quick reimagining of the flashback parts of chikhai bardo if they were good and not a waste of time:

gemma comes home from work. she gets a glass of water in the kitchen. mark walks in and they avoid each other's eyes. maybe gemma reminds mark about the party (it was a party, right, that she was going to?) and he gives a non-committal answer, or just an "mm." this tells the audience two things: one is that this is a flashback, obviously, and the other is that there is a strain here between the two of them.

next scene: gemma reaches out to mark (emotionally or maybe physically) and he rebuffs her. calmly, maybe a little bit passive aggressively. but she is clearly stung. she dumps her water and pours herself a whiskey instead.

next scene: gemma goes to her bedroom and sits on the bed, obviously depressed. she switches on the television and something symbolic plays. or she looks at her phone, or picks up a book. or even looks at the chikhai bardo cards. whatever. we do the symbolism in this segment.

next scene: we start on mark at his stupid typewriter. gemma comes in obviously tipsy and ready to lash out, and once she does mark matches her energy. they have a knockdown, drag out argument about... something. either it's not clear what they're fighting about, or they're obviously fighting as a proxy for something else. at one point, one of them picks up a [baby toy] [piece of wood obviously from not yet assembled furniture] [screwdriver] [something like that] and throws it at the wall. in the background, you can just make out the ikea box for a crib. this allows the discerning audience member to pick up on the foreshadowing, and the less discerning audience member to have an a-ha! moment when they get to the crib disassembly scene in the finale.

next scene: the fight continues, but gemma accidentally cuts herself on something while she's gesticulating. mark immediately softens and rushes to clean the cut and get her a bandaid. we show the audience that this marriage may be on the rocks but there is still love here and gentleness, this relationship is salvageable, times are just hard right now.

next scene: i don't know, they make nice or something. but then one of them puts their foot in their mouth somehow, and the coldness returns.

final scene: gemma tries to get mark to come to the party with her (as an obvious attempt to repair bridges) but he won't. she goes anyway because she's mad. the audience realizes with dawning horror that this is the night of the crash.

this does the things that the dead wife montage does (shows us mark and gemma Before; sets up Sad Miscarriage; shows us a reason for mark to blame himself for gemma's death) but it's not boring. and it shows gemma doing things and making choices, it lets us get to know her as a character. probably a better writer than me could do more justice to it, i just thought of this in five minutes and it's super cliche. but it's something that would get us 1) a chikhai bardo that is not a waste of all our lives, and 2) an actual character study on gemma and on gemma and mark's relationship. instead of a dead wife montage. you'll notice that this rewrite doesn't actually address my political critiques! it still centers on Sad Miscarriage Plotline! which is like fundamentally misogynist and not less so if it's better written. it still centers gemma's personhood on mark, which, ditto. so the symbolism girlies who are sooooooo excited to see a woman's personhood being attached to her ability to reproduce can be satisfied.

because like. the misogyny of the dead wife montage sucks ass. but it's also just insulting.

it would also allow gemma to emote and be complex and have thoughts and needs etc. in a way that ms. casey does not. more on that in a moment.

second, my more nuanced critique:

i would really, really have liked to like the innie bits of chikhai bardo. the whole "dozens of innies, each given a unique sort of everyday suffering, forever" premise is like so deliciously fucked up. it's a beautiful extension of the "severed to give birth" plotline in season one. and it's really miserable to watch! "my hand hurts" is such a chilling line. like that really has some get up and go as a horror premise. it like brings you back to the fundamental horror of the severance premise in such a sick way.

but the thing is...

okay. record scratch. so in season one when we first met ms. casey, my first thought was "hey man, this is kind of racist."

like her eternal smiling calm, her submissive gentleness, the fact that she appears to have no personality outside her role... well. Yeah Of Course You Cast An Asian Woman For That.

and then we find out she's an innie. and gemma's innie, at that. and i'm like, okay. benefit of the doubt. they're going to subvert this. we are going to see gemma scout kicking and screaming, desperate to escape next season. or we are going to see her totally suppressed, because they can't control her except through brainwashing.

and then chikhai bardo begins, and we see ms. casey smilingly calm, submissively gentle, cheerily submitting to her role and noncommittally answering questions and being led around empty-headedly. and then i realize oh god. this isn't ms. casey. this isn't another innie. this is gemma scout. this is just what she's like.

(it's interesting that the only parts of her which are not like that are her multiple innies. her mini-innies, as it were. the ones in the rooms who go through the tortures) (check this post out for thoughts on the fact that we're not really meant to care about them).

like the thing is. it's one thing that her innie is like that. you can convince an innie that almost anything is normal, because they don't know what's normal. they're new people under your absolute power. but gemma scout knows what the world is like and presumably knows she's being held captive against her will and she's just like. chillin. she doesn't even think of rebellion until they mention (drumroll) her husband. because a woman only exists in relation to her husband. she makes a break for it as though she has never yet, in three whole years, considered trying to escape. because she is so obedient. so subservient. so consumed by her role.

and if you look at the finale this holds true! gemma is clearly herself when she's not in the rooms, because she recognizes mark and cheerfully escapes with him!

and then in the elevator, ms. casey wakes up kissing mark, and says "what is taking place?" which. i must say. killer laugh line. but then she doesn't react really at all after that. she doesn't push mark away. she doesn't refuse to go with him. she doesn't get freaked out that he's covered in blood. she just passively lets him drag her through the hallways without emotion.

because that is gemma's core character trait, other than being sad miscarriage lady, i guess. calm passivity. man that's fucking racist.

[i feel like i want to add something about how the episode racialized her? the title + her in the dress at the white man's feet + the cards + etc. but i don't have my thoughts together on it + don't really have the words and concepts to express them. someone else could analyze that though.]