#you are the reason that i'm smiling when there is nothing to smile about

[flowergirl1243]

love looks pretty on you

SUMMARY: When Lando learns to love gently and you learn to let him, even the quietest moments start to feel like forever.

PAIRING: lando norris x reader

MASTERLIST ✩~✩ REQUESTS

Lando's eyes were soft in the way that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. It was stupid, really. You’d just passed him a bowl of blueberries. That was it. You were standing barefoot in the kitchen of the Monaco apartment, wearing one of his hoodies and nothing underneath, hair still messy from sleep. And somehow, he was looking at you like you were the reason the sun rose.

“You good?” you asked, quirking a brow, half-suspecting you had a smudge of mascara under your eye or something.

He just smiled, that lazy, slow burn kind of smile. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice still hoarse with morning. “Just…you’re really pretty.”

You flushed. “I'm literally chewing.”

“Still true,” he said, not missing a beat.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “You always get sappy before race weekends.”

“Not true,” he argued. “Sometimes I get sappy after race weekends, too.”

You laughed, light and surprised, and his smile deepened.

You hated how easily he did that. How effortlessly he softened you. There were versions of yourself you hadn’t met until you met Lando. Versions that didn’t feel the need to prove anything or keep her guard up. He’d never asked you to be anything but what you were.

And maybe that was the whole point. It wasn’t always easy, though. Being with Lando meant long weeks apart, late nights, media scrutiny, time zone math, and making peace with things left unsaid. It meant learning how to hold tight without holding him back.

But in the quiet, in the mundane, he loved you so gently that it softened every edge you didn’t know you still had.

The paddock in Silverstone buzzed with its usual chaos: media, PR staff, team engineers running on caffeine and adrenaline. You’d come for support, not in the glamorous WAG way, but the normal way. Hoodie, baseball cap, coffee in hand, staying mostly out of the way. You kept your badge tucked in your back pocket and slipped through barriers like a ghost.

He caught your eye from across the garage as he tugged on his gloves. Gave you that small, crooked grin you loved. The one that meant there you are. You wiggled your fingers back at him in greeting. He mouthed, love you, like it was muscle memory. You mouthed it back.

These moments, they weren’t dramatic.

They weren’t Insta-perfect.

They were quiet.

Yours.

Later that night, after he placed P2, after media and debriefs and congratulatory texts from half the planet, you found yourself curled up in his hotel room, legs tangled beneath the sheets. His head was tucked against your chest, hand sprawled on your stomach like he was keeping you there.

“You good?” you whispered, fingers brushing the curls at the base of his neck.

He didn’t answer right away. Just nosed your collarbone like he was grounding himself. “I hate being away from you.”

You smiled, tilting his chin up so you could meet his gaze. “You’re always away from me.”

“I know. Doesn’t make it easier.” You searched his face, thumb brushing along his cheek. “You okay?”

He nodded. “I just…I don’t know. I saw you earlier. In the garage. You didn’t say anything, but you looked at me like I was yours. Like you didn’t care about the result. And it—” He cut himself off, a small shake of his head. “That does something to me. You do.”

You didn’t say anything, just leaned down and kissed him, soft and slow. “You are mine,” you said. “Even when you’re halfway around the world.”

The first time he told you he loved you, you were brushing your teeth. It was late, and you were grumpy from jet lag and smudged eyeliner. He was sprawled on the bathroom counter like a menace, watching you with that stupid, unreadable face of his.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, like he’d just thought of it. You blinked, toothbrush halfway in your mouth.

“What?”

“I love you.” You spat into the sink and stared at him. “Are you joking?”

“Nope.” He looked delighted by your reaction.

“You pick now to tell me?”

“Seemed right,” he said. “You look cute when you're grumpy.”

You stared at him for a beat longer, half-annoyed, half-dazed, then flicked water at his face. He took it like a champ. You told him you loved him, too, five minutes later, when you were curled into his side on the couch, your cheek pressed against his chest.

You said it again a week later, and again two months after that. Every time, it meant something slightly different. But he always said it back like it meant forever.

Your mother used to tell you that real love isn’t loud.

“It doesn’t need to shout,” she said. “It just stays.”

You never really understood what that meant, until you met Lando. Because he stayed. When you were sick. When your anxiety flared. When your job was chaotic. When you got overwhelmed by his world, by how public it was, by how cruel the internet could be, by how easily people thought they knew your relationship just because they saw two seconds of it.

He stayed. He texted you good morning every single day, no matter what country he was in. Sent you songs that reminded him of you. Picked up your favourite snacks from airport lounges. Called you on back-to-back weekends just to hear your voice. Sat through your stress-rambling, your meltdown over flights, your panic over turning twenty-five and still not having everything figured out.

He stayed. He never made you feel like loving you was work.

You were sitting on the edge of the track in Monza when he asked if you wanted to disappear with him. You’d snuck out early, dodging most of the post-race media, and ended up sitting on the grass near the curbs, shoes off, the scent of burnt rubber still hanging in the air. He dropped beside you, still in his fireproofs, a little sweat-slick, a little tired, and rested his head against your shoulder.

“Run away with me,” he murmured.

You smiled. “To where?”

“Anywhere. Somewhere no one knows us. Some quiet little village. With bad WiFi and no paps.”

You leaned your head against his. “Wouldn’t last a week without sim racing.”

He laughed, the sound low and real. “Fine. Some place with okay WiFi. But no expectations. No press. Just you and me.”

You closed your eyes and let yourself pretend. “What would we do?”

“Wake up slow,” he said. “Drink bad coffee. Get a dog. Bake things we’re terrible at baking. I’d build you a greenhouse.”

“A greenhouse?”

“Yeah.” He turned to face you. “I know you want one. You always stop and stare at them when we drive past those little countryside houses.”

You swallowed, throat tight. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything.”

You kissed him right there, the engine roars in the distance fading beneath the sound of your heartbeat.

Later that year, he bought you a keychain. It was dumb. Silly. A cheap little trinket from a gas station in Austria. But it was a miniature greenhouse. Tiny plastic succulents under a clear dome. You burst out laughing when he handed it to you, and he looked so proud of himself that you had to kiss him again. You kept it on your keys.

He never stopped doing that, bringing you dumb little things. A rock he found that “looked like your favourite crystal,” a napkin with a doodle of the two of you holding hands, a hotel pen from Dubai because he “liked the way it wrote” and thought you might use it for your journal.

Love looked good on him.

It looked like soft curls and sleepy grins. Like fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh under the dinner table. Like the way he whispered your name when he was half-asleep, as if making sure you were still real.

Love looked good on you, too. He told you that once, when you were getting ready in front of the mirror, adjusting your dress before a gala. You hadn’t noticed him watching until he came up behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You look pretty,” he’d said.

You smiled. “Thanks.”

“No,” he said. “I mean, you always look pretty. But…I don’t know. There’s something about how you look when you love someone. It’s in your eyes. You look, whole.”

You turned in his arms, pressed your palm against his cheek. “That’s because I do love someone.”

He kissed you like he believed it.

You didn’t need declarations. You didn’t need diamonds, or front-page headlines, or people calling you a power couple. You just needed this. The way his hand found yours under the table. The way he leaned into your touch like it was the only thing anchoring him. The way he kissed your forehead after a hard race and whispered, “Still proud of me?” like it was the only question that ever mattered. “Yes,” you always answered.

Because love looked pretty on him.

On you.

On the way you both existed beside one another, delicately but unshakeable.

And if Heaven was for lovers?

Then this, him, you, this fragile, everyday kind of love, was the closest thing to it.

My song inspiration of the week. Music is really what gets me to write some of these because I feel it so deeply in my soul! I'm really proud of this one. I hope you love! As always, requests are always open!

Note: I'm actually so upset, this formatted weirdly and I had to fix it.

[myxo-gabriel]

it really hurt me, even when I saw it in the game itself...

hehe.

. . .

that's probably the reason why I'm still working on my project... but hey, that's fine! even when I finish this project, and I have nothing to do... but hey, it's going to be okay! I'm just the creator!.. even if I'm just an empty creature with a few character traits... heh... heh... I'll just go, and... make more molten parasites!.. I still have to come up with new varieties! heh. heh... the hell...

if I forget my unreal friends, I will quickly become depressed. again...

but hey, that's fine!..

. . .

yeah, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have started this depressing shit. even if I planned to say it all when I would have completely finished my project... but... uhh... I've always thought and always will think that I feels like Kris, but that's how Toby Fox shows Ralsei in 3+4... ugh... "that's... that's fine! look, Kris, I'm smiling!"... I'm smiling... heh... even if I'm not really smiling... I'm smiling with my soul!.. "that's fine!" I'm saying... did everyone who promised they wouldn't leave me alone stop texting me the next day?.. that's fine!.. has the person I love been cheating on me all the time?.. t-that's fine!.. no one wants to communicate with me irl, but they do it just for a joke?.. that's fine!.. does my family not notice that I'm not quite okay?.. that's fine!.. Did my parents always forbid me to express my true emotions when I was a child?.. that's... fine!.. in this game, that they call "life", I'm just a toy that you can play with and throw away!.. this project is just a ghostly chance to show that I'm more than a toy, but this opportunity is just an illusion... and that's fine!.. even if I'm real, it's not as a person... not as an individual... and that's fine!.. no one will accept me for who I am, and that's fine! you don't have to!.. no one have to... but... I will!.. even if no one will accept me, I will try to accept everyone!.. I'm just an empathic toy!.. even if they just use me to ask for support or emotions, or if they drunk, then they'll just throw me out later!.. they'll just forget me forever!.. and... that's fine!.. I will not argue with fate!.. even if I continued to communicate with them, they would be reluctant to communicate with me so as not to offend me, but I feel it!.. you can offend me, and it's not punishable!.. I'll just say that that's fine!.. and I will never come back to you, because I feel that you never wanted to know me!.. but you can take me again, use me again, and throw me away again!.. and that's fine!.. I will not demand to be treated differently!.. because I know that my screams will only make things worse!.. yes!.. and that's fine!..

therefore, whoever you are, please don't lie to me that you won't leave me or that you like me, I... I feel like you're lying... but that's fine!.. but if you not... then just forget about me and make some real friends. I'm not for friendship, I'm for use!.. I'm like a plush toy that you hug when you're sad, but never again!..

. . .

I'm sorry.

please don't throw reports at me about the need for psychological help, I won't be able to use this help. in no way. my parents will never understand that I need help. and that's fine!..

as long as I have fictional friends, I'll be fine!..

by the way, Deltarune 3+4 is really neat.

I let myself say a lot of unnecessary things. I'm sorry.

and once again, I'm sorry. I promise I probably won't bring this up again. I'm here to work. and that's fine. even if I'm bad at it.

and... I'll be okay. kinda.

[adoringmha]

WHAT YOU DO TO ME

PAIRING: roommate!bakugo x f!reader

SUMMARY: though you don't know it, you drive bakugo insane. all it takes is one morning, you and no pants, for him to lose control.

WARNINGS: masturbation (m) + dry humping + oral (f & m receiving) + a little cum play + creampie + they're a lil filthy :)

NOTES: reader kinda gives cute airhead vibes (i'm sorry) but it's not too bad + kinda had a chubby/thick reader in mind when writing this but there's no specifics! she is quite shorter than him tho so imagine him gigantic if you're tall

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

when bakugo walks into the living room, he doesn’t know what he expects to find, nothing much, really. but the last thing he expects is to see you lying on your stomach on the couch, with no pants on.

you didn’t think much of it—you were in the comfort of your own home, which you shared with bakugo, sure. but you didn’t think it was a big deal. the shirt originally covered you completely, but after a few washes, it now rested just on the curve of your ass, something which you noticed when you put it on last night before going to bed.

you were comfortable and it was still morning and you didn’t have any plans today, so you figured you could just lounge about. you didn’t care enough to change your clothes or even put pants on—you trusted bakugo and after living with him for almost a year now, you felt comfortable around him as well.

contrary to popular belief, he could be very chill, especially at home—which is why you saw no problem here.

bakugo, however had a huge problem—a mental one, and a physical one as well.

he swallowed thickly and averted his gaze, letting out a gruff “morning” before walking past to the kitchen, subtly tugging at his sweats. your sweet voice greeting him a good morning did nothing good for the seed of guilt growing in the pit of his stomach as he cursed himself for thinking about you inappropriately.

he’d managed to suppress the thoughts of that nature over the months, for the most part, but this definitely wasn’t helping. and it’s not like he could say anything about it, you paid rent and you lived there just like him, he could control himself. and he walked around half naked too, so he really couldn’t complain.

he hides out in the kitchen for a bit, making himself a smoothie and oatmeal before he heads to the gym and feels himself subconsciously take a sharp inhale when he hears your footsteps approaching. he keeps his eyes on the counter in front of him, his hands gripping the granite.

absentmindedly, he hears you excuse yourself as you squeeze past him, and he tenses when he feels your arm brush against his bare back. it takes everything in him not to blast the counter to bits. you bring every one of his senses into overdrive.

the last straw was when you leaned over and grabbed one of the cut strawberries in front of him, biting into it cheekily as you smiled up at him. his eyes got caught on your lips as he licked his own, entranced by you. after a few seconds he shook his head, cursing when his gaze trailed down to your soft thighs.

he couldn't stop himself, he wasn't thinking, and he certainly didn't expect to say his next words out loud, but he did, and they were loud enough for you to hear.

"would you put some goddamn pants on for fuck's sake..."

you stopped chewing and stared at him, eyes wide. "am i...making you uncomfortable?..."

after a beat, he replied "yes."

as soon as the word left his mouth, both of your hearts dropped to your stomach for opposite reasons.

you hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable, you felt awful, almost sick to your stomach. the thought that he was so unattracted to you that the sight of your bare skin disturbed him? made you feel terrible.

bakugo, on the other hand, was yelling at himself on the inside, cursing himself for saying something he didn't even mean. the word blurted out of his mouth before he could think, almost as a defense mechanism.

part of himself wanted to push you away, the further away the source of his emotions, the better. but the other part felt nothing but dread and guilt at the way the glint in your eyes extinguished, the way you physically closed in on yourself right in front of him.

"i––i'm so sorry." you cross your arms, unsure of what to do with yourself, looking around frantically before walking off to your bedroom, letting out another quiet apology, your eyes glued to the floor.

meanwhile, bakugo's eyes were glued to the wall as you walked by, as he willed himself not to take advantage of the situation and the view to check you out.

when he heard your door close, he let out a huff and ran a hand over his face. “fuck...”

—✷—

every time he closed his eyes, he could see the perfect image of you lying on that couch and it made him throb. but he could also see the look in your eyes as you apologized to him, an almost painful look on your face, as if his words left a physical impact on you.

he felt guilty, so guilty. but not enough to stop himself from stroking his cock to the thought of you. if anything the guilt made him even more worked up, and that in turn just led to more guilt—it was an endless cycle.

he shut his eyes and leaned back against the headboard, one hand twisting around his lubed cock, the slick sound of the friction almost echoing in his head as he imagined sliding into you from behind right there on that couch. he reached his free hand down and squeezed his balls, letting out an almost pained groan as he sped up his movements.

he could practically hear that sweet voice of yours moaning as he grabbed your hips and fucked you back onto his cock. the desperate pleas and thanks dripping off your lips like sweet honey.

your room was on the other side of the apartment so you couldn’t hear him, but part of him wondered what you would do if you did. what if you knew he was touching himself to the thought of you? that just the sight of your bare skin had him losing control like some deprived teenager.

“fuck you’re so fucking sick—“ he whispered, berating himself. “fucking disgusting—shit.”

a shiver ran through his body and his hips started bucking up into the air, the mattress underneath him bouncing as he fucked his hand to the thought of you. the thought of the sound you’d let out as he smacked your ass—would you moan or squeal? the way you’d push back onto him and your ass would ripple against him, the way you’d look back at him with those soft eyes.

with that and a few more desperate thrusts, he was cumming all over his chest, eyes rolling back as he let out a gravelly moan, his body slowly floating back down from the high.

his legs trembled lightly and he looked down at himself, still stroking his cock slowly, mouth open, panting. he hadn’t cum like that in a while. and all it took was one look at you.

he let out a deep sigh. “fucking pathetic.”

he couldn’t bare to look in the mirror as he walked to the bathroom to clean up. too embarrassed to even face himself.

—✷—

it wasn’t until one day a week later that you finally revisited the situation again, in a very exposed way.

he wasn't paying attention, or rather he wasn't expecting you to be in there, especially since the door was unlocked. but he definitely wasn't disappointed when he walked into the bathroom to find you bent over, drying your legs from the shower, your soft skin all bare for him to see.

he knew he should have closed the door and walked away, and some small voice in his head was screaming that at him, but he froze for a moment and just stared, lips parted as he took in the curve of your ass, the slit of your––

you turned around and practically jumped back like a cat, gasping abruptly, cutting off the song you were humming to yourself.

"oh my god!" you pulled the towel up haphazardly, frantically trying to cover your body and bakugo's eyes snapped up to your face. "i'm so sorry–"

his brows furrowed, "why the hell are you apologizing?" briefly forgetting his need to leave the room.

you looked away, gripping the towel tighter. you weren't scared or embarrassed of showing your body, but you knew how he felt about it.

"i just don't want to make you uncomfortable...i must have forgotten to lock the door. i'll remember to next time."

he paused, conflicted on what to say, so you spoke up again.

“if you just give me a second, i’ll finish up here and get out of your way."

barely even hearing your words, since he was contemplating right then and there in his head, he just stayed standing, jaw clenched absentmindedly as he stared at you.

you blinked and tilted your head in confusion. “katsuki?”

god, you were so cute.

“is everything okay?”

"can i kiss you?"

your eyes widened, your hands gripping your towel tighter in confusion. did you hear him right?

"what?"

his eyes scanned over your face. he knew his random burst of confidence would wear off soon if he didn't try again right now. "can i kiss you?"

you found yourself tilting your head up unconsciously before you even answered, but you nodded your head. you got halfway through your "yes", before katsuki was charging forward.

his hands reached for you, cradling your face as he bent down and pulled you into him, lips latching onto yours.

surprised by his fervor, you squeaked into his mouth, hands dropping your towel and holding onto his arms for support, leaning further into him for more.

he licked into your mouth, throbbing as he felt you press your body onto his. he bit your lip and bent down further, confusing you until you felt his hands on your lower thighs, gasping as he lifted you up.

you wrapped your arms and legs around him, hungrier for his touch and he brought his lips right back to yours, hands gripping your plush thighs and groaning into your mouth at how soft you were.

he walked backwards into the hallway, aiming to go to his bedroom, but ended up pressing you against the wall, too caught up in your taste to remember his destination. you gasped quietly at the cold against your skin and arched into him, pressing your tits flush against him, making him throb against your core.

one of his arms wrapped around the middle of your back, pulling you impossibly closer, the other sliding up from your thigh to squeeze your ass. you moaned deliciously into the kiss and he pressed you further against the wall, hips flush with yours.

the two of you were practically humping against the wall like animals, months of living with each other, ignoring your attraction finally bubbled up and spilled over to something uncontrollable.

the both of you were so pent up, you were already close, the most sensitive you've probably ever been in your life.

"christ you're gonna make me–" he could barely get the words out against your lips, grunting as he felt you wetting the bulge of his sweats. you were going to make him cum like a nerdy virgin.

"suki don't–don't stop please." your voice was so desperate, so vulnerable. your pleasure was in the palm of his hand and it was making him go insane.

he leaned back, hips still moving, mouth open as he watched you, the glaze in your eyes, the plump of your lips. "you wanna cum like this princess? wanna soak my sweats just from fucking humping me all needy like this?"

you nodded unashamed, eyes rolling back already, your voice breathy and higher. "feels sooo good." your hands pulled at his hair and he cursed, groaning and moving his lips to your neck.

"fuck–" his hips were wild, no better than yours, thrashing against him determined, as you came, thighs squeezing around him, your moan caught in your throat.

he could feel you pulsing against his cock and he jerked, pressing you tight against the wall, groaning into your neck as he came, hips still rolling against yours slowly to ride out his orgasm.

you sighed happy, spent already, and licked your lips, letting your eyes open. you ran your fingers through his hair soothingly on instinct and he leaned into your touch, pulling his head back to look at you.

you stared at each other silent with need before leaning in to kiss again. he adjusted his grip on you, slapping your ass cheekily, making you squeak and him smirk as he finally walked you to his room.

he placed you down on the bed and climbed over you, kissing his way down your neck, your collarbone, and nipping your breasts lightly before licking and sucking on your nipple, his fingers playing with the other.

you moaned and arched up, pressing yourself more into his mouth, offering yourself up to him and he squeezed your breast, sucking your nipple intensely.

his eyes met yours with a salacious stare as he swirled his tongue around your areola and sat up. "you have no idea what you do to me."

you blinked at him, still dazed from the feeling of his mouth. "huh?"

he shook his head, a small but fond smile on his face as his eyes traced your body, "seeing you walk around this place with no pants on..."

his hands trailed down your torso, making your breath hitch.

"looking at me all innocent the way you do." his eyes glanced up at yours. "the way you're still looking at me now." he licked his lips. "you have no idea all the bad things i wanna do to you, baby."

you bit your lip. "so show me."

a spark lit in his eyes and he spread your legs, positioning himself in between them. once he finally got a good look at you, he could barely contain himself, "god, you–" he let out a breath, not even caring to finish his sentence and quite literally dived into you.

you moaned instantly, one hand gripping his hair, the other grabbing your own breast as you spread your legs wider for him, giving him complete access to you, only driving him crazier.

his tongue was all over you, committing everything about you to memory––your taste, your feel, your sensitivity. and he was enjoying it too, moaning into you like it was giving him pleasure.

your moans were floating in the room uncontrollably, the pleasure almost overwhelming as he sucked on your clit. his hands were holding you down, keeping you close and when you looked down and met his eyes, you could tell he was enjoying it, that he didn't want to stop. that was enough to tip you over the edge.

your thighs squeezed around his head and he moaned against you, his own eyes rolling back, grateful for the feeling.

barely aware of your surroundings through your bliss, your eyes still closed, you could feel katsuki's tongue still licking you up, his lips kissing you between your legs, head still trapped––but with the way his hands were keeping your thighs wrapped tight around him, he didn't seem to mind.

but underneath the hunger in his touch, you could feel the tenderness, and that gave you an undeniable desire to kiss him. opening your eyes, you finally let his head free and tried to coax him up, tugging his hair gently, but he simply looked up at you, mouth still on you.

"suki," you scratched his scalp affectionately and his eyes fluttered shut briefly. "come 'ere."

he simply grunted and closed his eyes, focusing on your clit to distract you.

you squirmed, your face heating up at his clear enthusiasm to please you, but went on.

"please suki? want a kiss."

his eyes opened again and he hummed against you, unable to say no to your sweet voice. he pressed a sweet kiss against you and climbed up, licking his lips.

smiling up at him, you immediately slid your arms around his neck and pulled him in, sighing as he fit perfectly on top of you. your lips connected and the both of you moaned like it was what you both needed to feel complete.

his hips pressed against yours and your brows furrowed. silently, still kissing him, you started pulling his sweats down, wanting to feel all of him.

he got the hint and pulled away to get rid of them himself. he got back in position, feeling butterflies in his stomach when your hands ran up and down his arms, willing himself not to show off and flex for you.

"wasn't done eatin' you know."

your heart flipped and you pulsed down there, and you swore by the slight smirk on his face, he could tell.

you shook your head slightly. "wanna feel you." you sat up and kissed him softly. "but first," you placed a hand on his chest and turned, flipping the both of you, and he let you, too flustered by your touch to realize what you were doing.

once his back touched the mattress, he snapped out of it. "wait-" he was not going to make you be on top for your first time together.

you smiled and shushed him, licking your lips as you finally got a good look at him. you'd been wondering for months, and he did not disappoint. his cock was wet with pre and cum from earlier and you couldn't wait to get your mouth on him.

"my turn." you looked up at him like he was your prey and his words got caught in his mouth as he blinked at you.

your tongue dragged up from the base of his cock to the tip and his head fell back immediately, "fuck-"

you licked him clean, one hand cupping his balls, the other stroking him and he laid there, mouth open like you were taking his soul from him. he couldn't stop moaning, hips twitching as you basically devoured him, smiling and humming, amused and turned on beyond belief.

how could you be both adorable and unbelievably seductive at the same time?

you took him further into your mouth and his hand found its way into your hair, wanting to hold you and ground himself as he felt the pleasure pulling him away from consciousness.

you were sloppy with it, back arched, tits grazing his thighs as you bobbed your head, covering his cock and your hand in spit, moaning eagerly as you slurped him up.

he could barely keep up with his thoughts, losing it completely when he looked down and saw you staring at him boldly, waiting to see him fall apart.

his brows pulled together and he bit his lip, tugging your hair a little harder, hips bucking into your mouth despite trying to will himself not to. "fuck i'm–" he let out a loud groan and you moaned around him, making him twitch, his cum coating your tongue.

you kept going, dragging out his high gently with slow strokes and light sucks until he was reduced to slight twitches and quiet sighs.

he swiped a hand down his face to bring himself out of his haze, the other caressing your cheek fondly. you nestled into it, a glint in your eye that made him curious.

you popped off of him but kept your mouth over him and he tilted his head, "what are you-?"

parting your lips, you stuck your tongue out and let the cum drip out onto his cock, using it as lube as you continued to stroke him, and his mouth dropped open.

"jesus baby... look at you," your mouth closed around him again and he borderline whined, an almost pained look on his face, unable to handle how enticingly filthy you were. "oh my god."

he was unsurprisingly still hard and throbbed on your tongue, his desire for you building to a point he didn't even know was possible.

gently, he pulled you off of him, bringing you up and kissing away your pout. he could taste himself on you and it made him groan and pull you closer, his entire body hot for you.

he slid a hand down to your neck and held you firmly, feeling you gasp to yourself at the feeling. you felt his lips curve up into a smile against your own.

his other hand slid down your body, following your curves down to your ass, which he grabbed a handful of before flipping the two of you over again.

spreading your legs, he got into position, fitting perfectly between them and you whimpered when you felt his cock press up against your slit.

he rubbed his cock through your folds and cursed, letting his head rest against yours. "you ready baby?"

you nodded as best you could, biting your lip in anticipation. you needed him bad.

he pressed the tip to your entrance and slid back up to your clit, swiping your wetness around––you could hear it.

"god, you're soaked." he sounded almost anguished.

you held onto him tight, one hand on his bicep, the other on the back of his neck.

his breaths were coming out hard and heavy, tongue against his cheek as he finally slid into you. you both gasped and moaned wantonly as he thrust in and out of you.

your hold tightened on him and he gripped your waist to contain himself, eyes already rolling at how warm, wet and tight you were.

"you feel fucking amazing"

you were so full of him, you could feel him everywhere, it's like you were barely present, just in a state of lust.

you could only talk in whines, your words dragged out, "mm you do too."

he kissed along your jaw, and even through your cloudy mind, you turned your head to make it easier for him. he put his head in the crook of your shoulder, thrusting deeper and faster as you clenched around him.

the sound of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours was loud, his thrusts desperate, his breath hitting your skin as he panted, tongue darting out to lick at your sweat, his body just craving the pure taste of you, like a man starved.

and in a way he had been. ever since you moved in, he couldn't even bare touching anyone else, his mind always drifting to you to the point where he gave up on hook ups all together. it was just him and his hand for months––so this, you were quite literally his drink of water in the desert.

without even looking, he reached a hand up and pressed two fingers to your mouth. "open baby." he turned his head to kiss at your jaw, drunk on you as he watched you eagerly suck on his digits like they were his cock.

when you got them nice and wet, and he could feel himself hurtling towards the edge, he slid his fingers out, kissing your cheek as he reached them down to rub at your clit.

"good girl," he whispered the words against your skin and you arched into his touch, eyes closing, your bundle of nerves hot from the pleasure.

"fuck i'm gonna-i-" you could barely get the words out, fingertips digging into his arm, the other tugging restlessly at the hair at his nape.

"come on baby, cum with me."

you simply moaned in response, already on track, his deep, gravelly voice pushing you further to the edge.

"cum inside me-"

his brows raised in surprise, his cock practically jumping inside you from your words alone, his lust making him forget he already slid his cum covered cock inside of you.

as your walls clenched tight around him, he captured your lips in a ravenous, messy kiss, moans hitting against each other, his hips rutting wildly.

you swore you could feel your veins running hot throughout your whole body, stars behind your eyes. it felt like you were floating, ascending, legs trembling.

katsuki tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth gently and pulled back to watch you, his eyes gazing over you fondly. your skin was glistening, small sighs and moans coming out of your mouth as you contracted around him every now and then, his cock still thrusting into you slowly, his cum leaking out.

"fuck..."

you came to, your eyes focusing on him and smiled at him, making his heart skip a beat.

"you took it so well, baby."

you hummed, content, walls clenching around him involuntarily, making him curse, his hand gripping your waist tight.

"let me pull out, okay?"

you nodded, looking up at him with all your trust and he felt those butterflies reappear in his stomach.

he sat up and you both winced as he pulled out. he leaned back in and kissed your forehead lightly before lying next to you and pulling you into his chest. it felt just right.

you both took a minute and just breathed, settling down as the buzz still lingered in your bodies.

your hand trailed along his abs, up to his chest and stayed there while his ran up and down your side, before resting at your hip.

he swallowed uncertainly before speaking up, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "been thinking about this for too long."

you nestled into him, making him tighten his hold on you. "me too."

you felt him turn his head towards you and tilted yours to meet his eye. you just stared at each other for a moment, letting the feeling embrace you.

his voice was quiet, soft. "you fuckin' ruined me."

you looked at him with those same innocent eyes you always do and smiled. "good. you ruined me too."

he smirked, shaking his head fondly before kissing your forehead.

he could live with that.

bonus:

after he'd cleaned you up and gotten back in bed, you propped your head on top of your hand and he turned curiously, raising a brow.

"so why'd you tell me to put pants on the other day?"

he blinked, his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. he looked away, "was just being fuckin' stupid. didn't mean to say that."

you smiled, a mischievous look in your eye, "you sure? cause i can wear pants 24/7 no problem–"

his eyes turned serious "don't you fucking dare–"

© adoringmha 2025

[sajakissed]

Can I request headcanons for how Saja Boys would confess to gn reader please?

he confesses to you

tags: gn!reader, pre-relationship, fluff, confession

Request | Rules | Masterlist

🎐 MYSTERY

Confesses after a close call. You almost died trying to protect him from an ambush made by demon hunters. You didn't exactly understand what was happening, didn't know what he is — and yet you still lunged yourself forward in harm's way just to keep him safe

"Why would you do that? Why for me?" he snarls at you, eyes sharp. Cuts you off when you try to argue. "Don't do that again. Ever. I don't get to lose you."

This is the most he has said to you, as if his control falters to let you know that it's real

His confession is quiet, intense, unblinking. "You matter to me. More than I should allow."

He doesn't ask if you feel the same. He just waits, silent, breath caught. It's as if he can't bear to hear the next words that will come out of your mouth

When you brush his hair away from his eyes and whisper that you like him too, he goes still, then exhales softly. "I see. Then I'm already yours."

🌀 BABY

He roasts you more than usual, always commenting about the way you look, glaring at you every time you laugh or smile, muttering how annoying your face is. Truth is, he is trying to hide his true feelings because he can't handle how serious he feels

The moment he confesses is surprisingly intimate, one where he finds you crying, panicking, or vulnerable, and you try to play it off

"It's no fun when you cry," he starts but his eyes softened when you didn't look up. He tilts your chin, making you look at him. "Hey. I can't stand seeing you like this. I can't function if you're not okay. I need you to be okay."

You ask why he suddenly sounds so serious, and he bites his lip, looks away, then mutters, "Because I like you, stupid. Like since forever, and I don't know how to say it without scaring you off."

When you whisper you feel the same, he pulls you into a bear hug and mumbles, "Aish, I'm so obsessed with you. It's disgusting. We should make out."

He goes back to regular programming and teases you, but his ears are pink the whole time

🎶 JINU

Thinks that your little habits — bringing him water during dance practice, fixing his collar, waiting up for him after rehearsals — aren't just being friendly. They're the reason his heart beats faster every time you're near

Doesn't even notice he's falling. Until he catches himself waiting for your touch, craving your attention, missing you when you're not around

His confession slips out clumsily. You were fixing his hair again and he just stares. "Why do you always do that?"

When you say you just care, he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Sometimes you scare me, do you know that? You keep doing this. You keep making me feel things I'm not supposed to feel."

Becomes more direct when you say nothing. "You make me want things I thought I couldn't have. But I want you. Just you."

When you return the feeling, he laughs breathlessly. Pulls you in for a hug, hides his face in your hair, and mumbles, "Don’t blame me when I start acting clingy now. You asked for this."

🌷 ROMANCE

You absolutely know he's into you. Everyone does. He does not try to hide it. He shows you that he likes you, loud and clear

But the real confession? He makes it serious and dramatic. He's convinced his confession should be grand

Sets up a candlelit dinner or steals you away to some secret hideout full of lights and music

Smiles nervously for once, then recites a poem or sings a verse he wrote just for you. "I know I joke. I know I flirt. But none of it was ever a game. I've liked you from the moment you said my name."

He looks confident, but his fingers tremble when he reaches for your hand. If you reject him, he'll joke it off, but deep down, it would break him

When you accept, he brushes your knuckles against his lips, like testing how it feels to touch you. "From this moment on, you're stuck with me, my muse. I'll make sure the world knows your name in every lyric I write."

🍿 ABBY

He's not subtle, he doesn't try to be. He shows you he likes you through sweet gestures and acts of service — he carries your bags, glares at guys who flirt with you, and threatens demons who dare steal your soul

His confession comes after a blow-up. You call him out for being too overprotective, and he blurts it out mid-argument.

He steps closer to you, eyes blazing with unsaid feelings. "You think I act like this for everyone? I'm like this because I like you!"

The silence afterward is deafening. He realizes what he just said, face going red, ears burning. "There, I said it. Happy?"

When you smile and say you like him back, he lifts you up immediately, spins you around, kisses your cheek with a loud "HA! I KNEW IT."

Puts you down and holds you close, whispering against your skin. "I'm not letting anyone hurt you. You're mine to protect. Always have been."

[seokminfilm]

man of the year﹙ kmg﹚

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝   𓏸  𝆬  ﹙ 𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟷 ﹚ pairing! kim mingyu x reader tags/warnings! non-idol au, established relationship, boyfriend mingyu, angst, hurt/comfort, apocalypse au, mutual pining, sickfic (??), descriptions of death (??), mentions of blood/injury, pet names: gyu (reader's), baby (mingyu's), mingyu is reckless and reader loves hates him for it, kissing, physical touch

saint's notes! was going to write something w joshua for this song but suddenly felt compelled to write an apocalypse au with mingyu instead 😭🙏 guys enjoy okay i'm a sucker for scenes like this fic...

now playing! man of the year (lorde) word count! 815 for! ---

"you're too reckless."

you say to no one in particular, knowing mingyu won't listen to you (especially in the state he's in). mingyu heaves softly, clutching the side of his body as blood slowly sleeps through his torn sleeveless shirt. his face looks paler than usual, and you can swear you see his cheekbones already becoming hollow, defined in a way that shouldn't be.

if this is what death looked like, mingyu was real close to it.

"gyu, keep your eyes open. please." you're silently pleading now, noticing the way mingyu's eyes threaten to flutter shut. his breaths are deeper now, heart starting to slow down.

tears prick the corners of your eyes, but you do your best to blink them away, pulling his torn shirt up to reveal the big gash along his side. blood slowly crawls from the injury, staining the floor of your safe haven as it runs into the cracks of the floor.

before all of this happened, you and mingyu used to joke about who would survive apocalypses.

it was just a silly question at the time, one that both of you would laugh and playfully argue over when laying in bed with each other, cradling one another before falling asleep.

now, you and mingyu had both proven each other wrong: you both were surviving in the unexplainable disease that had turned the world apocalyptic a year ago.

mingyu was supposed to survive longer than you. he had said he would all the time, if the only reason was because he "loved you so much he couldn't die and leave you scrambling to survive".

he still meant that, right?

as you finally finished bandaging up his side and cleaning his firm, toned body of the now dried-up blood with a cold towel. you stare at mingyu's figure, heart clenching in your chest.

he's still alive, thank god, but he looks so close to death it scares you. he's paler now, honeyed skin losing that tan you'd always compliment him for. mingyu's chest heaves slowly, so slowly you'd think his heart was struggling to keep up. his lips─the lips you used to kiss every morning before leaving for work─were turning blue now, parted just enough to let air in.

you do nothing but sit beside him, waiting for him to wake up. cleaning up your frenzied mess, you gently brush mingyu's bangs from his face, dabbing the sweat falling from his forehead.

the sun starts to set outside, painting the whole room in a golden glow. the window was open, due to mingyu's love for seeing the sunset, and you could see the ball of fire in the sky dip into the horizon.

"you'd love this sunset, gyu," you say to him, noticing how his lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. "it has that perfect arc that you always rant about when you see it."

one eye opens, and then both─mingyu finally opens his eyes to see your tear streaked face and blood-covered hands. he's already frowning slightly, face twinging in the slight pain that gnaws at his back.

"why...why are you crying?" mingyu has enough strength to reach his shaky hand up and cup your cheek, catching another tear that's already threatening to fall.

"gyu, i got scared. you promised you wouldn't die and leave me to survive by myself, but..." you let out a shaky breath, the tears starting to fall freely now. "you looked so close to death, with your pale lips and slowed breathing. i thought this was the end for you."

mingyu doesn't feel like smiling anymore at your sentence. he's gently running his thumb over your cheek, letting his eyes close as you lean against his touch.

"it's not the end for me, okay? it's just a little scratch. it's not going to take me away from you." mingyu's voice is raspy from disuse, but it's still good to hear the warmth of his familiar voice try to seep through.

"just kiss me." mingyu smiles faintly, and you laugh through a sob, pawing the tears away from your eyes. "kiss you? mingyu, i'm still pissed at you for─"

"please?" mingyu, even close to being on his death bed, is great with giving you wide puppy-dog eyes, fingers now all splayed on your cheek. his warmth is slowly returning, you think, and for that alone you feel a smile coming to your face.

"...fine." you finally concede, and lean down closer to mingyu's face. everything is more apparent to you now: the slope of his eyebrows, the crinkles by his eyes, the little mole on the tip of his nose...it's all there. all still there and working perfectly.

mingyu's not going to die. he's not going to leave you all alone to survive on your own.

when you finally close the distance between you and him kiss him slowly, softly─you reassure yourself of that.

[trippinsorrows]

give me a reason + four

authors note: after 298028 years of waiting, this story is finally off of hiatus. as i've mentioned several times, i'm seeing my joe stories to the end. don't like it. don't read. i've worked too hard on plotting these stories, especially this one.

as it's been sooooo long, i def recommend catching up and rereading. also, if you feel even more confused after reading this, then i've done my job.

lastly, shoutout to @psilovey0u for "playing" the character of shay in this one. 🥰

masterlist

words: 9k

warnings: some angst and fluff

Fall, 2010

In her almost 21 years of living, Mariella could probably count on one hand how often she’s experienced stage fright. A few times, sure, but nothing excessive. It’s always been so natural for her to perform and be on stage in front of a crowd.

But, this….this is not the type of crowd she’s ever wanted to stand before, and this is the one performance she deep down knew would one day occur but always prayed would never come this soon.

But, it has.

Clearing her throat, she drops her gaze to her closed toe black heels. Her “nice” heels. A fitting and appropriate match to her Sunday best black dress. Form fitting but concealing of her cleavage. She must have spent an hour trying to decide on what exactly to wear, eventually settling on what she could see her grandma smiling and providing a thumbs up as a cosign before shushing her away, so she could watch her stories.

Some of Mariella’s favorite memories. Memories that will never be added to again, because her grandma, one of Mariella’s favorite people on this whole earth, is now gone.

She’s gone.

Cleaning her throat, Mariella finally finds her voice just enough to speak after standing on the pulpit, silent with misty eyes for a good two minutes.

“I, ummm, I thought about this a lot.” So much. Maybe more than she’s ever thought about anything else in her life. “About what I wanted to sing. What…what she would have wanted my….my last song for her to be.”

Words that feel so strange considering less than a month ago, she was sitting on the floor of her grandma’s home playing her guitar, playing a few chords of the latest song she was working on.

Now, she’s in front of her grandma’s church congregation singing at her funeral.

Life.

Mariella adjusts the guitar, toying with the pick in her hand, clearing her throat, eyes watering once more seeing her mom cry into her dad’s shoulder. 

“I hope this is okay, grandma.” A final whispered, broken statement followed by the strum of her guitar, signifying to the choir and musicians that she’s ready. 

As ready as one can be in that moment. 

All the colors of the rainbow

All the voices of the wind

Every dream that reaches out

That reaches out to find where love begins

Every word of every story

Every star in every sky

Every corner of creation

Lives to testify

Eyes closed, emotion filling her voice, coursing through her fingers as she plays her guitar, sings one of her grandma’s favorite songs, Mariella powers through. Through the sadness. Through the grief. Through the way she’d rather be doing anything but this, and not because she hates the singing, hates the song. She hates the reason.

Hates the why of it all.

Hates it with everything in her. 

For as long as I shall live

I will testify to love

I'll be a witness in the silences

When words are not enough

With every breath I take

I will give thanks to God above

For as long as I shall live

I will testify to love

She tries to hold it together, having to ignore the heartbroken expressions of her family, the way her father—as he always has—is the pillar of strength for her mother. Tamia keeping a hold on Byron’s arm. Olivia and Everly sitting side by side, Everly’s boyfriend, Ellis, to the right of her. Iris and Promise Rose in the pew ahead of them. Her family. Her friends. The people she loves the most. 

It all stirs up the emotions that have been maximized and intensified since the moment her sweet grandmother took her last breath. However, even with all of that, the sea of grieving individuals before her, none of that brings her to the brink of her emotions until she lays eyes on him.

Is in the midst of the bridge of the song when she spots him the minute he walks into the church. Hair pulled back. Dressed in a black suit. The way he lifts his sunglasses from off the bridge of his nose and rests them atop his head. How he offers a small smile and handshake to the usher who starts to guide him to an available seat.

Only then, as he’s being guided down the aisle do their eyes lock. 

That’s when the damn breaks. 

Seeing how much empathy and comfort is conveyed in one expression. 

Seeing him.

How she holds it together long enough to finish the song is beyond her, though her voice breaks and cracks more and more towards the tail end. She holds it together. Long enough to step back from the microphone, hand over her guitar to a choir member, leave the chancel, bypassing her family where she she was previously sitting, making a beeline straight for him.

Naturally and so easily, she presses her body into his, accepting his embrace, allowing herself to fully engrain herself in his comfort. 

Because that’s exactly what it is in this moment. 

“You wanna get out of here?”

And that is precisely why he’s her comfort. He knows her so well. Better than most people. Knows how much she hates death, hates funerals. Hid out in the back of the church during her other deceased grandparents funerals. She hates this and wants nothing more than to be gone, hence her nodding into his chest.

His lips are pressed into the top of her head, her hair slick and pulled back into a neat bun. Similair to his.

Joe’s hand slides down to hers. A gentle squeeze and guidance out of the church, away from the weight of it all. They don’t go far. To a local park up the street where she used to sit on the swings and talking with her best friends about dreams of her future, hopes and aspirations, as the boys played a game of tackle football. 

Right now though, the future feels numb. 

“She’d probably tell me to stop crying.” It’s the first thing to leave her mouth after they sit next to each other on the bench. Her grip still on his muscular arm, head leaned into him. “Or to keep the noise down.”

A quiet chuckle from the man she’s leaning on. More than just physically. “Yeah, probably.” Mariella’s grandmother was the best and funniest person she ever met. At 11am, she’d be perched in front of her TV, deeply devoted in the span of soap operas she’d watched religiously as long as Mariella could remember, and by 6pm, she’d be on the front pew at church, bible in her lap, dressed in her Sunday best for evening service. She was equally firm as she was loving, and it’s a dynamic Mariella always loved.

And will miss greatly.

“How….how’s it going with the team?” Talking about death is uncomfortable for anyone, but especially her. Hence her wanting and needing to almost talk about something different. Anything. 

Except, Joe’s silence is more telling than any verbal reply. It makes the frown on her face deepen and a sense of guilt overcome her. 

She knows his NFL career hasn’t exactly gone the way—or anyone else—could have predicted. The complete opposite of BJ who’s excelled since being the nbumber one pick in the draft. 

Joe wasn’t even drafted.

Bounced around to now two, maybe three different teams, never making it far enough to actually see the gridiron beyond the preseason. It’s been rough for him, to say the least, and hearing that that might be the case yet again with another team is difficult.

She tightens her grip on his arm, murmuring, “it’ll work out….you’ll see.” 

He still says nothing, and she just knows her words are bouncing off his thick, dense layer of defense. Joe has always been the type to compartmentalize emotions, not the best with being open about them, the opposite of herself, someone who has always worn her heart on her sleeve.

Glass half empty vs glass half full. 

“Thank you for coming.” A bit of redirection. An emotional murmur, tears brewing in her eyes. For every rough thing she’s ever experienced in her life, Joe has always been there. He might be BJ’s best friend, but he’s always been more than that for her.

Much more.

A heavy sigh, her eyes shutting feeling his mouth press a kiss to the top of her head. 

“I’ll always be here for you, Ri.” An oath, a vow, a promise. “Always.” 

——————

Seeing Mariella in person for the first time in two, almost three weeks, is an experience. A strange experience. Joe doesn’t get nervous, not really, but there’s something anxiety inducing about the whole thing. About waiting in the FBO for her jet to land, for her to touch down in the same city where he is, for her to stay in said city so long as he is present only to continue the continuation by going on the road with him.

That also invokes anxiety. Once upon a time, neither thought twice about it. Ri tagging along with him for a few shows before she got back to her own career, either touring, promoting, or recording. But, that was then, and this is now. Things are different.

Much much different. 

He truly has no idea how this is going to go. He wants her with him, has missed her, longer than just for the 2 to 3 weeks she’s been with her family. He’s missed her for years. But, them “reuniting” in this sort of capacity is something he could have never anticipated. 

Ever.

The anxiety lingers and flows as her jet lands, as he waits, leaning against the SUV, arms crossed. Jumps at least five different levels as the steps lower, only to boom another ten levels when she appears at the top of said steps.

Looking around, clearly taken back by it all, Joe’s stomach tightens when her gaze lands on him. Brown locking onto brown. The smallest smile on her face as she descends. He can’t take his eyes off her, memorizing every little detail of her, from the way she has her twists down and free, the way she always prefers protective styles. The way she briefly looks down to count and focus on the steps, a must given her tendency to fall, faceplant, and everything else in between when it comes to non-flat surface. 

Even the way her hips sway in those black tights to the way her breast sit nice and perched in her plain, short sleeved, gray top.

He just takes in her.

“Hey,” she says, Joe realizing in all his staring that he’d completely missed when she reached close proximity. She crosses her arms, lifting one hand to shield from the beam of the strong lighting fixtures around them. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Of course.” There was no way he wasn’t going to meet her. “Hey.”

While he feels a bit silly and like a damn teenager repeating what was already stated, she chuckles and gestures to the jet with her thumb. “Guess I was definitely right about the rich thing, huh?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, something like that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, something, okay.” The way her smile grows makes his appear as well. It’s probably the most he’s smiled in some time. A long time. “You still haven’t really explained all that to me.”

“I will,” he promises. The story of her, of him, of them, is something he won’t keep from her. Some….parts, perhaps, but nothing as important as how they went from their lights getting cut off to owning several properties is certainly a tale worth telling. “You don’t expect me to do it now, do you?”

“No, smartass.” Another eyes roll as she lazily shrugs. “But, while I’m here with you…yeah?”

The softness and hope in her voice, the flash of something in her eyes, it’s impossible to say anything other than—

“Yes.”

Her smile deepens. “Cool beans.” Joe is the one to chuckle, noticing how she shivers, crossing her arms over her body.

“Shit,” he curses quietly, not hesitating to lift his hoodie over his head.

“No, that’s—” Her apology is interrupted by him offering her the hoodie, facial expression verbalizing what he doesn’t even need to say. Take it. She presses her lips together, silently accepting and sliding it over her head. Something stirs within him as she tries her best to adjust it given how it drapes over her body. He’s reminded. Reminded of all the times she’s taken his merch, worn it sometimes before he even gets a chance to, “borrowing” it as she would always say.

He’d never get it back. 

Not really. 

And, he didn’t really care then.

Still doesn’t now.

“Thanks,” she looks down, reading the wording. “So....Roman….he seems like a bit of an ass.”

Joe smiles. “Something like that.”

“Something like that,” she mimics his words, tone slightly mocking, eyes locking on his. “Thanks for letting me come.”

“Of course,” he murmurs. Mariella wanting to come see him, spend time with him, on her own volition feels foreign and almost wrong in some instances.

“I want a divorce.”

Her sentence from that night, before it all went to hell, before her accident, returning to the forefront of his mind, weighing down his smile and joy at having her back with him. It’s a shift noticed by her.

She frowns. “Everything alright?”

Joe has always been quick with most things, hence his ease with playing it off. “Yeah.” He clears his throat, motioning behind her. “Flight alright?”

She shrugs, making that face she always does when wanting to say something but opting for an alternative. “Yeah….boring.”

He chuckles. Initially, the plan was for Everly to fly out with Ri, but she apparently had a prior engagement that didn’t allow her to do so. Thus, Joe offering to fly out to fly back with her. Something Ri rejected at the time but might just be regretting.

He can’t help pointing it out. Some element of I told you so. “Should have let me fly with you.”

She rolls her eyes, mouth moving as if mimicking him. His smile deepens.

God, he’s missed her.

It’s only when she lifts her arms, stretching that he realizes them standing outside the jet at almost 10 o’clock at night can’t be high up on her list of things she was looking forward to during this visit. What exactly she is looking forward to, though, is something he’s curious about.

Joe recognizes that a part of her, maybe most, just wanted to get away. That she felt somewhat suffocated by her family’s attempts to help her regain her memories. That being out here with him, of all people, seemed….easier.

Free.

He just hopes that that ends up being the case.

After getting her bags, nothing more than a single suitcase and stuffed backpack, he loads them in the back of the SUV and holds the door open for her to climb in ahead of him.

She snorts, commenting, “at least you have manners.”

He rolls his eyes, starting to slap her ass as she climbs in but ultimately and smartly decides against it. A difficult thing given how….easy it all feels right now. And easy is the last word he’d used to describe anything regarding his relationship with his wife the past few years.

The very last.

“So…..” He looks over at her, seeing her phone in hand, fingers moving rapidly. Text to her family to let them know she made it, he’d guess. And then she hits the lock button, looking back over at him. “Good ole’ Dallas Texas is where we’re kicking stuff off, huh?” She turns, looking out the window, for what, he’s not sure considering how late it is and that she doesn’t bother rolling it down. “Should I have brought like….Western shit?”

He smiles, head leaned back against the seat. “I mean, if you want to. Don’t think it’s a requirement.”

Joe can hear the shift, opening his eyes to see she’s angled her body towards him. She looks down at the hoodie, clearly reading, “Dallas, acknowledge me.” She reads aloud, borderline dramatic. Her eyes dart back up to him. “You really do play an insufferable narcissist, huh?”

For a second, he’s taken back. Pulled from this moment. The sight of her, lip curled upwards, eyes wet and red, nothing but venom, “you really are a fucking narcissist.” 

He can still recall the sound of the door slamming as he walked out, leaving her alone to rage—and cry—on her own.

“Joe.”

Once more, she has to pull him from unpleasant thoughts from the past. But, relevant. Always relevant.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, running his hand over his face. “Roman is what the people like, so I give it to them.”

A weak answer, but the best he can do with the lingering feelings of his flashback still present and felt.

She says nothing, lips pressed together as she suddenly asks, practically blurting out, “are you hungry?” 

His attention briefly darts to and focuses on her mouth. “Are you?”

Ri opens and closes her mouth, shaking her head, looking away. “No….no.” He waits for it. Waits for it. Waits—“I mean, unless you are.”

“Mariella.” He cuts her off, jumping straight to the point. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“Starving,” she answers almost immediately, whining and dropping her hand to her stomach. “I didn’t even get my complimentary peanuts. What flight doesn’t offer complimentary peanuts?”

“Did you ask for them?”

“Well, no, not exactly—”

“What is exactly?”

“I don’t know,” she scowls, shrugging and answering almost defensively. “I was kind of busy.”

“Doing what?”

Another roll of her pretty eyes, as she grumbles, “do you always ask this many questions?”

Joe doesn’t miss a beat with his response. “Only when they’re warranted.” She doesn’t say anything, her scowl deepening as he chuckles and explains, “you could have just asked for something. It’s a private jet, Ri. Not commercial. Sometimes they ask, but I guess they figured since it’s so late, you were fine.”

“I wasn’t fine. I was hungry and thirsty.” The almost childlike tone of her voice, the pout of her full lips, and the overall nature of the conversation. It’s all so appreciated. More than she could possibly ever realize. 

This….this is his Ri.

“Well, what do you want to eat?”

“Pizza!” He laughs at her almost desperate answer. “I saw a commercial for Pizza Hunt at the terminal, and they have stuf—”

“Stuffed crust?” He finishes for her, noticing the way her eyebrows shift from visible confusion. “It’s your favorite.” 

Always has been. Even back when they were all kids, her parents hosting parties during the summer for the them and their friends, usually ordering a bunch of pizzas, a separate stuffed crust one just for Mariella. 

She makes a sound, pulling out her phone, typing while sharing aloud, “fave food….pizza.”

This time, he makes a sound, catching her attention. “What?”

“Your favorite pizza is pepperoni, stuffed crust, but your favorite food is Greek.”

“Greek?”

“Greek.”

She makes a face, just as confused. “Okay…what exa—”

“Gyros. Greek salads, too, but you have to have them both together. According to you, just one on its own just doesn’t taste right.” Her expression drops into something neutral and unreadable. Naturally, he frowns. “What?”

A bit of hesitation as she shakes her head, explaining, “nothing.” She clears her throat, asking, distracted almost, “so, umm, can we—can we get pizza?”

He, too, is distracted at first, curious of what’s going on in that head of hers but not wanting to push. “Yeah. Yeah….Of course.”

This is sure to be an interesting couple of weeks. 

————

“This is so good. Oh my God.”

Joe’s smile has more or less remained on his face from the minute his wife stepped off the jet, sometimes disappearing for a brief period, but never longer than a few minutes, at most.

Mariella makes a sound, reaching over for a napkin with one hand, her half eaten slice of pizza in the other. “Dude.” She starts, pausing to wipe the remnants of marinara sauce sitting right near her cupid’s bow. “You sure you don’t want any?”

He glances over at the box that sits closed on the table. Halfway confused. “Naw, I’m good.”

She then makes a face, asking, “wait, can you?”

“Watchu’ mean?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re all…..fit and muscly—” He mouths the word muscly as she takes another bite, waiting until she’s done chewing before continuing. “Seems like it wouldn’t be in your diet or whatever.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that. It’s not. Not really, anyway.” That doesn’t mean he doesn’t divest from objectively strict dietary restrictions from time to time. But, eating stuffed crust pizza close to 11 at night is a cheat he just can’t allow himself.

Her eyes suddenly widen right as she’s about to take another bite. “Wait, can I have this?”

And before he can follow up with a clarifying question, she’s gesturing down to her outfit. Some shorts and his hoodie. She put it right back on as soon as she got out of the shower.

He tries not to think too much about that.

“Aren’t I like…..this big singer or something?

“Or something.”

She glares, tossing an unopened packet of red peppers from where he’s laid across the end of the bed, her sitting up against the headboard, enjoying probably the latest dinner they’ve ever shared. “You eat what you want. Do what you want. That’s always been your thing. Especially with your career.”

She smiles craftily, taking another bite, scoffing, “guess I’m kinda of like Roman in that aspect, huh?”

He briefly wonders if he should tell her that she helped him and Paul come up with the specifics regarding the revamp of his character. That she not only created and produced his new theme song but that of his cousins as well. Ultimately, he decides against it. This is for her. Not him.

“So…..”

“So......”

She rolls her eyes, asking while moving her palm up her thigh, plate of half eaten pizza balanced somehow on her other thigh. “We grew up together, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Like….from what age?”

Joe picks up a packet of red peppers, moving it back and forth in between his index finger and thumb. “Forever.” Her confused expression is expected, as he explains, “I’ve been best friends with BJ since we were little kids.”

At that, her jaw drops. “Wait, seriously?” He nods. “So, that’s why my family loves you so much.”

You used to as well.

Mari grabs a napkin and wipes the crumbs from her mouth. “Well, everyone except Olivia.” He already know the follow-up question, preparing for how he wants to answer and how much he wants to disclose. “Why does she dislike you so much?”

Joe would consider it more hate than anything, but that’s neither here nor there. 

“I was….” Answering it in real time is a different experience, somewhat difficult as he quickly works through what should and should not be shared. What’s germane and what is not. Even if he’s not necessarily the right person to determine what she’s told and what she’s not. Especially when she’s asking for the truth.

And, he gives it to her.

Just with…..some omissions.

“I got around in high school—” 

“—Oh no.”

Continuing to flip the packet in hand, it’s difficult to contain his small smile. “What?”

She looks visibly distraught, mouth turned up in disgust. “Don’t tell me I married that school hoe.” 

At that, Joe shakes his head, retorting casually. “Naw, that would have been BJ. He was the real dog.”

“And what were you, the puppy?” 

He laughs, shaking his head. 

God, he’s missed this so much.

“So, not only did I marry my big brother’s best friend, but the school’s second biggest hoe?” It’s the way she says it, straight face and all that has him sighing and running his hand over his face.

“Something like that.”

Another almost random question that just makes sense for her. “How much older than me are you?”

“Four years,” he answers. “We didn’t get together until you were in your early twenties.”

Ri makes a sound, shrugging and reaching for a breadstick, talking while chewing. “At least you didn’t rob the cradle.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s not me.”

She snorts. “Well, it’s not like I’d remember anything anyway.” She points to her head while swallowing the remnants of the food in her mouth. “Bad car accident, remember?”

He does remember. No matter how hard he tries not to.

Specifically, the reason she was even on the road that night in the first place. 

“Joe.”

He shakes his head, realizing he’d tuned out once more. “Sorry.” Clearing his throat, he tosses the packet near the rest. “What were you saying?”

Instead of responding, he watches the way she turns and leans over the mattress to get a better look at the clock on the nightstand. “Holy crap, I didn’t realize it was this late.” Joe follows her line of vision, also slightly surprised to see 12:45am staring back at him in bright LED lights. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but I don’t really have to be at the arena until 5ish.”

Her full lips turn into a small smirk as she leans forward, hands in between her spread legs, plate now beside her, pushing down on the material of the hoodie. “Courtesy of being the big dog now, yeah?” He’s not really sure how he plans to respond to that, but it’s a moot point, as he sees the way she looks away, frown forming that causes him to redirect his focus.

“What’s wrong?”

There’s a moment of delay, as she stammers with her reply. “That….that’s what they called you at one point.” He sits up, back straightening, observing the way her frown gradually shifts into a small smile. “Like….your performance name or whatever?” Joe nods, unsure just what about this sudden remembrance has him feeling whatever it is the fuck he’s feeling. “You weren’t the biggest fan.”

“I wasn’t a fan of a lot of things they were doing with me at that time.”

And, he used to talk about it with and to her freely. Openly. All the time. More than just his wife and confidant. His best friend.

She was his best friend at one point in his life. For a long time. On some level, their friendship went deeper than that of his with BJ, whom he’ll always consider his brother no matter what.

But, Ri….that’s special.

It was, at least.

It’d been some time since Joe had felt so heavy, so empty, so devastated. And never had or could any of those words be used even in the same vicinity about the woman before him. But, they were. God, they were. 

“You’ve done and said some shit these past few months but this?” There’s an increase in his intonation, strongly influenced by the emotions he’s having a hard time containing and controlling. He feels so many things all at once, the strongest one being rage. Or, maybe hurt. It’s hard to tell. “But, this shit right here? How the fuck do you expect me to get over this, Mariella? For us to get past this?”

And just like that, there’s a shift. Not on her part. On his. The enjoyment and lighthearted tone that had consumed and swam around them from the minute she stepped off the plane is all but gone. Stomped out by the scars and memories of a past she can’t remember and he can’t forget. 

Joe moves on the bed. “It is late though.” He can feel her gaze on him, a mixture of disappointment and confusion, both evident in her voice.

“Yeah….” Mariella clears her throat and goes to stand up from the bed, gesturing to the half eaten food. “Thanks for, umm, taking me to get something to eat.” He doesn’t say anything, just nods and stuff his hands in the pocket of his sweats. “Are you st—”

“I got a separate room for myself.”

He’s not entirely certain, but he swears he sees something like disappointment flash across her face. It would track with the way she starts to mess with the wedding ring on her finger. The ring she normally only wears for public outings and rids herself of the minute they’re in the privacy of their own home or away from speculating eyes. 

“Oh.”

Another almost awkward nod. “Yeah.” 

Joe briefly considered just asking for an upgrade to a bigger suite but ultimately decided that her having her own room was for the better. At the time, he didn’t like it but felt it was for the best.

Currently, he’s not sure he still feels the same.

“Well—”

“I’ll come meet you in the morning,” he supplies, the desire to be away from her such a stark contrast from everything he’s felt over the past few hours. But, it’s an impossible feeling to shake. An undeniable thing he can’t turn a blind eye to.

Much how like they were before the accident. 

“Okay,” she agrees, crossing her arms, asking almost tentatively. “I’m still meeting the twins and Trinity, yeah?”

“Yes.” That was one of the things he mentioned to her in the car on the way to pick up her food. His cousins and Trin wanting to see her. They hadn’t since….shit, Joe can’t really remember the last time they were all around each other. With her in award season following her world tour and them all in Mania season, it’s been hectic, to say the least.

“Good.” Her smile returns at that, though it’s still not as bright as it was before the shift. And, it’s not until she walks him to the door, his hand on the knob that she offers a quiet, “goodnight.” 

Once more, difficulty not only responding but even looking at her. Mental flashes of her cold, unfeeling expression, the only sign of emotion being the tears that ran down her flushed face.

“Goodnight.”

It’s not until Joe is back in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed that he realizes this might be harder than he thought for reasons he hadn’t really considered or thought about since she was still in the hospital.

How can I forgive her for what she doesn’t even remember doing?

—————

“Naw, see, this why I don’t like doing this shit with ya’ll, cause ya’ll some cheaters!”

“How you mad cause you losing?”

“Only reason I’m losing is cause ya’ll cheating!”

“You wasn’t saying that when you was winning ten minutes ago!”

“Cause ya’ll wasn’t cheating then!”

Joe rolls his eyes, small smile on his face as he casts a lazy glance to Ri who isn’t even attempting to hide her smile and laughter. The both of which make his deepen a little bit more. She looks over at Trinity who simply shakes her head at her bickering husband and his cousin.

“Would ya’ll both shut the hell up?” She rolls her eyes, gesturing to him. “Ya’ll know Joe gon' end up winning anyway. He does every time.”

At that, Ri turns to look at him, lightly leaning closer and bumping into him as they sit next to her at the table on his bus. “Maybe you’re the one who’s cheating.”

Jon scoffs loudly. “Well, we been knew that.” 

Ignoring his cousin, Joe shakes his head, responding smoothly, “never that. Told you. I’m just good at this shit.”

Josh makes a face, mocking him, “yeah, alright, good at cheating.”

“Okay, but wait,” Ri shifts on the seat where she’s got her shapely legs crossed, smooth melanin glowing from the window behind them that shines the bright Dallas sun into their little corner. “Is it true he’s never lost to any of us? Like ever?”

A collective reply and variations of “no.” 

Ri turns to look at him, expression completely neutral, silent and watching, followed by a simple. “Oh hell naw, this nigga cheating.” 

Another round of loud agreement.

“I told you!”

“He need to be investigated!”

“I always said that shit was weird.” 

As Joe holds back laughter, he turns to his wife, asking almost with offense, “you really just gon’ agree with them like that? Over me?”

Ri sucks her teeth, turning up her nose as she angles away from him, clearly trying to hide the cards she’s holding, spread out. “The facts is the facts.” 

“And what are the facts?”

Ri sucks her teeth once more, raising her voice and rolling her eyes. “That you cheating! Cause ain’t no goddamn way yo’ ass ain’t ever lost. That just don’t make no sense.” 

Trinity makes a “humph” sound, lifting her hand. “Thank you, sis! I been saying the same thing for years.” The two women high five as Joe simply relegates to the fact that he’s outnumbered.

“Whatever.” 

As they settle back into more of the gameplay and less of the mudslinging and accusations, Joe also takes in the scene before him.

On some level, there was some concern. Maybe a lot of concern. While his cousins and Trinity don’t know the extent of his marital woes, they know enough. Have seen enough of Joe’s frustrated expressions following blowup phone calls with his wife. Know that the majority of what they sell to their fans has become nothing but a farce intended to keep their images squeaky clean. 

And, while he knows they’re the type to never intentionally act strange around her, there was some concern regarding how this interaction would go. Concern that was clearly uncalled for given the almost instant rekindling of the connection they all had. Five minutes of awkwardness that has eased into the comfort and norm Joe had once known. 

This was once his norm. Surrounded by the people he loves and cherishes the most. 

It’s nice and has been so deeply missed. 

It also doesn’t miss him how he also went into this this morning, meeting Ri at her hotel room early this morning, holding a cup of coffee, unsure of what the day would bring. And while sleeping off his many thoughts helped, it was really seeing her smiling face and the way she lit up at the gift in hand that washed it away almost entirely. 

As much as she wanted this, wanted to get away for a bit, he’s starting to wonder if he needed it just as much. 

If not more. 

“Now see,” Josh starts, sitting back in his chair, gesturing to Ri. “I thought we was on the same side, but I see you may be more like your man than you want to admit.”

Ri’s jaw drops as she motions to herself. “How you getting mad at me cause I got a good hand? The Uno rules say you can—”

Jon snickers to himself, mumbling to Trin, “she don’t remember nothing about who she is but she remember the damn rules of Uno.”

“Jon!”

Joe sighs. “Come on, man.”

His cousin points to himself, looking as if he has no idea with what he said wrong. Meanwhile, Ri is just laughing, shaking her head.

“Someone’s mad cause I’m just good at this shit.” 

Another round of bickering and arguing as Trinity pulls out here phone and makes a face before working to gather everyone’s attention. “Ya’ll. B just text me. A group of them are heading over to this restaurant bar place that’s supposed to be super popular around here.” Her eyes move side to side, as she’s clearly reading said text. “Apparently, it’s been rented out for us.” Lifting her gaze from the phone to the group, she bounces back and forth between each person. “Ya’ll down?”

And before Joe can protest, can point out how he’s/they’re trying to ease Ri into being exposed and reintroduced to stuff, his wife already has her hand up. “I’m game.”

He looks at her, not hiding his surprise at her ease in accepting. “You sure?”

“Of course, she’s sure. She about to win anyway, so what’s the point—ow!”

Jon grunts, holding his arm as Trinity rolls her eyes and places a gentle hand on Ri’s forearm. “It really is up to you, girl.”

“No, I—” Joe catches his wife’s eye as she offers him a small, reassuring smile. “I wanna go.” 

There’s hesitation and reluctance on his part. Being around his cousins is one thing. Being around his coworkers, some she knows, other’s she doesn’t, is another. Not to mention it’ll be her first official public outing since the accident, and while he values the privacy they’ll be allotted from it being rented out, there’s still employees. She might get approached. Autographs. Photos. The usual. Things she’s usually used to but not now. Not after what happened.

Joe ends up expressing his discomfort. “I don’t know.”

But, then she places her hand on his sleeved forearm, her smile shifting to something almost pleading. “Please?”

And just like that, his discomfort and feelings suddenly don’t matter. It’s the hopefulness and excitement in her gaze that has him completely swayed to the other side of the fence.

It’s what she wants, so who is he to deny or deprive her?

“Alright.”

——————

Out the corner of his eye, large smile on his face, Joe observes the way Ri blots at her eyes, saying something about regretting not wearing waterproof mascara. A comment he somewhat understands but something that somehow results in him taking in her outfit with appreciation and other NSFW thoughts. The short jean shorts that show off those beautiful thick thighs. One of his merch shirts, two to three sizes too large, tied into a knot in the back, revealing a space of skin on her stomach and lower back. The way her breast move and jiggle from her movements as she reacts almost theatrically to the albeit hilarious stories being shared at the table of family and friends.

“Wait, not ya’ll tryna do the Sister Sister switch and failing.”

Bianca laughs, shaking her head, hand raised, “no, cause ya’ll are literally so alike, and I seen pictures of when you were younger, you looked identical, so I don’t know how ya’ll weren’t able to pull it off.”

Josh sucks his teeth, lifting his beer to his mouth. “Man, cause we ain’t coordinate that shit properly.”

Pam snorts, elbows on the table, waiting for her recently ordered second beer. “How much do you have to coordinate switching places?”

“See, that’s where ya’ll wrong. It was a process.”

“Yup. A process ya’ll failed at!” Kenneth’s increased volume on the word ‘failed’ as well as his theatrical tone evoke another round of laughter from the table. 

Ri latches onto Joe’s arm, holding on and leaning into him, giggling into the sleeve of his hoodie.

He takes that moment, a space that feels like it’s only the two of them to ask, “you having a good time?” 

She peers up at him, those big, beautiful brown eyes of hers, always so filled with life and excitement. Emotions she hasn’t directed towards him in sometime. Something he’s missed so much. 

The same way he’s missed her. 

“Yeah,” she answers. “I am.”

It feels like a bit of an obvious thing. Her smile hasn’t left her face since they walked into the establishment a little over an hour ago. The way she took his hand and pointed to the decor, warm and brown, nostalgic furniture consisting of both booths and tables with a rustic, western aesthetic, including old Western posters on the wall as well as a set of juke boxes and two pool tables. The stage where another WWE employee is doing karaoke, some off pitch cover of a Taylor Swift song. 

Ri seemed ecstatic from the beginning, a continuation of her elation, and something he appreciates deeply. 

She most definitely needed this. 

Their waitress, a young girl named Shay with a friendly smile and amazing bedside manners, arrives with Pam’s beer as well as some other requests from the guests. 

“Thank you,” Ri smiles, accepting her refilled basket of fries. The girl loves her some damn French fries.

“Of course,” Shay returns the smile, but Joe catches the way she lingers a bit longer than what makes sense. Sees the same expression reappear that he noticed when she first approached their table and realized she was serving a bunch of “celebrities” including, arguably, the most famous/successful singer of this decade. 

It wasn’t hard to pick up on the fact that she’s clearly a fan. 

“I—“ She starts, clearing her throat, stammering when Ri looks up from the glass in her hand. “I’m really sorry to ask this, and I—I know I shouldn’t, but….” She stops, pulling out her notepad with a hopeful countenance. “I love your music so much. You’re literally my favorite singer ever, and I know you had the—the—”

“It’s okay,” Ri finishes, Joe looking over at his wife, not sure what to expect her to say or how she would reply. “You…you want an autograph, I guess?”

It’s asked tentatively but gentle, Shay’s voice quieting. 

“If….if that’s okay.” She then shakes her head, frowning as if scolding herself. “I know I shouldn’t be asking you when you’re trying to have priv—”

Ri’s response is to reach past him for the notepad. “Please...I’d love to.”

The biggest sight of relief as Shay provides Ri with the notepad and pen. Joe watches his wife, sees the way she bites on her bottom lip, clearly trying to figure out what to say and maybe even how to sign it.

He figures as much is true when she turns to him, leaning and whispering, “how do I sign—”

“Mari,” he answers.

She nods and mouths a thank you before moving to write a short but sweet message he sees out the corner of his eye before she hands it back to the young woman. 

Keep being beautiful. Inside and out. -Mari <3

“Thank you so much.” The girl looks like she’s just won a million dollars after taxes.

Ri giggles, “of course.” Gasping quietly, she offers, “if you want, before we leave, we can take a picture together.”

Shay’s jaw drops. “Are you serious? I might just die.”

“Well, don’t die, girl. You gotta get your picture first,” Trinity laughs. She also offers. “I don’t know if you like wrestling or even know who the rest of us—”

“I feel the glow!” Shay spouts out, clearly without thinking about it, slapping her hand over her mouth. “I did not just say that. Oh my God.”

Except, it just makes Trinity and the few of the others laugh harder as it’s decided she’ll get the rest of their autographs and photos before they all leave. 

A few minutes later, the conversation amongst them is interrupted once more but by one of them, Bianca, Pam, and Trinity all standing and motioning for Ri. “Come on, girl. We gotta at least do one song together.”

Pam smirks, voice teasing, “even if you are gonna show up all of us.”

At that, Ri’s jaw drops a bit as she looks between himself and them. “Oh, I don’t—I can’t—”

“Ella, you got like 85 Grammy’s and two Oscars. Stop playing.”

While Josh is slightly exaggerating Ri’s accolades, he’s not wrong. She most certainly can.

And, he reminds her of such.

“It’s kind of your thing.” 

She rolls her eyes, lowering her voice, body angled towards him. “Yeah, a thing I can’t really remember right now, in case you forgot.”

Never.

As long as he lives, Joe is almost certain he’ll never be able to forget that night. 

“Music is your passion, Ri. It’s who you are.” His voice is softer, his finger unintentionally tracing a heart on her thigh. “Just try.” 

He’s not entirely sue why, but it seems that his words of encouragement, albeit short and simple, seem to do the trick. He watches how she takes a deep, nervous breath. “Okay.” Never takes his eyes off her, as she links arms with Trinity and the women make their way over to the stage. Trying to decide and agree upon a song. 

His focus remains on her, the small, trepidatious telltale signs of her biting down on her bottom lip, the way she blows out a breath and fanning herself, as if trying not to panic. All of it done as the women talk amongst themselves, clearly trying to land on a song. 

Eventually, they settle on one, a classic, one of her favorite songs.

It makes him wonder if she just remembered that. 

Trinity starts off, singing off key while laughing during the opening lines of Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson. Bianca and Pam follow, with Ri only joining in for the chorus but not before she sends him a nervous thumbs up. Right before naturally and expectedly blowing it out the fucking park, surprising only a few, including herself, but not him. As she smiles while singing so easily and freely, he sits and observes, watches how she eases into it, into the performance of it all. Apprehension replaced with relaxation, nervous smiles swapped for giggles in between singing.

It’s all so familiar and reminiscent from once upon a time where she would often frequent the local restaurant back home. Every visit included a karaoke session. Practice, she would call it.

“Just you wait and see.” The awe in her voice was only matched by the way she leaned onto the counter, chin in hand, eyes dazed and dreamy as they all sat at a table together. “I’m gonna be a big star someday.”

And, she was right. She was always right. 

If only she knew what the success and fame would cost her. 

Cost them.

It’s a fun, entertaining thing, a free concert for the employees. Joe catches a person or two recording and starts to confront them on it but ultimately decides against it, because the reality is that Mari is a superstar. She can’t go anywhere without being spotted, photos being snapped, videos being recorded. This sort of setting where it’s just coworkers, friends, and employees is the best he’ll get to achieving utmost privacy. 

It was only a matter of time before the fame she can’t even remember or comprehend catches up to her. No matter how hard he may want to stop it. 

Some things….some things are just unavoidable. 

The ladies finish the song, earring whoops, hollers, claps, standing ovations as well as a request for an encore. 

Trinity playfully flips her hair. “Well, if you insist.”

“Girl, wasn’t nobody talking about you,” Jon dismisses, his wife’s jaw dropping from faux offense. “Ain’t nobody coming to see you, Otis. We want Mari.” 

“Alright, I’mma remember that tonight.”

“Now, wait a minute. Let’s not be irrational.”

As Jon works to complete damage control, Joe locks eyes with his wife who points to herself and lifts her hands in an “I don’t know” gesture.

He chuckles quietly, offering a small nod of encouragement, because he can see it. See the joy that fills her at doing something she doesn’t even realize she was born to. 

Mariella always knew she was going to be a star because she is one. 

Always has been. 

And his encouragement, once more, seems to work as she gives him a salute and turns to speak with the DJ, Pam, and Bianca, still around the booth, most likely helping her select a song. This time around, it doesn’t take as long and instead of it being a group performance, it’s a solo. A solo to an unexpected song but one that makes him smile and shake his head, especially as she sways and pats her hips to the opening drumming and guitar riffs. 

Midnight, gettin' uptight, where are you?

You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two

I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you

Ri grabbing the cowboy hat off the DJ who laughs as she winks and places it on her head while moving across the makeshift stage is the icing on the cake. The way she entertains them all, operates and conducts herself the way she always does in her element is….. comforting in ways Joe can’t describe.

Familiar in the best sort of ways. 

“Hey.” Josh voice drags Joe’s eyes from his wife and onto the face of his cousin who moves closer, clearly wanting some privacy. “Ya’ll seem good right now.”

It’s such a surface level simple statement with anything but behind it. Joe isn’t entirely sure what word he would use to describe the current nature of dynamics between himself and his legal wife. Good? Sure. Maybe. However, it’s all under the umbrella of kayfabe almost. It’s a bit of a facade. They’re only good right now because she can’t remember that they haven’t been anything remotely close to that for some time now.

Because of a lot of reasons.

Because of him. 

Because of her.

Because of it. 

And, on some level, right now, in this moment, Joe can get past all of that. Himself. Her. But, what he can’t and has never really been able to get past is that.

He’s not sure he ever will.

How anyone can, really. 

The sound of singing pulls him from his heavy thoughts, Joe sitting on the lyrics, a fitting selection, one his wife sings so freely and easily. 

I hate myself for loving you

Can't break free from the the things that you do

I wanna walk but I run back to you

That's why I hate myself for loving you

The fucking irony.

But, while she seems deep in fun, laughter, and enjoyment, Joe experiences anything but, those similar feelings from last night returning as he excuses himself and steps outside, out back, away from all the noise of it all.

He blows out a deep breath, leaning back against the brick of the establishment, sounding out the new type of noise. Outside. Cars beeping. Faint voices of people in the distance. Sounds of nature. All preferred over everything else happening internally.

It’s no secret nor can Joe deny that this isn’t nice, that it hasn’t been nice in the less than 24hrs that he’s been reunited with his wife. He didn’t think twice when she asked to go on the road with him, but now, in the midst of it, at the very beginning of it, he’s not sure if it was the best thing. For her, sure. For him? Not so much.

He’s missed her. 

But, he’s angry with her.

He enjoys having her around.

But, she’s also a constant reminder. 

He once thought he hated her.

But, God, does he love her.

It’s all such contradictory, confusing things that he doesn’t know how to sort through. Ideally, it would be done through communication, but that’s not an option. Even before the accident. The few times they’ve tried to talk about it, about all of it, has always ended horrifically bad, with days—sometimes longer—passing before they spoke again, and usually because of a shared event. Not because they wanted to.

The accident though, her memory loss, has created a new barrier. 

On one hand, he wants to make new memories, see this as a sort of fresh start for both of them.

But, what good, sustainable thing can come from a lie?

It’s part of the reason he’s in this shitshow in the first place.

“Hey.” 

Once again ripped from all consuming thoughts, Joe is partially taken back by the view of his frowning wife standing before him. Her arms are crossed as she steps closer, asking gently, “are you alright?”

No. Far from it. Nothing is alright, and it hasn’t been for a while.

“Yeah,” he lies. Such an easy thing these days, even though it eats him up on the inside. “Just…tired.”

Her frown deepening, his lie clearly working. “Guess it didn’t help that I kept you up, huh?”

Joe chuckles quietly, answering while looking down at his Nike’s. “I’ve been tired for a while now, Ri.” 

Not a lie.

Not a lie at all.

She takes a deep breath. “Well, tonight after your show, I’ll make sure you get some rest.”

Slightly curious by her plan, he asks, brow lifted, “oh? And just how do you plan to do that?”

She answers it so easily, without thought. “I’ll just drug you.” Joe just stares at her, eyes widening just a bit, thus her eyes as wide as saucers. “Wait. Not….not like that.” 

At that point, he’s laughing and shaking his head. “Then what do you mean, sweetheart?”

“Like…..like I’ll give you one of my Benadryls that my mom insisted that I take with me. You pop one in, and bam, you’ll be out like a light.”

“And, if I get randomly drug tested?”

Her eyes, somehow, widen even more. “Shit, I didn’t even think about that. Damn. Can’t have you going to WWE jail.” He chuckles. “I’m sor—”

“Relax,” he advises, stepping closer to her, pushing one of her twists over her shoulders. “I’m just fucking with you.”

She glares, shoving him on his arm. “Asshole.” 

Ri’s hands somehow move to his chest, his to her hips, the closeness of them a stark contrast to the distance he felt and wanted not even minutes prior.

Her smile is small, her head craned back, the urge to do something not done genuinely in so long has never been so strong.

“I’m glad I came,” she murmurs, fingers grasping at his hoodie the same way her words grasp at him.

Joe swallows, unable to resist reciprocating her sentiments that are very much mutual, even with all his inner turmoil. “So am I.”

Because he is. Because behind all the mess and webs that have covered their relationship, their marriage, he is happy to have her back with him. To have some sense of how the way things used to be restored. He’s not sure for how long, if it will continue to play out the way it is so far, if any of this will even mean anything once her memories return, but in this moment, none of that matters. When her hand slides down to clasp and connect with his, her fingers intertwined, her smile soft as she holds onto his arm while he guides them back into the restaurant, it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter at all.  

Especially what with Joe ignoring the buzz of his phone in his pocket, texts that lay out an uncomfortable truth.

A warning.

[m-robinavitch]

for thirst thursday, may i request either ❛ i'm not jealous. you're just mine. ❜ or ❛ you're mine. and don't you forgot it. ❜ with mister robinavitch, please? 🥺

finishing up thirsty thursday/freak nasty friday!

and these were too good I had to combine them!

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Robby was a patient man- to a point. You both understood the arrangement you had. You were a resident and he was your senior attending- you’re sure there were at least three different sections in the employee handbook that forbade this kind of relationship but when you were underneath Robby and five orgasms in? It was so fucking hard to care. And it only made you more annoyed- because the new emergency surgery attending was able to flirt with him openly. She was able to touch his arm when he told a bad joke and throw her head back and- he let her.

So you let the EMT have your number when he asked later that day, young and goofy but cute and was giving you the attention that you craved. You weren’t gonna call- you just needed that reassurance that you were desirable. That you weren’t something to be ashamed of or hide. Even if you knew Robby couldn’t help the situation you were both in- you were mad and spiteful at the fact that he still flirted with her at all. So when he cornered you in the supply room you rolled your eyes- telling him jealousy was an ugly color on him and completely ignoring the fact that jealousy was the reason you started this fight in the first place. He had you pressed up against the wall- hand just teasing underneath your scrub top, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin with his forehead pressed against your own.

“I’m not jealous sweetheart, you're just mine,” his words were soft, but sharp like he was stating a fact. Stupid fucking possessive man. Getting into a fight over someone flirting with you and yet he expected you to what? To watch him turn every color of crimson available when some pretty attending tells him he looks like he’s been working out. The worst part was that if you continued, if you let him kiss you- you’d give in and forget this whole situation. So you scoff- shove past him out of the room before your heart and pussy could make your decisions for you. But he didn’t let you get far. Easily he grabbed you by your bicep- pulling you deeper into the room before shoving you back against the wall and pressed a thick strong thigh between your legs to keep you from leaving.

“Talk to me sweetheart,” despite his rough and frustrated disposition- Robby wanted to know what he could do to fix this. He saw the way your face dropped when he was being fawned over- saw the way you bit your lip in anger and turned before you could see him reject her advances. He didn’t even say sorry when he said he was taken- he had nothing to apologize to her for. But he had everything to apologize to you for. Slowly his hand dipped under your waistband, already familiar with the path to your aching pussy and smiling when you give in so easily to him. “Tell me what’s wrong.” His voice remained strong- groaning just a bit when he felt your wetness and starting slow circles around your clit. It was like a stress reliever. Once he touched you the floodgates opened and you were mumbling about how you hated seeing him flirt with her and how unfair it was that you couldn’t openly be together- and every word was a whimper and whine while Robby’s thick fingers worked you the way he knew you liked.

“Is that why you gave that EMT your number?” Robby’s voice was harsher now, fingers dipping down to tease your entrance while his thumb continued the slow steady circles around your clit. His other hand came up to grab your jaw- to force you to look up into his eyes while you nod and tell him yes. Yes you wanted to make him jealous. That’s cute. You think he’d be intimidated by a kid. A kid who probably couldn’t make your pussy clench like Robby could- groaning when a second fingers joined in on the rubbing against that spot inside your wet pussy that he’s come to know so well. So well, in fact, that he knew you were seconds away from cumming. “You’re mine, and don't you forget it, okay sweetheart?” His fingers stopped- hand pulling itself away from your cunt as he gave a mean laugh when you whined at him. He’ll remind you again tonight.

[buttercandy16]

The Nanny

PAIRING(s): Nanny!Agatha Harkness x Reader

SUMMARY: A mysterious nanny enters a fractured household, bringing comfort, chaos, and desire in her wake.

WARNING(s): Dark themes, Cheating, Nsfw

A/N: Should I write some sort of prequel but in Agatha's POV?

Tip Jar 💜

The storm hit the night Agatha Harkness arrived.

Rain clawed at the windows like something desperate trying to get in, thunder growling low behind the hills. You stood on the front porch with your husband beside you, both of you watching the black car roll up the driveway. In the backseat, a silhouette sat poised, still—like she belonged in a portrait.

You weren’t sure what you expected. But not her.

She stepped out, heels tapping the soaked pavement, umbrella tucked beneath one arm. Dark hair curled neatly around her face, her long coat cinched tight at the waist like a secret. Her lips were wine red. Eyes, a storm of their own.

"Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N," she said in a low, velvet voice. "I'm Agatha. Thank you for having me."

Your husband shook her hand first. You watched how Agatha smiled at him—friendly, professional. Her gaze slid over to you next. It lingered.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you," she said, voice soft but deliberate.

Something about the way she said you made your stomach stir.

Agatha moved into the guest room on the second floor, across the hall from your son's nursery. She unpacked quickly, efficiently. By dinner, she’d already soothed your toddler’s tantrum, folded the laundry you hadn’t touched in two days, and remembered your dog’s name.

She was… perfect. Unsettlingly so.

Your husband noticed too, but not in the way you did. You saw the way his brow lifted as Agatha laughed at his jokes. He never looked at you like that anymore.

“She’s good,” he said that night as you both lay in bed. “The agency sent us a miracle.”

You didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the ceiling. For some reason, you couldn’t stop thinking of the way Agatha had adjusted your necklace earlier that evening, her fingers brushing the back of your neck as you stood frozen in the hallway.

“She’s a little weird,” you muttered.

“Huh?”

You turned on your side. “Nothing.”

Over the next week, Agatha became a fixture. Morning coffee. Afternoon walks. Dinner prep. She read stories with a voice like honey, cooked like she’d known your kitchen better than you did, and handled your son with a tenderness you hadn't felt in ages.

Too tender, maybe.

She often touched your arm in passing. Smiled when you caught her staring. She never once slipped up in front of your husband. But when it was just the two of you—when he was out for work and your son napped upstairs—Agatha spoke with a different cadence. Slower. Intimate.

“Motherhood suits you,” she said one afternoon, eyes following your every move as you prepared a bottle in the kitchen. “There’s a softness in you most women lose when they marry the wrong man.”

You froze. The bottle slipped from your hand and bounced in the sink.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” she said with a soft laugh. “But you’re always tense when he’s home. You relax when it’s just us. Have you noticed?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

That night, you stood outside Agatha’s door. You had no idea why.

She opened it before you could knock. Almost like she’d been waiting.

“I—uh… I was just checking—”

Agatha smiled slowly, pulling her robe tighter around her waist. Her collarbones peeked out, pale in the moonlight, a wisp of lavender perfume curling into your nose.

“Everything’s fine,” she murmured. “But thank you for coming.”

You couldn’t sleep after that. You lay in bed next to your husband, heartbeat loud in your ears.

Her voice. Her scent. Her gaze. They haunted the dark. And deep in your gut… you weren’t afraid of her.

You were afraid of yourself.

Your husband left early the next morning.

Another client meeting. Another “emergency” out of town. Another kiss on your cheek like routine—dry, thoughtless. You stood in the doorway in your robe, clutching your mug, watching his car disappear into the mist. Your son wailed somewhere upstairs.

Behind you, the sound of soft slippers. And then her voice, velvet-smooth.

“I can take him today,” Agatha said. “You look like you need rest.”

You blinked at her.

She wasn’t even dressed yet, just her silken nightgown and a long robe trailing like ink down her figure. But her hair was already brushed. Her lips pink. Calm. Beautiful.

You swallowed. “No, it’s okay. I—”

“I insist.” Her hand found your wrist and gently turned your mug. “You’re shaking.”

You hadn’t realized it. But you were.

She leaned in, her voice close to your ear. “Take a bath. A long one. I’ll handle everything.”

You sank into the tub fifteen minutes later, the house unusually quiet.

Agatha’s presence downstairs was a strange comfort. She sang to your son while she cooked. You recognized the tune. A lullaby your mother used to sing. But you hadn’t told Agatha that.

You let it go.

The warmth of the water began to ease your nerves. You closed your eyes, leaned back, and for the first time in weeks, just breathed.

Until you heard it. A soft knock on the door.

Before you could answer, it creaked open.

Agatha stood in the threshold.

“Sorry,” she said. “I brought you this.”

She held out a glass of red wine. You blinked at her, startled, more by her gaze than the intrusion. Her eyes dragged over the bubbles, your exposed collarbone, your bare knees. But her smile didn’t waver.

“Figured you’d need something to help you let go.”

You took the glass. Your fingers brushed. Her hand lingered. She didn’t leave.

“Agatha…”

“You look beautiful like this.” Her voice was low, reverent.

You froze.

“You always look beautiful. But now… raw. Real. Soft.” She tilted her head. “It’s a shame he doesn’t see you.”

You stared at her, your heart pounding in your chest.

“That’s not—”

“He doesn’t touch you. Not anymore.” Her eyes flicked downward. “Does he?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Silence.

“I know what desire looks like, sweetheart,” she said. “And it’s not in his eyes.”

Her words hit you like a slap, but they didn’t feel cruel. They felt… true. Shameful. Exposed. She wasn’t mocking. She was mourning it with you.

Her hand touched your cheek. Soft. Warm. Familiar.

“You deserve to be seen.”

You didn’t pull away.

You told yourself it was the wine.

That’s what you blamed for letting her kiss you in the hallway an hour later, with your back to the nursery door. Your son was asleep. The house was silent. Your mouth found hers in the dark.

It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t wild.

It was slow.

Her lips were patient, fingers cradling your jaw, her body pressed against yours like she’d been waiting for this. Like she’d known all along that you’d eventually break.

And she made it feel like breaking was okay.

When she finally pulled back, your hands still gripped her waist. Her breath fanned your lips.

“You kissed me,” she whispered.

“I didn’t mean to,” you rasped.

“But you did.”

She leaned her forehead against yours. “And I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I’m married,” you whispered.

“You’re lonely.”

Her thumb traced your bottom lip.

“Let me take care of you,” she said. “Let me be what he isn’t.”

That night, you lay in bed alone.

Your husband sent a text. Meeting went late. Staying at a hotel. Love you.

You didn’t respond.

Down the hall, Agatha’s door was closed. You stared at it in the dark.

You had crossed a line.

And yet—your heart thudded every time her voice echoed in your mind.

“You deserve to be seen.”

You woke to sunlight pouring in through half-open curtains.

The bed beside you was still cold. Empty.

The pillow barely smelled like him anymore.

You sat up, wrapping the duvet around your body like a shield. Your head ached—not from wine, but from memory. That kiss. The weight of Agatha’s touch. The way she’d looked at you like she knew every inch of your sadness. Like she’d studied it. Wanted it.

A low sound echoed from the hall—a laugh.

Your son’s.

You rose, slipping into your robe, and followed the sound to the kitchen.

Agatha stood by the stove, hair pulled into a messy braid, barefoot, wearing one of your aprons. She was flipping pancakes while your son sat at the table, happily chewing on strawberries.

She looked up and saw you.

Her smile bloomed like she'd been waiting all morning just to see your face.

“Morning, mama,” she said sweetly. “He’s already had his milk, but he wanted to wait for you before eating pancakes.”

Your son giggled and waved his fork at you.

“Mama sleepy,” he said.

You felt your heart clench.

“Yeah,” you replied, staring at Agatha. “I guess I was.”

She slid the pancakes onto a plate, placed it gently in front of your seat, and poured you coffee without asking how you liked it. She already knew.

You sat down. The smell of cinnamon filled the air. Your son talked between bites. Agatha laughed with him, made silly faces. She was good. Too good. She made this morning feel like something it wasn’t—a family breakfast. Something whole.

But it wasn’t real.

Your gaze found hers over the steam of your coffee.

Last night had happened.

And the weight of that truth sat heavy in your chest.

Later that day

You were folding laundry in your bedroom when you heard a soft knock.

“Come in,” you called.

Agatha stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

“He’s sleeping,” she said, meaning your son. “Tired himself out after lunch.”

You nodded, distractedly smoothing out one of his shirts. “Thanks for handling everything.”

She didn’t answer.

When you looked up, she was watching you—intensely, darkly. Her arms crossed over her chest.

“Are we going to talk about last night?” she asked.

You froze.

“I shouldn’t have—”

“Stop.” She stepped forward. “Don’t lie to me. Not now. I felt you melt in my hands. You wanted it.”

You swallowed, the shirt crumpling in your grasp.

“I’m married,” you whispered. “It was a mistake.”

She tilted her head, slow and deliberate.

“Was it a mistake when your lips parted for me?” she asked. “Was it a mistake when your hands clung to me like you were drowning?”

You turned away, throat burning.

“I can’t do this.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper behind you. “But you already did.”

You felt her hands slide around your waist. Her breath brushed your ear.

“Let me make you feel it again.”

You didn’t stop her when she turned you in her arms.

You didn’t stop her when she kissed you—slow, hungry, consuming. Your lips parted for her, unthinking, your robe falling to the floor. She touched you like she owned you, like she knew the places your husband had long forgotten.

Her hands were firm as they pushed you gently onto the bed, fingers trailing down your thighs, coaxing your knees apart.

“You’ve been starving,” she murmured, her mouth brushing your stomach. “No one’s tasted this softness in so long, have they?”

Your skin prickled. You shook your head, ashamed, aroused.

“Then let me feed.”

She kissed her way down your belly, her hands holding your hips firm as her mouth dipped lower—pressing, parting, devouring.

You gasped, arching, one hand tangled in the sheets, the other gripping her hair. She moaned against you like she’d waited her whole life for this moment. She didn’t stop. Not even when your legs trembled. Not even when you cried out, overwhelmed.

Her voice was husky as she kissed her way back up.

“Tell me he’s never made you feel like that,” she whispered, brushing your cheek.

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

Agatha smirked, kissing you again—deeper this time. Possessive.

“Good girl.”

Later

You lay in her arms in the silence that followed.

She was tracing circles on your bare shoulder, humming something soft.

And for the first time in months, you didn’t feel alone.

What you didn’t see—what you’d never see—was the unlocked phone in her pocket. The one holding every private message between your husband and that blonde coworker of his. The one she’d quietly photographed from his laptop three nights ago.

Tomorrow, you’d see those messages.

You’d cry.

And Agatha would be there.

Not just as the nanny anymore.

But as the only one left who loved you.

You didn’t cry right away.

Not when you saw the first message.

Not when the word “baby” flashed beside your husband’s name, sent not to you—but to her.

It was the timestamp that shattered you.

Ten days ago.

The same night he’d told you he was “too tired” for dinner.

Agatha didn’t say anything as you scrolled, your breath hitching. She didn’t have to. She sat on the edge of the couch beside you, her hand resting lightly over yours, her presence warm—anchoring. Like a shadow waiting to catch the pieces.

Your fingers shook.

Photos. Messages. Voice notes.

You wanted to vomit.

“I—I don’t understand…” Your voice broke. “We were fine. I thought we were—”

“He was never fine.” Her tone was soft, controlled. She reached up and gently tucked your hair behind your ear. “You were just too good to see it.”

You blinked, hot tears falling without permission.

“How did you even—?”

“I didn’t want to show you. But I had to. You needed to see the truth.”

Your body crumpled. You turned into her chest like a child, sobbing as her arms wrapped around you, secure and steady. She let you cry. She kissed the top of your head, whispered soothing things you didn’t even process.

It was agony.

And she made it tender.

Three days later

Your husband tried to explain.

He came home reeking of panic and desperation.

“Don’t do this,” he begged as you handed him the suitcase. “I made a mistake, but this—”

Agatha stood in the hallway with her arms crossed, watching silently.

You didn’t say a word.

You were already too far gone.

That night, Agatha lit candles in your bedroom.

Not for romance, but for silence.

She pressed a warm cloth to your face, wiped away the tears, and then brushed your hair in long, patient strokes. You sat still on the edge of the bed, hollow, your robe draped around your shoulders.

“You don’t have to be strong anymore,” she said.

You closed your eyes.

“I feel… stupid.”

“You’re not.” Her voice was firmer now. “You were loyal. That’s rare.”

She leaned down, her hands on your knees. Her face was inches from yours.

“Let me show you what devotion really looks like.”

You didn’t resist when she gently pushed you back into the mattress, not this time.

Her touch was different now—not teasing, not coaxing. It was reverent. Worshipful. She moved over you slowly, like she was learning you from scratch. Memorizing the shape of your grief, the curve of your loneliness, and kissing every inch of it into submission.

She whispered praise into your skin, her mouth at your throat.

“You’re beautiful when you’re breaking.”

Her hands spread your thighs apart like a prayer, and she looked up at you as she leaned in.

“Let me rebuild you.”

Her tongue was slow. Torturous. She lapped at you with methodical control, her moans low and needy, as if she were starving for you and you alone. Every whimper from your mouth was met with more pressure, more worship, more control.

She didn’t stop until your cries echoed off the bedroom walls.

She didn’t let you go until your nails left marks on her shoulders.

After, when you lay boneless beneath her, she pulled you into her lap—naked, still wet, her fingers tracing the outline of your lips.

She kissed you gently.

“You don’t need anyone else anymore,” she murmured. “You have me.”

You nodded, dazed.

And meant it.

Later That Night

You curled against her chest in the dark, drunk on touch. On comfort.

Agatha stroked your back. Her voice barely above a whisper.

“You were never his to hurt.”

You felt yourself drifting.

“I’m yours now,” you mumbled, unaware of the weight of those words.

Agatha smiled into your hair.

“Exactly.”

She kissed your temple, and held you tighter.

And somewhere in the deepest part of your bones, you didn’t feel afraid.

You felt kept.

One Month Later

The house was quieter now.

No shouting. No accusations. No wandering glances from your husband while you looked away. No child’s cries echoing unanswered down the halls because you were too exhausted to chase them.

It was just you, your son… and Agatha.

She handled everything.

The meals. The school pickups. The bills. The legal filings your ex tried to contest.

When the documents were too stressful to read, she held you in her lap and whispered through them, one line at a time.

You never had to lift a finger.

“Sweetheart, eat,” she’d say. “Let me take care of it.”

So you let her. You let her handle things. Because what other choice did you have?

She was the only one who stayed.

You didn’t even notice when your friends stopped calling.

Or when she quietly blocked your mother’s number.

You didn’t want to talk to anyone. The outside world only reminded you of everything that fell apart. Everyone who turned their back.

But Agatha didn’t.

She stayed. She always stayed.

That Night

Your bed wasn’t your bed anymore—it was hers now. Or maybe both of yours. You couldn’t remember when she moved into your room. It just sort of happened.

The scent of her—smoke, lavender, clove—lingered in your sheets. Her clothes hung in your closet beside yours. Her perfume rested on your vanity. Her hairbrush replaced yours. Little things. Little shifts.

Now you woke to her lips on your shoulder. To the press of her thigh between yours.

She made love to you in the dark like you were sacred. Like she’d spent lifetimes waiting to earn you.

“You’re mine now, darling,” she whispered that night, drawing slow circles over your hips. “And you love it, don’t you?”

You nodded, gasping into her mouth.

You did love it.

She worshipped your body like it was the last thing on earth worth touching. Her hands coaxed sobs from you—not from sadness anymore, but from need.

From the unbearable way she wanted you.

You cried when you came. She kissed the tears off your cheeks.

“You’re safe,” she murmured, holding you tight. “You’re perfect. You don’t need anyone but me.”

Agatha took you apart with patience. With obsession. Her mouth between your thighs, tongue slow and cruel, as though she savored the taste of your unraveling. You clutched at the sheets, at her hair, your moans broken and hoarse.

“Please…” you whispered, barely able to breathe.

“Please what?” Her voice was like velvet and venom. She sucked your clit softly. “Say it.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Mmm. That’s right.”

She made you beg. Twice.

Then she flipped you over, pinning your hips down, spreading your legs wider until you arched into her hand. You could barely process how deep her fingers went, how tight her other hand held your throat, gentle but firm.

“You belong to me now,” she whispered, lips ghosting against your ear. “Say it.”

“I—I belong to you—”

She rewarded you with more.

More pressure. More heat.

More of the dark, aching pleasure that made your legs tremble and your soul fold.

The Morning After

She fed you breakfast in bed.

Kissed your forehead before your son came into the room. Hugged him like a second mother. He didn’t even remember your husband anymore.

“I love you, Agatha,” your son said quietly that morning, sitting beside her.

Agatha smiled, brushing his hair.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

You watched them.

And you smiled too.

Later That Day

Your ex called again. You didn’t answer.

“Shall I deal with him?” Agatha asked gently, standing beside the couch with her phone in hand.

You didn’t ask what she meant by deal.

You simply nodded.

That was the last time he ever contacted you.

That night, Agatha bathed you slowly. Her hands were gentle. Her voice was quiet. She cradled your body in the warm water like you were glass.

“You don’t ever have to go back,” she whispered. “You don’t ever have to wonder if you’re enough again.”

You looked up at her.

“You really love me?”

Her eyes darkened. “More than you’ll ever know.”

She kissed you, deeply.

And when she led you to bed again, you didn’t resist.

You opened yourself to her completely.

Mind, body, soul.

Everything was hers now.

Just the way she planned.

You had everything.

A quiet home in the countryside, a son who smiled more often now, and a partner who adored you.

Agatha never left your side.

She cooked. Cleaned. Loved you with frightening intensity. And for two years, you thrived in her shadow.

You’d forgotten what it meant to be lonely. Forgotten the sound of your ex’s voice. Forgotten the biting sting of betrayal.

All of that had been washed away.

By Agatha.

You weren’t meant to go upstairs.

Not to the attic. Not to the old study.

Agatha told you once—

“It’s where I keep old documents. Legal things. Nothing interesting, darling.”

And you believed her.

Until today.

She had gone into town.

You stayed behind with your son, who napped after lunch. The house was quiet, filled with golden afternoon light, and something drew you upward.

You weren’t sure what.

Curiosity.

Instinct.

Or a nagging whisper that had been building in the back of your mind ever since that first night she crawled into your bed.

The door was locked.

But you found the spare key in the linen drawer.

Your fingers trembled. Not from fear. Not yet.

From guilt.

You weren’t supposed to be doing this.

The room was… preserved.

It wasn’t dusty or abandoned—it was immaculate.

A single desk. A series of shelves. File boxes.

And photos.

Dozens of photos. On the wall. Hung like a shrine.

All of you.

Candid shots. From months—years—before you even met her.

You standing outside your son’s daycare.

You laughing with your ex-husband on the front lawn.

You grocery shopping. Sleeping in your car.

You… in the shower, through a window.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You stumbled back, eyes wide, a scream forming—

—but then you turned, and saw the center table.

A book.

A journal.

You picked it up, hands shaking. The first page was dated three years ago.

“I saw her today. Her smile is lazy, a little sad. Her son clings to her like a limb. She won’t leave him.

Not yet.

But soon.

I’ve already sent in my resume.”

The next entry:

“The husband is weak. He watches other women when she isn’t looking. I won’t need to try very hard to drive a wedge. She’s already halfway out the door. All she needs is someone who sees her. Someone worthy.

I’m worthy.”

You flipped pages—faster now. Words blurred by panic.

“He tried to touch me. Perfect. She saw. She doesn’t trust him anymore.”

“She cried tonight. I comforted her. I touched her back when she trembled. Her body responds to me. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s mine.”

“He hit her. I made sure of it. She won’t forgive him after that.”

“The custody battle will fail. I called in a favor. She’ll never know what I did. But she’s mine. Finally.”

Your fingers slipped. Pages fell open to a polaroid.

You.

Sleeping, naked, in bed.

Agatha curled around you, watching your face.

You had no memory of the photo.

“You weren’t supposed to find this.”

You jumped.

Agatha stood in the doorway.

Not panicked.

Not sorry.

Just… watching you.

Her hair curled, her blouse crisp. Her eyes dark with something that looked like sorrow. Or possession.

“I—what is this?” you breathed. “How long—how long were you watching me?”

She stepped forward, closing the door behind her.

“Long enough to know you were wasted on that life,” she said quietly. “Long enough to know you needed me.”

“You manipulated me.”

“I saved you.”

Her voice rose, trembling now.

“You were dying in that marriage. You hated yourself. You cried yourself to sleep, and no one heard you but me.”

She touched your face. You flinched.

“You loved that I came. Don’t lie to me now.”

Your lips parted to argue—but you didn’t know what to say.

Because somewhere inside you, a part of you did love her.

Even now.

Even knowing this.

“I gave up everything for you,” she whispered. “And I’d do it again.”

You backed up slowly.

“I need to think—”

“There’s nothing to think about,” she said sharply. “You’re here. With me. Like we were meant to be.”

Your heart pounded.

Her fingers curled around your wrist—not hard. Just enough.

“Don’t make me do something you’ll regret.”

You stared at her.

The woman who raised your son.

The woman who loved you in ways no one else ever had.

The woman who orchestrated your entire downfall.

And somehow…

…you still weren’t sure if you wanted to run.

Or fall into her arms and pretend you’d never opened that door.

You didn’t run.

You could have.

The window was open. The stairs behind you led to freedom.

Your car keys were in your purse, and the road out of town curved toward anonymity and healing.

But you didn’t move.

You stood there—still clutching her journal—your heart a tremoring thing in your chest, and you looked at her.

Agatha.

Beautiful. Unmoving. Terrifying.

And somehow…

The only person who ever truly saw you.

The only one who never turned away.

She stepped closer.

“I know it’s a lot,” she said softly, brushing a curl behind your ear. “But I never lied about how I love you.”

Your throat was tight.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whispered.

“No,” she murmured. “You didn’t have to. I knew you before you even knew yourself. I watched you suffer. I watched him shrink you. And I couldn’t stand it.”

Tears pricked your eyes.

“You broke me.”

“I remade you.”

Her arms wrapped around your waist, slow and certain, like a vice made of silk.

“I fixed everything,” she breathed against your neck. “And all I want… is for you to say thank you.”

You were quiet. Shaking.

Then—slowly—you set the journal down.

You didn’t push her away.

You didn’t scream.

Your hands came up, hesitantly, to rest on her back.

“I… I’m scared,” you confessed, voice trembling.

Agatha kissed the corner of your jaw.

“I know, little dove. But fear doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Sometimes fear is just love… changing you.”

She pressed her forehead to yours.

“I’ll never let you go,” she whispered.

And you knew she meant it.

That night, she made love to you like a woman unchained.

No longer careful. No longer playing the doting nanny or the slow-burn savior.

She devoured you.

Her hands branded your thighs. Her mouth claimed your cries.

She made you beg for her—again and again—until your voice broke and your body trembled from the pleasure she demanded you feel.

“Say you’re mine,” she growled, hips rocking against yours as your legs wrapped around her.

“I’m yours—Agatha—please—”

“Forever,” she bit out, bruising your neck with her teeth. “You belong to me. Say it.”

“I belong to you!”

And when you finally passed out in her arms, sore and ruined and utterly worshipped, she whispered a single word against your skin.

“Finally.”

Years passed.

The room upstairs remained locked.

You never asked about it again.

Agatha never needed to remind you.

You smiled. You baked. You wore her ring.

You raised your son together.

He never remembered the man who used to call himself Dad.

All he knew was Agatha.

Warm. Powerful. Ever-present.

And you?

You belonged to her.

Fully. Willingly.

Maybe even happily.

She won.

And the scariest part was…

So did you.

♡●♡●♡

Please don't forget to like, comment, follow & reblog 💜

[classytiti]

SHOWGIRL

featuring: vamp!stack moore x fem!reader warnings: language, mentions of biting, mentions of abuse titis's note: this one shot took me sooo long to write. I've been working on this for about two weeks so I really hope you all enjoy. don't be afraid to give any feedback, i'm very open to any. Masterlist Here

every night felt like a loop you couldn’t break, living that showgirl life at just twenty-one, too young to feel this tired already. you were the flame eater, the girl with sparks dancing on your tongue, smoke curling from your lips, fire dripping down your throat while the fellas in the front row forgot to breathe. the stage lights would blink on, the piano man would nod like he always did, and you’d toss your hair back, checking your reflection in that cracked mirror one last time before stepping out into the dark with your sequins and your painted-on smile.

your mama used to watch you get ready with that sour look in her eyes, glass in her hand, lip curling around a cigarette while she called you a tease, a show-off, a nothing. maybe she was right, but maybe she was just mad because the world had already forgotten her and hadn’t forgotten you yet. you could still hear her slurring in your head while you were fixing your lipstick, telling you that you’d never be more than your pretty face and hips.

the same perfume clung to the air, heavy and cheap, the same red lipstick smudged on the rim of your water glass backstage, the same old drunks calling out requests they couldn’t afford to tip for. you’d hear that hush before your act, the hush before you opened your mouth and let the fire roll out, letting them think the heat was just for them while you tried not to let your mind drift to how you’d get home, to your mama waiting with her drink and her bitterness.

you’d watch the same eyes follow your flames, the same trouble waiting in every grin, the same tired lines waiting for you when you slipped offstage, clutching your shawl around your shoulders, smoke still in your hair. every night was the same, but you kept showing up, because somehow, under that dim light, sparks crackling on your tongue, it felt like the only place you were alive, even if everything outside that stage stayed the same.

tonight, all you could think about was how bad you needed this money, how every dollar was one step closer to getting away from your mama’s drunk screaming and her jealous eyes watching you like a hawk in that broken-down house. you were already on stage, stick in hand, ready to light it, your hips swaying slow to the piano’s lazy rhythm while you forced your prettiest smile for the men with the fattest wallets. they didn’t see you, not really. all they saw were your hips, your ass, your tits nearly spilling out of that fitted red lace two-piece, your nookie sitting just right under the stage lights, feathers on your back brushing the smoky air like you were some angel sent to torture them.

but it wasn’t until you caught his eye, stack’s eye, that you felt your breath hitch. you’d heard stories about him, whispers traded in the back rooms, girls talking too loud when the liquor hit, stories about how he was dangerous, sinful, the kind of man who smelled like gunpowder and money, the kind of man who never had to lift a finger to get what he wanted. you’d seen him from a distance a few times, but it was different seeing him up close, the way his smirk curled under those golden fangs, the way his shades glinted under the red lights, his tailored black and red suit hugging him like sin, a glass of italian wine in one hand and irish beer in the other like it was nothing.

your mama’s voice was in the back of your head, calling you every dirty name she could think of, telling you you’d end up just like her, washed up and bitter, but she didn’t know her words were the reason you kept going, the reason you swayed your hips a little lower, moved a little slower, eyes locked on stack like he was the only one in the room.

you danced with the flames, let them kiss your skin while your hips rolled, the fire reflecting in his shades, and when you saw his smirk widen, it felt like a small victory. the piano hit its final note, the air thick with cigar smoke and lust, and you ended your dance by swallowing the flames, slow and seductive, letting the heat burn down your throat while you kept your eyes on him. the room exploded in hoots and hollers, bills hitting the stage, but none of it mattered because for one breathless second, it felt like you and stack were the only ones there, the fire still flickering in your chest while he watched you like you were something worth wanting.

you were walking backstage after the show, heels clicking against old wood, your sweat drying beneath the feathers and lace. you were always the quiet one, the kind folks forgot until the fire came out your mouth and the lights caught the curve of your waist. you never lingered, never stayed for small talk or post-show drinks. your mind was already somewhere else, somewhere worse.

you didn’t know how you were gonna deal with your mama when you got home. maybe she’d throw something again, one of her favorite ashtrays, or spit another slur in your direction, eyes glassy and hands twitching with all the rage she never learned to bury. maybe she’d slap you just for breathing, for walking in with makeup on, for making money the only way you knew how. you never knew what version of her you’d get, only that it’d hurt somehow.

but still, all you could think about was him.

stack.

that grin, those golden fangs flashing under the red lights like they belonged to the devil himself. why did he have them? were they just for show? for decoration, intimidation? or did they mean something deeper, something darker?

you had questions, too many of them, swimming through your head while your hands reached behind your back, unpinning the feathers one by one like you were peeling off pieces of your armor. you reached for the laces of your corset, tugged gently, then the curtain rustled.

"play wit' fire, baby," a voice drawled, "you might get burned."

you turned, stiffening before you could think, the last strap of your corset still clutched in your hand. there he was, stack, leaning in the doorway like he owned the damn place. a toothpick hung from his lips, which curled into that same slow, wicked grin. his shades were still on, blacker than the devil’s mood, and you couldn’t see a trace of his eyes behind them.

your throat tightened. for once, you didn’t have a thing to say.

"i know what you thinkin'," he said, taking a lazy step closer, that cocoa butter shine still on his mouth like he’d just finished kissing trouble, "thinkin’ i’m gon’ throw some bills your way, make it rain or some shit. but nah… i got a real offer."

you blinked, arms crossing on instinct, the heat of his presence suddenly thick in the room. "what you tryna say?" you asked, voice low, "if it’s some kinda scheme, i don’t do none of that sneaky mess-"

he cut you off, bold as brass, stepping in like your space was already his.

"woman," he said, voice like honey over gravel, "i see right through you. right through them hips, through that act, through the memories you tryin’ not to carry."

you narrowed your eyes. "then what am i thinkin’, huh?" you shot back, arms still crossed but your pulse giving you away.

he stepped in again, closer now. you could feel the chill off him like stone. cold, unbothered, untouched by the heat you’d just danced through. he smelled like something ancient and dangerous, wine, smoke, something sweet beneath it all.

his lips twitched into something almost like a smirk, almost like a secret.

"you wonderin’ why i got these shades on," he murmured, "why i ain’t takin’ ’em off. wonderin’ what i’m hidin’. thinkin’ ’bout my lips too… wonderin’ how they might taste on that soft skin of yours."

then he whistled low, eyes still veiled, grin still sharp.

and you stood there, corset halfway undone, mouth dry, body pulsing with heat that had nothing to do with fire.

you were used to playing with flames.

but stack?

he was the fire.

you yanked the corset laces tight again, fists pulling with more force than needed, trying to rewrap the protection you’d just peeled off. "you probably say that to every woman up in here," you muttered, eyes narrowing, trying to sound unfazed, unshaken.

but he didn’t let you finish.

he slid those black shades off slow, deliberate, like a promise.

his eyes, god, his eyes.

they weren’t normal. his pupils glowed a soft, unnatural blue, like moonlight trapped under water, alive and pulsing with something you didn’t have a name for. not human. not safe.

you stumbled a step back without meaning to, heart pounding like a kick drum. "what the hell…" you whispered.

but he didn’t blink.

"i know that drunk of a mama you got waitin’ at home ain’t gon’ do nothin’ but fuck you up again," he said, calm, even, like he was reciting something he’d known your whole life, "know your money tight. know you here ‘cause you got nowhere else to go. don’t gotta lie about it, i see it."

he stepped around you slow, like a lion circling prey, reaching past your shoulder for a bottle of irish beer that someone had left on the table behind you. you flinched, instinctively pulling away.

he noticed. of course he did.

but all he did was crack the cap off with one hand, raise it to his lips, and take a sip like it was a summer drink, like he hadn’t just read your entire soul out loud.

"won’t be long for you," he said, licking the foam off his bottom lip, "especially not in this place."

you didn’t say a word. couldn’t. his words were getting in, deeper than they should’ve, deeper than you wanted them to.

"i can make it so you stick around," he continued, voice smooth again, rich and dangerous, "no runnin’. no worryin’ ‘bout mama, or rent, or gettin’ jumped on the walk home."

he leaned in, his grin returning, sharp and certain like he’d already won.

"keep dancin'," he said, "keep livin’. no pain."

"i… i-on know, stack. i—" you stammered, your voice trembling like your hands, like your knees that suddenly didn’t feel strong enough to hold the weight of your life anymore.

flashes came fast, your mama’s slurred screaming, the bruise she left last week still fading along your ribs. your daddy’s back when he walked out and never came back. the nights you went hungry. the nights you prayed to a god that never answered. every awful thing that built the girl standing here now, undone by too much pain and too little mercy.

stack put the beer down with a soft clink, the sound almost gentle in the heavy silence. his movements were slow, sure, like he already knew you weren’t going anywhere.

he reached for you.

you didn’t pull away.

his hand wrapped around yours, warm, grounding. then he slid it up, past your wrist, your bare arm, until his fingers cradled the nape of your neck. his thumb brushed the edge of your jaw, and you shivered, not from fear but from the sudden absence of it.

"see you in my future too," he murmured, "i can help… in ways you never even knew was possible."

his golden fangs caught the low light, glinting like treasure and danger all at once.

that’s when you knew.

you knew what he was.

a vampire.

not a man. not exactly. not mortal. but something other, something ancient, powerful, magnetic.

you’d always hoped maybe an angel would come save you, maybe some soft-handed preacher man with a white smile and clean clothes. you never imagined salvation would look like this.

like him.

as his lips neared your neck, heat pooled deep in your belly. your eyes fluttered shut, breath catching in your throat. you didn’t move. didn’t scream. didn’t run.

you let it happen.

because part of you wanted it.

"shh," he whispered, breath warm against your throat, "you gon’ be alright now. we gon’ have heaven right here on earth, baby."

then it happened.

a sharp sting, then pressure, his fangs sliding into your skin like silk, like fire, like fate.

your eyes flew open, mouth parted in a soft gasp as your body arched into him, instinctively searching for something to hold onto. a low whimper left your lips, barely audible, but it was real. you couldn’t breathe right. couldn’t think straight.

the pain was fleeting.

the warmth that followed was not.

he kissed your neck, wet and slow, over the fresh wound, his lips tender where he had just broken you open. you felt the pulse between you shift, your heart slowing, your blood thick with something you couldn’t name.

then the world began to tilt.

your vision blurred, colors smearing like paint in water. your knees buckled, and everything went quiet.

but before you could hit the floor, he caught you.

strong arms, fast as shadows, held you like you were something fragile, something his now.

he cradled you against his chest, thumb stroking your cheek as your head rolled onto his shoulder. the scent of him, wine, smoke, something wild, wrapped around you like velvet.

"there she go," he whispered against your temple, "you mine now, baby. ain’t nobody gon’ hurt you no more."

and as the darkness took you under, soft and slow, all you could think was:

maybe this was the kind of death you’d been waiting for.

you didn’t know how long you were out. time didn’t feel real anymore, just a soft blur, like smoke curling in candlelight. there was no pain. no screaming. just a slow warmth that dripped through your bones like honey, melting away everything that ever hurt.

when you opened your eyes, everything was… different.

the ceiling above you was unfamiliar, ornate, carved wood with candlelight dancing across it. velvet curtains swayed in the breeze, and somewhere far off, jazz played low and syrupy, like the world had slowed to half its speed.

your body felt light. too light. like gravity forgot you.

and when you sat up, blinking against the golden glow of the room, stack was already there, lounging in a chair beside the bed, still dressed sharp in red and black, fangs flashing as he bit into a fresh peach, the juice dripping down his fingers.

he looked at you like a man looks at a miracle.

"told you," he murmured, licking the juice from his knuckle, "you was gon’ be alright."

you stared at him, heart strangely still. too still.

your breath caught as you realized, you weren’t breathing at all.

panic gripped your chest for a second, but it passed quick, replaced by something else. a hunger, deep and smooth and slow-burning in your belly. not fear. not regret.

hunger.

you slipped off the bed, bare feet touching the cool floor. the silk robe draped around your shoulders felt like air. every sound in the room rang clearer. you could hear the vinyl crackling from the record player. the fizz of a bottle being uncorked in the next room. stack’s heartbeat, slow and steady, like a bass drum.

you moved without trying. graceful. fluid. like your body had always belonged to something more than skin and bones.

"come here," stack said, voice low, eyes locked on yours like he could see through to everything you were now.

you stepped toward him. didn’t even think about it.

"you feel it, don’t you?" he asked.

you nodded slowly. "everything."

he smiled. not his usual smirk, this one was softer. almost reverent.

"ain’t no pain now. no past. no mama. no fear," he whispered, "just this. just us."

your eyes fell to his mouth. the way his fangs peeked through. you remembered the sting. the way it felt like dying and being reborn in the same breath.

and now here you were.

reborn.

a flame no longer caged to a stage.

he stood up, came close, and tilted your chin gently with two fingers. "you ready to feed?" he asked.

you didn’t speak. just smiled, your first smile in what felt like years. it curled slow across your face, soft and dangerous.

"i was born ready," you whispered.

and when he opened the door to that dark, velvet-draped world, you walked through it like it was your stage, only now, you weren’t performing.

you were living.

you were hunger.

you were heat.

you were fire reborn in blood and shadow.

you were finally free.

and the world would never forget your name again.

[burningember0802]

Three's Company Ch. 7

A/N: I am so sorry for how long it took to get this chapter out! It's been super busy and for some reason I haven't had the motivation to write for this right this second but I got it eventually! I start school again in a few weeks and it's likely that my writing frequency is likely to go down drastically due to drowning in chemistry work and papers but I will try my best.

I know this chapter is super long compared to previous ones but I didn't have a good place to stop until then and just got going. I'm hoping to possibly get the next chapter out by early next week at the latest (Don't quote me on that.) This chapter might be the second to last chapter with the next one being the final one. I plan on writing one shots for this throuple that takes place in this universe but am hoping to finish up their main storyline soon.

We're also going to ignore the fact that Robby and Jack having the same string of days off is like impossible since the only attendings we know of is them and Shen so we're going to act like there's a 4th secret attending we don't know about. Okay? Okay. Great

Warnings: sexual content in some chapters, cursing, medical inaccuracies, suicidal tendencies, mention of death, PTSD, yelling, heavy angst, domestic violence(let me know if I'm missing anything!)

Words: 3k

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After your shift from hell you just wanted to collapse into bed and not leave it for days. Unfortunately that’s just not how life works so you force yourself up the stairs to your apartment after Jack drops you off, each step feeling like you’re carrying 50 lbs on your back, your body ready to just collapse. When you get into your apartment you flick off your shoes, not caring where they go and drop your bag on the kitchen table with a loud thud. You shuffle over to the fridge, praying you have something quick to eat so you can hurry up and go to bed. You have nothing of actual substance, especially since you’re more than due to go to the store and decide to settle for cereal. What’s more of a mental breakdown meal than cereal for dinner at almost 8 pm? You sit and eat your cereal at the table in silence, the only sounds in the small apartment are the sounds of your chewing and your air running, the rattling filling the space. 

You force yourself into the shower after, discarding your dirty scrubs on the floor for tomorrow you to deal with. You force yourself to do the bare minimum and eat and shower before collapsing into bed because you know you’ll regret it tomorrow if you don’t. When you finally flop into the comfort of your own bed it feels like your body weighed a thousand pounds. You just stare at the ceiling for a little bit, your mind feeling numb and your body exhausted from the day. Eventually you curl up into bed, forcing yourself into a fitful night of sleep. 

You didn’t have the luxury of getting to rot in bed the next day despite how badly you wanted to, having another day of working the day shift the next morning. You wake up from a fitful sleep the next morning feeling just as exhausted as you were when you went to sleep. You grumble to yourself as you get ready and head out the door, not eating breakfast or making coffee since you were already running late. You walk into the ER for your shift as normal, putting your things up in the lockers before finding your way to the nurses station, collapsing into one of the chairs for a minute before your shift starts. Jack sees you at the nurses station and comes and leans his hip against the counter next to you. “You look like shit kid” He says softly, not wanting to startle you. You look up at him with your exhaustion evident on your face. “I feel like shit.” You mutter. “Lucky for you, Robby’s on his way with coffee and breakfast. That’s why he’s late.” He tells you with a small smile. You look at him in confusion, not expecting the gesture. “For me?” Jack nods in response. “He thought you’d need it after yesterday. Our treat.” You just look at him for a second, your brain too exhausted to comprehend what this could mean. 

Luckily Robby shows up at the perfect time, saving you from having to respond. He walks in with a bag in one hand and a drink carrier with a few coffees in the other, sunglasses on his nose. He joins you and Jack at the nurses station before nodding towards the elevator. “Come join us for breakfast while we do handover?” Robby asks with a nervous smile on his face. You couldn't see his eyes under the sunglasses at the moment but you knew the corner of his eyes were crinkling where his crow's feet were, a part of him you loved, the lines formed from years of smiling and laughing. You nod and stand up to join the two of them on the roof. Jack takes the coffees from Robby with a smile and Robby takes off his sunglasses and puts them in the side pocket of his bag while the three of you walk to the elevator. The ride up was filled with a comfortable silence, all three of you knowing all of you needed a minute to breathe. When you guys finally reach the roof you guys all settle down leaning against the railing. You're handed a coffee, just the way you liked, of course he remembered, and a breakfast sandwich. You just sat there in silence for a little, listening to the two men talk while you ate. Jack and Robby were chatting while eating, discussing the patients still in the ER and such.

After a little one of the men finally dares to ask the question that had been eating at their minds. "When do you want to talk about stuff?" Robby asks you softly, bringing your attention back to the conversation. "Um…I'm off tomorrow, I need to get groceries in the morning since I quite literally have nothing in my house right now but after that?" You reply, slightly nervous. The two men feel a rush of relief at your response, glad you were open to talking to them still and glad you were joking with them a little again. They missed it a lot, they missed you a lot, more than they would care to admit. "Tomorrow's perfect. I think it starts the string of days off for all of us." Jack explains, his eyes on you. The thought of talking with them about everything makes the anxiety in the pit of your stomach grow more but you know you need to do this sooner rather than later.

You nod, confirming that tomorrow should work for all of you. "Do you want to meet at one of our places or in public?" Robby questions, eyes also on you. Both men looked somewhat concerned and it felt like you were under a spotlight. You think about it for a second, staring at the ground far below the three of you. "I think we should meet in public, I think that's the best right now." You say quietly, scared to look at their reactions. Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel Jack's hand on the small of your back, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb. You were surprised by his touch, tensing slightly at first but then immediately relaxing under his firm but gentle touch. "Public sounds good…there's this little cafe not too far from here that has really good pastries and coffee. I think you'd like it." Jack says, his usually stern eyes soft. "You could text us after your done shopping and stuff and then we can meet there?" Robby adds, leaning down against the railing so he can look at you in the face. "That's sounds good." You murmur, voice barely above a whisper. They could tell you were nervous but this needed to happen. Things needed to be set straight between the three of you, once and for all.

"We should probably get back down there before someone thinks we actually jumped off." You chuckle softly, the two men joining you. The air between the three of you still felt tense but it wasn't in a bad way, like something on the edge of greatness. The three of you chatted for a minute longer before you and Robby said your goodbyes to Jack so he could finally get some sleep, he looked like he needed it. Jack gave you a hug before you guys left, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you close to his chest. You could feel the warmth of his skin, every tense of his muscles, his heartbeat steady under you ear. It felt nice…really nice. It felt safe, and comforting. You would never admit that though, at least not in the moment. You just savored it, worried that this would be the only one you'd ever get based on how tomorrow went. You laid your head against his chest, closing your eyes, the world zeroing in around you so that all that you could hear and feel was Jack. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his cheek leaning against your hair. "Go easy today kid, it's been a rough week." He murmured into your ear before letting you go. Robby watched this interaction between the two of you with a warm smile on his face, one that was reciprocated on Jack's as well. He loved watching the two people he cared most about together. He was happy you were doing a bit better, that you were letting them in a bit more, even if it was only a little.

When you pull away from Jack you feel Robby's hand on the small of your back, large and steady. He's looking at you with a slightly hesitant smile. "He can't be the only one who gets hugs." He teases with a chuckle. You can't help but smile back, letting him pull you into his arms, head against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head. He felt just as safe as Jack, a comfortable embrace that you wanted to commit to memory. Jack smiled just like Robby did, watching the two of you. Robby also gave you a gently kiss on the top of your head before releasing you. "Alright we really need to get back before they send a search party." Robby teases. He and Jack exchange a quick goodbye as well, Robby taking Jack's chin in his thumb and forefinger, angling his chin up before pressing a soft kiss to Jack's lips. Jack murmured a few words of encouragement against his lips before they parted. You couldn't help but watch in awe like you do every time you see them interact as a couple. You loved getting to see this side of them, a side that no one else in the ER got to see, a side you were lucky to be trusted with. The three of you gathered yourselves and found your way back to the ER, Jack leaving for some rest, Robby and you jumping into your shift.

The dayshift went as smooth as it could for you and Robby, both of you dealing with patients as normal, jumping in for last minute traumas as needed. Since things between you and the two men felt less on edge you were able to go about your shift like you weren't avoiding your attending like he was the plague. You and Robby exchanged knowing glances throughout the shift, one's that expressed unspoken words, saying things like 'you okay?' and 'I got you'. Everyone else in the ER felt the release of the tension too. You seemed more like yourself, less withdrawn like you had been. Dana was glad that Jack and Robby were able to start fixing their major fuck up and that her favorite resident was coming back. Samira and Mel were glad to have their friend back in her usual spirits as well. The shift finally ended and you were in the locker room gathering your bag when Robby walked in. When he saw you he had an exhausted smile on his face. "We still on for tomorrow?" He asks, gathering his own things. You look at him, offering him a reassuring smile. "Yeah…just need to get some rest and get some food for my house and then I'll be ready." He nods, a small sigh of relief coming out. He was glad you were still sure you were fine talking with them tomorrow, having been worried you would change your mind. "I'll see you tomorrow Doc" You offer with a warm smile, slipping your backpack onto your shoulders. "I'll see you tomorrow kid, get some rest. You deserve it. Good job out there today." He returns with an almost shy smile as you leave. You were able to go to bed that night with less anxiety than you had over the last week. You were still nervous and guarded but it was better, which was a start.

The next day you get up at a decent time, take a nice long shower, make yourself a nice breakfast and go get some groceries for your apartment. The day felt good. You enjoyed days like this when you were able to start slow and do what you please, when you get to enjoy the simple things. Later in the day, closer to the afternoon after you got all your groceries put away and relaxed a little, catching up on some of the chores you had neglected recently you texted Robby and Jack. You made a group chat for the three of you for convenience. They responded to your message pretty quickly, all of you agreeing to meet at the cafe you discussed in about an hour.

The two men had a slow morning just as you had, waking up tangled together in Robby's sheets. Jack woke up as the sun started shining through the blinds, always cursing Robby for his lack of blackout curtains. He felt Robby's large figure pressed against his back, face nuzzled into the crook of his neck snoring softly, his breath hot against Jack's skin. Jack loved moments like this, even if they were few and far between sometimes, placing his hand over Robby's where it was thrown across his waist, just savoring the moment between them for a little. Jack ended up falling back asleep for a little, waking up to the sound of the shower turning off and Robby coming back into the room a minute later, his dark hair a mess from towel drying it and another towel hanging low on his hips. Jack couldn't help but stare at him with a smile like always, enjoying the view of the man he loved. They went about their morning as usual, making breakfast and drinking coffee together, Robby reading one of his medical journals at the kitchen table, Jack working on a book of Sudoku he had. They enjoyed lazying around the apartment until they received a text from you that you were ready to talk. They looked at each other nervously as they moved to get ready, scared that this conversation could go badly. The two men had talked about everything between the three of you numerous times but were worried you weren't on the same page as them.

An hour later you found yourself walking into the cafe you three agreed upon. You immediately caught sight of the two men at a table in the corner of the store, both standing up once they spot you. They both gave you a hug as you greeted them, getting a peck on the head from both of them. "You look cute." Jack commented after you all said your hellos, Robby nodding in agreement. You couldn't help but feel shy at their comments, feeling blood rushing to your face, the tips of your ears feeling hot as you averted their gaze. The three of you walked up to the counter, Jack's hand on the small of your back as he guided you. They told you to order whatever you want, their treat and you did hesitantly. A few minutes later the three of you were sitting at the table again, eating and drinking in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before one of you finally decided to break the silence, ripping off the band-aid.

"So…talking about everything…" You said awkwardly, avoiding their gaze as you fidgeted with your fingers. Jack lets out a small sigh, nodding his head. "First off…we both wanted to apologize for how we treated you the other week…you didn't deserve that and it wasn't fair to you." Jack says, his voice laced with guilt. "He's right…I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, not just because we both did it that day but in general. That was a dick move and you didn't deserve that nor did you do anything wrong." Robby adds, guilty as well, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous habit. You nod, taking in their words. "Thank you…I accept your apology. I will tell you I'm not fully forgiving you guys yet…it really hurt. I'm sorry." You explain, feeling bad for not immediately forgiving them. Robby places his hand over yours where they were still fidgeting, eyes on you. His gaze was steady on you, his brown eyes swirling with emotion. "Can you look at me?" He asks softly. You move your eyes to meet his slowly, your eyes filled with just as much emotion and worry. "I know I don't want you to forgive me right away and I know Jack doesn't either. We don't deserve that. We did a really shitty thing and you aren't expected to forgive us right now, that doesn't mean we aren't sorry still. We both want to continue to show you with our actions that we're sorry." He explains softly, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles softly. Jack's looking at you with a soft gaze as well, nodding in agreement with Robby. "He's right. I think I'd be pissed at you if you forgave us right now because you deserve more than that." Jack comments, trying to lighten the mood.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his comment with a small smile. "Thank you…both of you. I really appreciate it, I've never had people be nice like that." You explain to them softly. "Well good thing we don't want to be like other people with you." Jack smiles. "Can we also talk to you about something else?" Robby asks hesitantly, his hand still on top of yours. You nod, looking at them in slight confusion, not really knowing what they want to talk about. "We want to talk about us…like the three of us." Robby says.

[fru1ty-d3mon]

I like lighthearted shit so here's something I though of.

Clark is the cool uncle to the bat family. Not actually of course, that would make it weird for ships and stuff. But, he acts like a cool uncle.

So I like to think that during Christmas the batkids all fight over who gets to give their gift to Clark first.

Dick pulls the: I'm the oldest so I should get to!

Jason goes: I'm the most traumatized.

Damian: I'm the blood son.

Tim doesn't give a reason but he's still fighting about it.

The four of them fight amongst themselves. Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara, (who's invited to Bat Christmas) Duke, & Alfred look at them with tired faces.

Duke: Is it always-

Steph & Barbara: Yes.

Cass Nods.

Clark tries to defuse the situation every year, he says that he'll just pick one at random but it still ends up in some sort of fight.

Bruce clears his throat: Stephanie!

He says, Steph perks up, scared almost. Everyone else silences.

Steph: Did I do something?

She asks nervously. Bruce shakes his head. "You go first." He says to her. She looks around nervously at the rest of the family. Dick's jaw is dropped, Jason doesn't really react, Tim is stopping Damian from pulling out his Katana.

Steph walks up to Clark, a rectangular box shakes in her hands. She hands it to him and quickly looks away. He opens it with a smile, trying to help her calm down.

"Ive been practicing my painting.. So when I had visited the farm I took a picture where it looked best.. " She says peeking to see his face, which is one of awe. She finally looks up, at Clark, at everyone else. "Is something wrong?!" She says, slightly freaking out.

The bat-sons (minus Duke & Damian ) look at her appalled. "YOU CAN DRAW?!" Dick shouts, "DID YOU KNOW THIS?!" He yells at Tim, who is just as surprised as Dick. Jason has more of a "I'm proud, but I'm also mega jealous" look on his face.

Damian knew, he's walked in on her struggling with colour theory & shapes before.

Cass smiles, knowing that she helped Steph figure out what she wanted to give Clark.

Duke found out the night before, when he walked into the dining room as she was trying to figure out what box & ribbon to use.

Alfred knows everything, (he helped Stephanie clean up the paint from her room.)

Bruce didn't know this, he hides his shocked expression, but he's just as shocked as most everyone else. Clark stares at the painting, his eyes watering. "Did I do something wrong?! I'm sorry! I can take it back..!" She says sheepishly, trying to grab the painting. "THIS IS THE BEST THING IVE EVER GOTTEN! " He says, ensuring that she cannot take the painting from him. "MA & PA ARE GOING TO LOVE THIS! I LOVE THIS!!" He says very enthusiastically, hugging Stephanie tightly.

She kind of stands there, tearing up slightly. Everyone else watches them, Clark pulls away and looks at the painting again, "it's so perfect." He says happily.

Stephanie smiles, clears her throat and thanks him. She sits back with Cass, Barbara, & Duke, Cass looks at her and silently asks if she's okay, Steph nods.

Christmas continues, but everyone else is worried about giving their gifts to Clark now, knowing that nothing else could beat Stephanie's gift.

Thank you.

[helloalycia]

𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 [𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑] — 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐎

one / two / three / five / six / masterlist / wattpad

summary: winter only gets worse, and you realise just how much you care about Natalie.

warning/s: mentions of death, cannibalism etc etc.

author's note: two more parts left - glad to know some of yous are enjoying it :)

Fix things with Mari. How hard could it be?

Sucking up a breath, I approached Mari and Akilah hesitantly. They noticed me, pausing their conversation as they looked up at me. Akilah gave me a small smile, but Mari looked away awkwardly. Sensing we needed to talk, Akilah stood up and patted my arm before giving us some space.

"I know you hate me, but I'm worried and I just wanna make sure you're okay," I spoke when she didn't, hovering by her as if waiting for her to argue again.

She sighed, pulling off her gloves and tossing them to the side. "I don't hate you."

I tried to hide my surprise. "You don't?"

She shook her head slowly. And when she didn't say anything, I took that as my chance to sit beside her, crossing my legs.

"Then what's happening with us, Mar?" I asked carefully. Still, she said nothing, just picked at her jeans with her forefinger and thumb. So, I continued, "I know I'm not your family, but–"

"I'm sorry for saying that," she interrupted, finally looking up at me with a slight frown. "I didn't mean it." Her hand rested on mine. "I'm really glad you're here, Y/N."

I placed my other hand on hers, squeezing it gently, a sense of relief filling me. "Thanks."

"I don't know what to say," she admitted, looking to the fire. "I just want things to get better. Lottie makes sense to me and you don't need to get it. That's all."

"You're right, I don't get it," I agreed quietly, still struggling to grasp the reasoning behind it all.

"It's because of Lottie that we're okay," she explained like it was obvious.

I winced slightly, unconvinced. "It's not, Mar."

She let go of my hand, exhaling deeply. "Agree to disagree then. But I don't want to lose you because of it."

My expression softened when I saw the sincerity in hers. "Neither do I."

Her shoulders relaxed at this and she held my gaze. "I'm sorry."

I nodded, appreciating her apology. "Thank you. You need to know I only get like this because I care... Like today with Natalie. That wasn't fair of you, Mar."

She straightened up, eyes flashing stubbornly. "What I said was right, Y/N."

I massaged my head as I closed my eyes. "Agree to disagree."

Sighing, she leaned back on her hands. "It didn't matter anyway. We still ended up with nothing."

"We'll figure something out," I promised. "We always do."

She nodded, chewing her lip. I couldn't resist as I pulled her in for a side hug, missing her even though she was here the whole time.

"Idiot," I mumbled fondly, kissing the side of her head.

She didn't push me away, snickering slightly.

When we did part, she glanced at me. "So, are you and Natalie, like, best friends now or something?"

"Huh?"

"Just feels like you're with her a lot, or whispering with her 'n' stuff," she added, side eyeing me suspiciously.

I nodded nonchalantly. "Yeah, well, she's one of the few people around here with her head screwed on straight. We mostly just talk about how insane you are."

She scoffed, shoving me. "Hey!"

I laughed, allowing it. "It's true."

She rolled her eyes, but a smile ghosted her lips as she looked back to the fire. "Well, whatever."

—

We were starving.

It was a fact we couldn't get around anymore. Since Shauna had lost her baby and almost beat Lottie to death, we'd all accepted our fate that we would likely starve to death if we didn't think of something soon. And that was when the deck of cards was brought out.

The fairest way to decide who was next, based on the insane notion that the wilderness would choose who would be sacrificed. I didn't agree with it, but there was no choice. My only concern was Mari – I couldn't lose her.

Van shuffled the deck of cards as we all gathered around in a circle, and Misty was up first. She picked her card, but it wasn't the one – the Queen of Hearts. She showed it to everyone, a relieved grin on her lips.

She took the deck of cards from Van and moved around the circle. Akilah was up next and I was sweating as she hesitantly picked a card from the top. No Queen.

Then it was Van, who showed everyone a nine of diamonds. No Queen.

Then it was Shauna and then Travis and then Taissa and then Melissa, and then I was holding my breath as Mari was up next. My heart stopped in my chest as she glanced in my direction, a cool expression on her face, but her eyes spoke millions. I tried not to let my panic show, giving her a reassuring nod, but my palms hurt from where my nails dug in.

I couldn't lose her.

She took the card, and that split second of her looking at it had me dizzy. But finally, she breathed out slowly and flipped it around, showing everyone. I let out a breath, relieved, and watched as her shaky hand returned the card to Misty.

I supposed I'd been so focused on worrying about Mari's safety that I hadn't even considered Natalie's. But as soon as Misty moved to her next, my chest tightened.

She reached for the card and looked down. Before she showed everyone, my stomach dropped. Her expression alone gave it away, and when she flipped the card around, it was written as clear as day – the Queen of Hearts.

Gasps travelled around the room as she lowered the card, hands trembling. I couldn't believe it. There was no way we were actually all going to go through with it, right?

She stepped forward into the centre, as did Shauna, the two of them facing one another. I scanned the room, trying to see if everybody was continuing as planned. There was a mixture of responses – some relieved, some surprised.

"Turn around," Shauna said shakily.

Trembling, Natalie turned around, and Shauna began to put on Jackie's necklace around her neck.

"Maybe this isn't the way," I spoke up, looking around, needing to do something. There was no way we were going to kill her!

"We all agreed, Y/N," Taissa said quietly, regretfully, but I fixed her with a glare.

"She literally hunts our food!" I reminded them all. "She's the reason we're alive! It's– it's Nat!"

The silence was deafening. Nobody would meet my gaze. I looked to Travis who seemed uncomfortable, pleading with my eyes for him to take my side. He hunted with her every day, he cared about her, I knew he did. Why wasn't he saying anything?

Shauna wouldn't look at me. And Natalie was staring ahead, eyes wide, still shellshocked.

Without another word, Shauna lifted her knife and pressed it to Natalie's neck, and my brain was working overtime trying to think of a way to stop this.

"Wait," Natalie suddenly said, and Shauna paused. The blonde turned around and met Shauna's stare head-on. "You're gonna have to look me in the eye."

Shauna sniffed quietly, eyes watering as she lifted the blade to Natalie's throat once more, but she couldn't do it. Natalie stood there, defiant, waiting, but Shauna didn't move.

There was no way we were resorting to this. I'd rather have died of starvation than intentionally kill one of my teammates.

And I couldn't lose Natalie.

My eyes fell upon Travis' once more, but this time he seemed determined, nodding at me, and I knew I had an opening.

Without thinking twice, I tackled Shauna to the floor, her knife clattering to the floorboards. I felt hands grab me from behind, trying to pull me off her, but Travis was quick to yank them off me. Unfortunately, Taissa and Van both shouldered me roughly into the wall, but I had a second – enough time for me to find Natalie's gaze and yell "Run!".

She didn't waste the opportunity. She ran past the others and out the front door of the cabin. Misty shouted out, followed by the others, before they ran after her hurriedly. I wanted to follow, to slow them down somehow, but a blade was held to my throat by Gen and Melissa whilst some others held a hatchet to Travis' on the other side of the room.

We were stuck.

—

It felt like forever when they returned – I didn't know what to expect, scared shitless that they'd somehow found Natalie and she was gone. Had we bought her enough time or was she doomed?

But they did return, and we all ran outside to see who was back.

Relief spread through me as Natalie trudged through the snow, and both Travis and I were by her side, but she didn't even look up.

"It– it happened so fast, it– the wilderness chose," she got out shakily, guiltily, and Travis and I didn't understand what she was talking about until the others followed behind her. It was what they were carrying that made my eyes widen.

It was Javi, dead, tied to a stick that the girls were carrying between them.

"No, no, no!" Travis shouted, tears flooding his eyes.

He rushed to his brother's dead body as they set him down, and I couldn't believe my eyes. Javi was gone.

I looked to Natalie, confused and questioning, but she wouldn't look my way as she went to the cabin. What had happened?

Mari approached me, having gone out with the others to chase Natalie – but she didn't look satisfied, just as distraught as the others. I should've been angry at her, but she only did what the others had done. And the look on her face, having probably witnessed Javi's death, made my heart hurt.

"The wilderness chose," she stated quietly, firmly, like she believed it, which I supposed she did.

Whether that was true or not, I was conflicted. Part of me was heartbroken to have lost Javi, especially after we'd just got him back. But the bigger part of me was relieved to know the 'wilderness' hadn't chosen Mari or Natalie after all.

I sucked up a breath before pulling Mari in for a hug, glad she was still alive after everything. She relaxed beneath me, wrapping her arms around my waist with equal relief.

Not long after that, the cabin was silent with grief. Shauna was butchering Javi's body outside (which I tried very much not to think about, despite my growling stomach), whilst the others waited. I sat with Mari as she explained what had happened out there.

Javi was trying to help Natalie escape when they were all caught on the frozen lake and Javi had fallen in. It was an unfortunate accident, but they'd all let it happen. Mari, surprisingly, didn't shy away from that fact – that they could have saved him, but they didn't. Deep down, they'd all known it was their chance at survival, so they'd watched him die.

And it explained Natalie's distance, the guilt she wore in her expression as she sat on the porch alone.

I stood up, excusing myself from Mari, before going outside to check on Natalie. The wood creaked under my feet as I hesitated, seeing her sat there, arms wrapped around her knees. She didn't look up, so I risked taking a seat beside her, leaving a gap, leaving her chance to push me away. But she didn't.

"Mari told me what happened," I murmured, glancing sideways at her. Her jaw was clenched as she stared at the tree line ahead. "It wasn't your fault, Nat."

Her breath caught – a scoff – in disagreement. "It is." Red eyes met mine, the aftermath of tears she'd kept hidden. "I let him die."

I frowned, shaking my head. "It was awful. An accident. You didn't do it on purpose."

"But I could've helped him," she snapped quietly, blue eyes dark with frustration. "I didn't. He– he tried to help me and I could've saved him. But I didn't. I let him drown."

I swallowed thickly, turning to face her. "Natalie, if you'd saved him, they would've–"

"Killed me?" she finished, quirking a brow, lips trembling slightly. "It wasn't my choice to make. But I did it anyway."

I knitted my brows together as I looked down, guilt eating away at me. She was right, but the selfish part of me was glad it wasn't her who'd gone.

"I'm sorry," I said, because it was all I could say without sounding like the worst person on the planet.

She tensed her jaw, wiping her cheek as she looked ahead again. It broke my heart.

"I didn't want him to die, didn't want anyone to," I continued quietly, "but I– you–" I inhaled sharply. "You're safe. You're here. That..."

I couldn't finish, unable to say it aloud, not so soon. She meant a lot to me. Both her and Mari were my only concerns out here. I loved the other girls, but not like them. And losing Javi was awful, but Natalie was alive.

"You shouldn't care this much," she muttered, as if realising something.

My heart ached, conflicted. "I know."

She was watching me, eyes wet, and I resisted the urge to hug her, to feel that she was okay.

"It's not your fault," I repeated with a final look, before standing up to give her some space.

And maybe give myself some too.

—

Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, they did.

Shortly after losing Javi, Lottie was well enough to actually leave the attic and shared that she never actually wanted to be in charge and couldn't 'hear' the wilderness anymore. That's when she passed on the responsibility to Natalie, since she was the one who saved us from starvation. I wasn't sure Natalie was a believer, but if it meant we were actually being led by a sane person, I had no complaints.

We barely got a day with her as our new leader when we all woke up in the middle of the night, realising the cabin was on fire. It happened so fast – the smoke and flames swallowing up the only place we could call home.

Fear set in, the thought of having to sleep outside in the cold with only the belongings we could grab with us terrifying me. But Natalie was quick to try and reassure us all, taking on her role as a leader as easily as riding a bike.

She sent Taissa and a few others to a clearing she'd come across on her hunts – our new place to rebuild. They took what belongings we'd saved with them, focusing on clearing out the new space and tidying it up a little.

Meanwhile, myself, Natalie and the rest of us were to inspect the charred remains of the cabin to see what we could salvage. It was late morning when the fire had gone out and the smoke cleared.

"Grab whatever is useful, whatever hasn't been damaged too badly," Natalie told us all before we went in. "And be careful. It's unstable."

We all nodded before venturing onto the broken porch and letting ourselves in the ruined space. I had a makeshift bandana covering my mouth, but the smoke seeped through, clogging my throat and stinging my eyes. Natalie was by my side in a moment, blue eyes finding mine above her bandana.

"D'you really think Coach did this?" I asked her, looking around at the damage.

She sighed, and even though I couldn't see her mouth, I knew she was clenching her jaw. "I don't know who else it could've been."

Natalie was arguably the closest with Coach Scott out of all of us, so him up and leaving, nowhere to be found after the fire, had hit her hard. Everybody was already theorising he started it, with them believing he thought he was better than us and teaching us a lesson. I wasn't sure what to believe, but it wasn't so far fetched either.

"Just... grab what you can," Natalie added, and I took that as her way of telling me to drop it.

I nodded, going to look around. Most of the cabin and its belongings were broken, burnt or covered in soot. Where the kitchen used to be was now a mess. I managed to find a few pieces of crockery, deep in the cabinets – or what was left of them. Most of the metal had changed shape, but it wasn't totally useless.

After grabbing some of them, I moved to where the window used to be, now a gaping hole of fallen logs. It was amazing how much I was already missing the place I'd once despised. How would we recover? How would we rebuild?

"Y/N, watch out!" Natalie's voice shouted from behind me suddenly, pulling me from my daze.

I turned around, only to be shoved back against the wall as part of the ceiling crashed down in the space where I was stood.

My heart was thumping in my chest as I coughed amidst the lifted ash in the air.

"Are you okay?" Natalie's muffled voice asked with worry, before she tugged down her bandana to look me over properly.

It was then that I realised how close she was to me, close enough to exchange breaths as her eyes flickered over my expression. Were her eyes always that blue? I couldn't remember, but my brain was definitely short circuiting at the sight.

"I– yes," I breathed out, panic subsiding. "Yeah. All good." 

She sighed with relief, hands squeezing my shoulder, as if for her own reassurance, before she stepped back slightly. "Fuck, Y/N. I told you to be careful."

Before I could respond, Melissa poked her head into the kitchen area, eyes widening as she took in the damage of the sunken ceiling. Then she looked to us. "Everyone good here?"

"Just about," Natalie answered, before covering her mouth with her bandana again.

Melissa saluted us before going back to searching. I swallowed thickly, glancing at the damage once more.

"Thanks," I said to Natalie, relieved.

She rolled her eyes, then tugged me out of the kitchen by the wrist. "There's not much here. Not worth dying over. C'mon."

I nodded, trying to clear my head. Now was definitely not the time to be checking out Natalie.

—

Rebuilding after everything was a work in process. We had Taissa's knowledge with her being the smartest of us all, some old books we found in the debris of the cabin, and our own common sense, but it was a learning curve.

I was sharing a hut with Mari and Akilah and the roof had slightly caved in on us last night, to our disappointment. So, the following morning, we got to work on mending it. Or should I say Akilah and I got to work whilst Mari was doing the bare minimum.

"You're gonna take your own eye out with that, idiot," I said to her as she swung around a long piece of wood we needed.

"I'm boosting morale," she said like it was obvious, despite the fact she was using the wood as a sword.

"You're boosting the risk of head trauma," Akilah countered with an eye roll.

I snorted with amusement, holding the pieces of wood before me in place as Akilah tightened the rope. Our fingers were numb from the cold and pine needles were stuck in my gloves, but the thought of it coming together was motivation in itself.

"This is gonna collapse as soon as someone breathes on it," Mari said, nodding to the roof of the hut.

"You're not the one who got hit in the face by it last night," Akilah mumbled, tying it off.

"Quit being annoying and help," I told Mari disapprovingly, though a smile ghosted my lips.

She scoffed before dropping the stick and taking a seat on the fabric we'd laid out before our hut, kind of like a welcome mat. Akilah and I exchanged glances before looking to her.

"What are you doing?" Akilah asked.

"Inspecting it, duh," Mari said in a knowing voice.

I rolled my eyes before grabbing some snow and throwing it at her. She squealed and hid her face.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, before attempting to do the same back.

I hid my face too, trying not to laugh. "Stop sitting on your ass!"

"I'm acting as project manager actually!" she defended herself.

I facepalmed as Akilah let out a quiet chuckle, clearly giving in to Mari's delusion. Before I could scold the idiot for being so passive, I heard footsteps crunching in the snow behind me and turned around to see Natalie approaching.

"Sorry to interrupt," she started, glancing between us all.

"You're not." I smiled, before motioning to our hut. "Come to see our prime real estate?"

Mari snorted. "And you say I'm an idiot."

Natalie looked between Mari and I as I rolled my eyes, lips twitching into a small smile. "Prime, huh?"

"Well, it kinda collapsed, but we've repaired it, so I'd say it's prime," I said with pleased grin.

She hummed, half amused, looking at it once more. "I need a hand collecting some wood. Gen and I are looking at some traps we can make. Anyone free?"

"Sure, I don't mind," I offered, stepping forward.

Mari groaned. "Don't leave me with her." She motioned to Akilah dramatically. "She's gonna give me work to do."

Akilah kicked her in the side gently, making me laugh.

"That's because you need to do work," I told her with a playful glare. "Stop messing around, Mar."

Mari waved a dismissive hand, making me roll my eyes before dusting the pine needles from my jacket. I joined Natalie's side, noticing the way she glanced between Mari and I before looking away quickly, like she was stuck in thought.

"You alright?" I asked as we walked side by side into the trees.

She nodded, eyes fixed ahead. "Yeah, just wanna get this new place sorted out already."

"We'll get it done," I reassured her, nudging her in the arm slightly.

She pressed her lips into a tight smile, saying nothing. It wasn't anything weird, but it wasn't quite normal either. I put it down to her fatigue – we were all struggling with sleep as of late, still on edge from the very obvious arson attack we'd faced.

I mean, I thought it was that, but she was acting off for the rest of the day as far as I could tell.

When we returned from collecting some wood for her traps, the two of us joined some of the others by the fire to warm up. Naturally, we took a seat by Akilah and Mari, who were chatting as Mari cooked some soup for everyone's dinner.

As usual, Mari was rambling about everything and nothing, which I was very much used to. She was an acquired taste as a person, I knew that much, but I still loved her. Still, I could see how she may come across as too much, like right now when she didn't seem to have an off button.

I looked over at Natalie next to the fire, noticing the nonchalant glances she'd send in Mari's direction. Not long, not obvious, but watching. If Mari ever looked back by chance, Natalie would look back to the fire or the snow or something else that looked casual. I furrowed my brows slightly, curious.

"You and Mari okay?" I asked her quietly, leaning in so only she could hear.

She blinked, glancing at me. "Huh? Yeah. Why?"

I quirked a brow. "You just keep... staring."

She shrugged, looking back to the fire. "She's not exactly quiet."

I exhaled sharply, smiling. "True. But still. She didn't say anything to you, did she?"

"You sound like a teacher," she deflected, offering a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Wow." I laughed. "I'm gonna pretend not to be offended right now."

She scoffed slightly, giving me a look. "You know what I mean. I'm good. Just warming up."

"Hmm." I looked her over, watching as she focused on the fire once more.

Maybe I was reading into it. Maybe she really was just tired. Maybe.

[motzglorp]

So, I was just buying some cat gras and couldn't help but think about a cat!hybrid reader at the pet shop, where someone accidentally spilled cat mint or something like that.

It's stupid. You are a grown ass adult. You have brains and thoughts and everything. You can absolutely handle this. Just ignore it. Just grab what you need and go.

But you feel your ears and tail twitch already. You are wearing a mask (because you don't want to catch a virus, but also to protect your sensitive nose from all the smells in the shop) but one whiff of it was enough to make you feel dizzy. And it makes you sneeze and when you inhale fresh air, you know, you need help. At least you have enough brains left to send the message and your location and then you give in. Dropping to the floor, nose digging in the corner where some unfortunate person had spilled the good stuff: cat nip.

When you come to your senses, you are home, at the tower, on the sofa. You don't remember how you got here, but you feel so good. Warm, relaxed, a bit drowsy, but in a good way. You mind calm, the aftermath of your involuntary high.

You sigh and stretch a little bit, snuggling closer to the warmth, as you try to remember what happened. You were at the pet shop, looking for a new toy for Alpine (and maybe for yourself, who would know) and then there was the catnip and then everything gets mushy. You know that you probably had been rolling on the floor, wide eyed and completely out of your mind. Hopefully nobody took a video. And hopefully you didn't cause any damage. You remember warm hands and a presence that meant safety and home and then a car ride maybe? You did send an emergency message, didn't you? You should check your phone, but it's so comfortable on the couch, smells so good, like Alpine and Bucky...

A low rumble erupts from beneath you and you blink in horrified confusion.

"Good morning, kitten.. sleep well?"

Bucky. You were sleeping on top of Bucky. On the couch. High on catnip. Shit. But Bucky sounds... Not mad. Amused?

You dare to look up, or rather down and see an amused smile on Bucky's face.

"Oh, how long did I... Was I... Oh god, I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened. I mean, I know what happened, I just don't... Sorry.." You feel the heat in your face, down your neck and it's one of those rare moments you wish you had fur. And you just now realise the way you cling to Bucky, wrapped in a blanket but also wrapped in his arms. Both. The warm flesh hand resting on the small of your back, the perfect spot to feel the heat.. the metal hand between your shoulder blades, but you feel a slight tingle on your head, as if someone had given you scratches. Did Bucky? Also can you die from embarrassment?

"No worries, doll. Nothing happened, no damage done. Got your text and found you, before you could rip up a new bag." Oh wow, you must have been really out of it.

"How are you feeling? Still high? Your pupils are still a bit dilated. You slept the whole afternoon."

His hand wanders from your neck to your face, cups your cheek and you know you will regret the way you give in to your instincts and nuzzle into the touch. But it feels so good and you have not allowed yourself to live out your cat side for a while. New to the team, proving to be more than a hybrid experiment and all that.

Another rumble from Bucky makes you blink, you almost drifted again. "Still on it, I see." He ticks you a bit closer. "Come on, back to sleep, kitten. Don't worry, I got you."

Maybe it's the lingering effect of the catnip, maybe you are just greedy, but whatever the reason you will tell yourself later, you don't want to get up yet and Bucky is warm and smells like home and so you rest your head on his broad chest again. And if you purr, when Bucky starts petting your head again, then so be it.

Yelena finds the both of you later and takes pictures for blackmail and also because you look so cute, face buried in Bucky's neck, his arms protectively wrapped around you.

She also saved all the videos people had taken at the store, before they all mysteriously got deleted from all devices and the internet.

-----

Btw. The emergency text was something like "Help catnip, need extension" and your location. Lucky that Bucky was close and understands autocorrect.

[rraaaannnn]

The childhood crew from their tiny village is about to graduate, and everyone’s rooting for Kim Minji — the village brainiac who's been the top student forever and dreams of med school in the big city. Meanwhile, her childhood bestie, Yn, spent more time daydreaming in the fields than hitting the books... and now her worries are starting to catch up!

fem reader!

.•.•.•. I

The morning air was cool with the promise of a gentle sun, the kind that warmed rooftops without making the earth sweat. Dew still clung to the stone path as Kim Minji stepped out of her gate, her school bag slung over one shoulder and her shoes clicking softly against the village road.It was the first Monday of the final term. Her last spring as a high school student. She didn’t slow down.

Around her, the village was already alive in the way it always was: quietly, with patterns. Mrs. Eun watering her flower pots, humming the same trot song. A rooster still crowing like it hadn’t gotten the memo about the sunrise. Two little kids chasing each other around a pile of rice sacks.

Minji bowed her head lightly to them all, greeting where needed, smiling only when it felt natural. She liked mornings like this—where everything had a place and nothing was surprising.

"Minji-yah!" a familiar voice called from across the narrow road. Hanni, dressed in the same navy uniform, skipped over with a sleepy grin. Right behind her were Jungwan, neat as always, and Gyuvin, still chewing on the toast he clearly hadn't finished at home.

"Did you solve the calc worksheet?" Jungwan asked the second he caught up. "I only did the ones I felt emotionally ready for," Hanni replied before Minji could open her mouth.

Minji rolled her eyes with a small smile. "We have a quiz first period."

"And?" Gyuvin grinned, talking around his food. "Isn't it your job to carry us, Miss Top of the Village?"

“I'm retiring,” Minji said dryly. “Effective immediately.”

They laughed, the sound bouncing off the low stone walls of the village like marbles rolling downhill.And then, as if on cue, a loud thud came from somewhere behind them.Minji didn’t need to turn around. She already knew.

Lee YN came stumbling out from Jihan’s front gate, arms flailing slightly as she ducked what looked suspiciously like a slipper flying toward her head.

“GET OUT! Go ruin someone else’s morning!” Jihan’s voice rang out like a breaking news alert.

“You’re just mad I beat you in rock-paper-scissors at breakfast,” YN called back, completely unfazed, yawning like she had just come back from a nap.

Minji raised an eyebrow as she heard Jihan mutter something unholy and slam her door. Hanni stifled a laugh.

“Why was she even in Jihan’s house?” Gyuvin asked.

“She lives there now?” Jungwan offered, more confused than curious.

But YN caught up to them like nothing happened, stretching her arms out like she owned the road.

“Moooorning,” she drawled, voice raspy from sleep.“Isn’t it too early to be this chaotic?” Hanni said, not bothering to hide her amusement.

YN grinned. “It’s never too early to make your friends hate you.”

She passed them casually and walked two steps ahead, hands in her pockets, one headphone loosely dangling from her left ear. Her yawns came in intervals, her hair slightly damp like she hadn’t bothered drying it properly.

Minji watched her quietly for a moment.

There was no good reason to look.

She just... always ended up doing it.

At school, the day rolled on with a slow, familiar rhythm.Gyuvin got yelled at for trying to trade side dishes during lunch.Jungwan wiped the chalkboard like he was paid to do it.Hanni kept borrowing pens and “forgetting” to return them.YN nearly got caught sleeping in ethics class—again

And Minji...Minji just moved between it all.Predictable. Focused. Composed.

Except when YN made faces behind the teacher’s back. Or when she got called to the front and stumbled into a dramatic fake bow that made even the teacher sigh. Minji found herself biting back smiles more times than she liked to admit.No one noticed.And if they did, they never said anything.

The sun was dipping low behind the distant hills, painting the sky with shades of warm peach and sleepy lavender. Shadows stretched along the village road as the group made their way back from school, a little slower now that the day’s weight sat on their shoulders.

Footsteps scuffed the dusty road. Laughter rose in occasional bursts. Someone kicked a rock. Gyuvin and Hanni walked ahead, arguing about who should host the next study session, with Jungwan tagging along and offering unwanted votes.

Minji walked beside YN.

Just a few steps behind the others. Close enough to hear each other’s breathing. Not close enough to seem like they meant it.

YN, arms folded behind her head, was rambling about something—probably her heroic nap in ethics class. Her bag hung lopsidedly from one shoulder, her tie barely holding on.

Minji glanced at her once. Twice.

And then, casually: “You drooled during class again.”

YN’s feet paused for half a second. “I did not.”

“You did. I saw it.”

“You were watching me?”

Minji looked ahead, voice calm. “You snore too. Like an old man.”

A beat of silence.

YN turned to her with a slight tilt of her head, eyes narrowing like a cat catching wind of a challenge. “Oh really? Maybe I learned from your dad during all those dinner parties.”

Minji’s jaw twitched. “Low blow.”

YN grinned wide, clearly enjoying herself. “You started it.”There it was. That stupid grin Minji claimed to find annoying. The one that made her blood simmer in a way it had no business doing.

She exhaled through her nose and said, flatly, “Your socks don’t match.”

YN looked down at her feet. “Yes, they do—”

“Not if one’s inside-out.”

“Damn it.”

Minji smiled to herself. Quiet. Victorious. But YN caught it.“Did you just smile?” she asked, stopping in the middle of the road. “Was that a real smile, Kim Minji? Are we witnessing a historic event?”

Minji didn’t stop walking.“If I admit it, you’ll make it weird.”

“Oh, I’m already making it weird,” YN declared, jogging to catch up, dramatically placing a hand on her chest. “I feel seen. Chosen. Bullied by a queen.”

Minji snorted before she could stop herself.

A soft sound. Almost nothing.

And yet—YN noticed.She always noticed.

They stood there for a moment. Not quite saying goodbye. Not quite looking away.

And then YN lifted a hand lazily in the air. “Later, smartass.”

Minji watched her go. Watched the bounce in her step, the uneven socks, the loose collar.

Watched her disappear around the corner like she always did.

And only then did she finally let herself smile again.

.•.•.•.

The table was already half full when YN slipped inside, the wooden door creaking louder than it needed to. Her shoulders slouched, tie now completely undone, and her shirt had somehow gained a mysterious new stain since lunch.

Her mother didn’t look up from the stew she was ladling into bowls.

“You’re late,” she said.

YN slid into her seat and reached for the rice without answering.

A moment passed. Then the words started—like clockwork.

“You know, the others already came by. Minji, Hanni, even Gyuvin dropped off those worksheets for group study. But of course, you—”

“I was walking home,” YN muttered around a mouthful of rice.

“With who? The birds?” her mother snapped, finally turning to look at her. “Do you ever sit with them? Study like a normal student?”

YN shrugged. “Why would I? They all do the work anyway.”

“That’s the problem, Lee YN. You expect everything to be handed to you. You think just because you’re funny with the grandmas and can lift a bag of potatoes, that’s enough for life?”

The spoon clattered slightly as her mother slammed it back into the pot.

“Look at your brother. He’s already on the Dean’s List. He doesn’t waste time wandering around like a stray cat.”

YN stayed quiet. Her jaw moved slowly as she chewed. She didn’t even blink.

“And Minji—God bless that girl—she still offers to help you, even after all your nonsense. You know what she said last time? That maybe if you just focused for one term, you might—”

YN snorted.

Her mother froze.

“Let me guess,” YN said lazily, stirring her rice. “Maybe if I try really, really hard, I can become a better version of myself... Like Minji.”

“You think this is funny?”

“No,” YN said. “It’s recycled.”

The silence after that was sharp.

Her mother sighed—long, dramatic, tired. The sound of a woman who believed she had tried everything.

"You’re wasting your time," she muttered, almost to herself now. "Wasting your potential. You could be—"

"Someone else?" YN interrupted, leaning back in her chair.

Another pause.

Then, softer, with that kind of venom that hides in sweetness: "I just want what’s best for you. Not everyone will tolerate your… behavior the way this village does."

YN stood up, bowl half-finished. She didn’t slam it. Didn’t yell. Just quietly placed her spoon down.

“I’ll go help Mr. Kim in the back with the crates,��� she said, already stepping toward the door.

“You haven’t finished eating,” her mother said.

“I’m full.”

She slipped on her shoes, the same beat-up pair she wore everywhere, and stepped out onto the porch.The evening air wrapped around her like a sigh. Warm. Familiar. Free.Out here, no one asked her to be brilliant. Out here, she could just... breathe.

.•.•.•.

The last of the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting sleepy gold patches along the narrow dirt road as YN trudged her way up to the large, slightly tilted gate of the Kim house.

As expected, the front door was wide open.

It always was.No matter the time of day or season, the Kim family door never truly shut — not in the symbolic way. They were the kind of people who left a pot of soup simmering with extra servings just in case, who never forgot a birthday even if you did, who made you feel like you lived there… even if you technically didn’t.

YN kicked off her shoes at the entrance. She didn’t even need to glance down to know who was already inside — the pile of sneakers, mismatched socks, and a single sandal (probably Gyuvin’s doing) gave it away instantly: Hanni.Jungwan.Gyuvin.Jihan.

Study group night. Again.

She let out a breath through her nose and muttered, “Of course.”

Dragging her feet across the wooden floor, she stepped inside like she owned the place — or rather, like someone who’d been there often enough not to need permission. The living room was lively, books and worksheets scattered across the floor in a controlled mess. Beyond the sliding doors, the backyard opened wide to the stretch of Mr. Kim’s small farm, where the sun cast long shadows of tomato stakes and drying laundry.

“YNnie~!” Mrs. Kim’s warm voice floated from the kitchen as if on cue. “You’re just in time. Want some juice, sweetheart?”

Before YN could answer, the woman was already walking into the room with a tray of glasses.

“Wow, still studying?” YN said lazily, standing in the doorway like she was observing a zoo. She scratched her head, her backpack slung over only one shoulder. “You guys ever take a break?”

“They’re focused,” Mrs. Kim said proudly, placing the tray down in the middle of the group.

“I’m surviving,” Gyuvin mumbled, forehead already pressed to his textbook.

“We were,” Minji muttered as she reached for her glass of juice—only for YN to snatch it casually from her hand mid-motion.

“Hey—!”

Too late. YN had already taken two big gulps before sighing exaggeratedly, handing it back to her with a satisfied smirk. “Tastes better when it’s yours.”

“You’re such a—” Minji hissed, wiping the rim of the glass dramatically with her sleeve.

“Language, Minji,” Mrs. Kim warned with a smile, already used to them. She turned to YN again. “Your mom called earlier. Said you might come help your uncle tonight, but I told her Mr. Kim’s back needs more help than the fields.”

“Lucky me,” YN grinned, tossing her bag onto a stray pillow and stretching.

“She’s not staying to study?” Jihan asked from the corner of the room, pen between her lips.

“Nope,” Minji said quickly, flipping her textbook.

“She should,” Hanni added without looking up, fingers flying across her calculator. “She needs it more than all of us.”

“Rude,” YN muttered, already walking toward the backyard door.

“Get back here, Lee YN!” Jihan yelled after her, voice cracking with half-laughter, half-genuine concern. “We have a quiz this week!”

“Tell me how it goes~” YN called back in a sing-song voice as she slid the back door open.

Mrs. Kim shook her head fondly, following behind her with a basket of cloth towels. “Try not to get mud all over your shoes again.”

“I make no promises,” YN said, already stepping down onto the dirt path that led to the crops.

The air outside was thick with that early evening quiet—the kind that wasn't really quiet at all. Cicadas hummed from the trees, the breeze rustled the tall grass, and a dog barked lazily somewhere down the road. Mr. Kim was bent over near the squash plants, his broad back slightly hunched as he worked his way along the row.

“Evening, boss,” YN called out, hopping over a puddle. “Reporting for duty.”

Mr. Kim straightened slowly, wiping sweat from his brow with a cloth. He turned with a grin.

“Well, look who finally escaped the study cult.”

“Barely,” she said, tugging her sleeves up.

He handed her a pair of gloves and nodded toward a row of overturned crates. “Think you can carry those to the shed?”

“Please,” she said, already hoisting the first one up. “If they gave degrees for carrying stuff, I’d be your valedictorian.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes—comfortable, familiar. He didn’t talk much when he was farming, but he always made room for her to talk if she wanted to. Tonight, she didn’t say anything at first.

Then, after setting down a crate, she sighed and wiped her forehead with her forearm.

“She took my juice.”

Mr. Kim looked at her.

“Minji,” YN clarified. “Technically I took it. But still. She didn’t really fight me for it. Just called me names under her breath.”

Mr. Kim chuckled.

“Your daughter’s so dramatic,” she added.

“You’re both dramatic,” he said simply.

YN smiled, then kicked gently at the dirt.

“Why does she keep being nice to me?” she asked, a little quieter. “Even after all the times I’ve annoyed the hell out of her?”

Mr. Kim didn’t answer right away.

“She doesn’t hate it as much as she pretends,” he said finally, crouching beside a small lettuce bed. “And maybe… it reminds her that she’s not just Minji the top student. She gets to be a kid around you.”

YN looked toward the house.

The sliding door was still slightly open. She could see Minji through the glass, half turned toward the others, scribbling in her notebook, her brows drawn tight in concentration.

But even from this distance, she caught it—that moment Minji looked up, scanned the backyard once, and then returned to her work.

As if checking that YN was still there.YN turned back toward the crates, hiding the small grin that tugged at her lips.

Time slipped past like the golden sun melting behind the trees.By now, the farm had gone quieter, the air thick with evening warmth and the smell of damp earth. YN was crouched beside the last vegetable row, helping Mr. Kim stack some pulled weeds and broken branches when she felt a sharp sting across her index finger.She winced, glancing down at the shallow cut that now trickled with a thin, bright line of red.“Ah—” she muttered, sucking in a breath and quickly hiding her hand behind her back. “It’s fine. Totally fine.”

Mr. Kim looked over. “You alright?”

“Yup. Great. A mosquito bite. Huge one,” she lied, standing too fast. “Probably radioactive.”

He raised a brow, clearly unconvinced, but said nothing. She waved off the concern and kept going, refusing to stop.It wasn’t that bad. Just a scratch.But her hand throbbed slightly as she carried the crates back toward the house, dirt clinging to her palms and the sting quietly building under her skin.

Inside, the living room was humming with low voices and rustling pages. The study group was in the final stretch now — half-asleep, half-burnt out.“Operation: Pass Final Exams is almost complete,” Gyuvin announced dramatically as she entered, tossing his pen onto the floor like a fallen soldier.“Please,” Jungwan groaned. “You still haven’t done the history part.”

“I’ve done the emotional labor of being here. That counts.”

“Hey nerds,” YN called as she flopped down near the doorframe, still dusty from outside. “Are we smarter yet, or just collectively hallucinating?”

“Shut up,” Hanni and Jihan said at the same time.“You’re covered in dirt,” Minji mumbled from the middle of the room, still scribbling into her workbook.

“Your dad tried to plant me in the lettuce bed,” YN said, grinning. “I think it’s because I’m so grounded.”

Gyuvin gagged. “Get out.”

“Seriously though,” Minji said without looking up, “you’re bleeding.”

YN blinked.“What?”

Minji snapped her head up this time, narrowing her eyes as she spotted the cut along YN’s right hand. “Are you kidding me?”

“It’s nothing,” YN waved it off. “Just a farming kiss.”

“Shut up,” Minji muttered under her breath — sharper this time, but her voice stayed low, so her mom wouldn’t overhear. She tossed her notebook aside and stood. “Come here.”

“What, why—?”

But Minji had already crossed the room and taken YN’s wrist gently but firmly, inspecting the wound.“You’re such a walking hazard,” she mumbled, tugging her toward the kitchen before YN could protest.“Minji,” YN said, trying to tug back with a slight pout. “I don’t need—”

“I don’t care.”

The kitchen was quieter, lit by the soft yellow glow from the stove light. Minji pushed YN down onto one of the wooden stools and started opening drawers with expert familiarity.

“Sit still,” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” YN said, trying to hide the way her stomach twisted slightly — not from the cut, but from the way Minji’s fingers had lingered around her wrist.Minji found the antiseptic, some cotton, and finally, a small plastic box that she clicked open slowly.

YN raised a brow.“…Is that Spider-Man?”

Minji didn’t look at her.“They were the only cute ones,” she said flatly, cleaning the wound carefully. “The others were boring.”

“Right, because bleeding out is less dramatic if it comes with superhero theming.”

Minji ignored her again, though her ears were slightly pink now.She peeled one of the stickers from the strip — a bright red Spider-Man with an oversized head — and pressed it gently onto the cleaned cut. Her movements were careful, almost annoyingly so. Then, finally, she glanced up at YN through her lashes.

“…I bought them for you.”

YN blinked.“What?”

Minji clicked the box shut, turning her back slightly. “You always get scratched up or fall or ruin something. So I figured… better to keep these around.”

YN stared at her, lips parted.

“You—” she started, but the words stalled halfway out.Her hand tingled, not from the wound, but from the care. From the memory that started to surface.

.•.•.•. Flashback

A younger Minji — maybe seven — was kneeling on the dirt road near the swing set behind the old school. YN had tripped during tag (again), scraped both knees, and tried to laugh it off through watery eyes.“You’re so dumb,” child Minji said, pulling a crumpled napkin from her backpack to dab at the blood.

“You’re mean,” YN sniffled.

“You’re bleeding.”

“So what?”

Minji didn’t answer. She just pulled out a tiny square bandage — the last one she had — and stuck it carefully onto YN’s knee.

“It’s got Hello Kitty,” YN whispered.

“It’s my last one,” Minji said, shrugging. “Don’t waste it.”

.•.•.•. Back to Present

YN stared down at her finger.Spider-Man stared back at her with ridiculous cartoon eyes.She chuckled under her breath, then looked up again.“…You’ve always done this,” she said quietly. “Taken care of me when I’m dumb.”

“You make it hard not to,” Minji said, voice soft. She didn’t look away this time.For a brief second, the kitchen fell into stillness.There was a weight in the air — not heavy, not dramatic, but present. Like something old, familiar, and unnamed had followed them into that quiet room, standing beside the stove with warm hands in its pockets.YN looked at Minji again — really looked — and something in her chest flickered.

She smiled, just a little.

“Well,” she said, holding up her finger, “I better not waste this one either.”

Minji scoffed and rolled her eyes, but there was a tug at the corner of her lips.“You better not.”

.•.•.•.

The sun had barely climbed above the rooftops, but the village was already alive.A soft breeze carried the smell of soil and old bricks, the far-off chatter of neighbors, and the occasional thud of a soccer ball hitting a wall. Students shuffled from one house to another, arms full of books, brains already heavy with review sheets. It was that time of year again—finals inching closer like a slow but deadly tide.Minji’s house had practically become the study center of the entire village. Her parents welcomed it, of course. Her mom made trays of warm bread and plum juice for the kids. Her dad sometimes passed by with dirt-streaked hands to offer brain-boosting jokes—“Photosynthesis is just plant magic, remember that!”

Inside the living room, Minji, Hanni, Jungwan, Gyuvin, and Jihan sat in a tight circle, pages flipping, formulas muttered under breath, highlighters bleeding through worksheets.

And somewhere in the background—

"Why is it so quiet in here?"YN’s voice cut through the air like a misplaced song lyric. She stumbled inside like a gust of wind, dragging her feet, covered in dirt and grass from helping Mr. Kim out in the backfields.

Everyone groaned collectively.“Seriously?” Minji muttered, eyes still on her notebook.“You guys are so boring,” YN whined, flopping on the floor right between Jihan and Gyuvin. “Do you even rememberwhat fun feels like?”

"No," Jihan said flatly, "because I’d like to actually graduate."

"Aw, come on," YN nudged her, grin creeping in, “You’ve been in that same position for four hours. Let’s go to the market. I’ll buy you one of those ugly candies you like.”

Jihan didn’t even blink. “No.”

“Then let's sleep over at mine. I cleaned the room. There’s even extra pillows.”

“No.”

“Okay fine—field by the bakery? I heard old man Seok put scarecrows in party hats.”

"YN." Jihan finally turned to face her, tone sharp but not cruel. “This isn’t a joke. Final exams are in three months. You haven’t studied a single thing.”That quietness—the one YN always tried to run from—settled for a moment in the corners of the room.And YN just smiled lazily, like the weight of the world still hadn't landed on her shoulders.“I’ll start soon,” she mumbled, picking at the hem of her sleeve. “Just… not now.”

“Why not now?” Jihan asked, softer this time. “You’re not stupid, you just pretend to be.”

YN didn’t answer.Instead, she stood, gave Minji’s textbook a gentle flick just to annoy her, and shuffled out the house with a wave that no one returned.

.•.•.•. Later — YN’s Home

The moment she opened the door, she heard it.

Her mother’s voice, sharp and echoing from the kitchen."Where have you been? Everyone else is studying like their lives depend on it! Even your brother calls to ask about your progress."

YN dragged her feet toward the dining table. The food was set out—still warm. Her mom didn’t forget to cook, just like she never forgot to compare.“You could be like Minji. Or Intak. But no. You're out rolling in the dirt like some lost dog.”

YN didn’t answer. She just sat, picked at her rice, her chopsticks barely moving.

“Do you want to fail? Is that it? You want to stay stuck here forever?”

Still nothing.And when her mother finally left the room, muttering about wasted potential, YN sat alone in the silence she hated so much, eating cold rice, feeling a lump in her throat that refused to go down.

But she didn’t cry. Not yet.

She just whispered under her breath, almost like a joke to herself:"Maybe forever here isn’t the worst thing."

.•.•.•.

The sound of her mother’s voice was war.

“YN! WAKE UP! YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE!”YN groaned like a dying animal, face buried deep in her pillow, short messy hair sticking in all directions like a bristled wolf pup who lost a fight with a blanket.She sat up, blinking at the ceiling in betrayal.

Another day. Another slap of existence.Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffled to the mirror. Her hair looked like it had been personally electrocuted by fate, and her uniform was halfway buttoned wrong. She didn't fix either.Her stomach growled in protest. So did her soul.But she wasn’t prepared for what waited outside her bedroom door.

Voices. Not just her mom’s usual morning scolding or the radio humming from the kitchen. No.

That voice.

Warm. Proper. A little too cheerful for 7:12 AM.

Mrs. Kim. Minji’s mom.

“Oh god,” YN mumbled under her breath, her voice still hoarse from sleep. “They've teamed up.”She walked into the kitchen like a prisoner to sentencing—half-asleep, half-dead inside. The two women were already sipping tea and laughing like old friends who just discovered a new common enemy: her.

“Ah, there she is,” Mrs. Kim said sweetly, “Still looking like a sleepy cat, I see.”

YN gave a single blink in response, sat down like her bones were made of bricks, and reached for her spoon.It took a few seconds for the conversation to register as she ate in silence, spooning rice into her mouth while half-asleep, chewing like it was a part-time job.

“You know,” Mrs. Kim began, “Minji’s been studying so hard lately. We’re so proud. I told her, I hope she meets someone smart like her one day. Maybe a nice med student…”

YN paused, spoon hovering midair.Then her own mom added, as if conspiring with the devil herself:“Even Intak. He's so mature now. He deserves someone intelligent, someone who respects him. I think smart should marry smart.”

YN slowly, slowly, lowered her spoon. The rice in her mouth turned to chalk. Her jaw clenched.

It only got worse.

Mrs. Kim, glowing with a sudden burst of brilliance, clapped her hands.

“You know what I’ve always thought? Why not Minji and Intak! They’ve known each other since they were little, they’re so compatible.”At that exact moment, something inside YN cracked. It didn’t break loudly—it was quiet, subtle. A delicate splintering of peace in her chest.

She stood up without a word. The chair screeched against the tile. Her face twisted into that familiar, sharp frown that meant run. But she didn’t throw a tantrum. She didn’t argue. She didn’t even slam her spoon down like usual.She just walked out.Quiet. Cold. Almost mature.

But internally?

Apocalypse.

Married? Three kids?? All with Intak’s stupid smile and Minji’s straight A’s??? NO.

For the first time in what felt like forever, YN arrived late.And worse?Quiet.

She didn’t slam the door. She didn’t slide into her seat with a dramatic “I live for chaos” smirk. She didn’t steal Gyuvin’s pen or blow spitballs at Jungwan.

She just sat down.

Minji turned around, brows drawn together in confusion.“Did you—lose a fight with gravity this morning?”

YN blinked at her. No response.

“...Are you mad at me?”Still nothing.Minji tilted her head like a confused golden retriever. “What did I do?”But YN wasn’t looking at Minji.

She was staring at her.Staring like she had just seen her walking down the aisle with Intak in a pink hanbok, carrying a flower bouquet and flanked by two small children that looked exactly like her brother.Minji, meanwhile, blinked again, genuinely baffled.

“Are you—wait, are you imagining something weird again?”YN narrowed her eyes. Whispered.

“Four kids now. One of them plays piano.”

“What?”

“You and Intak.”

“What?!”

“You’re married. In my head. You’ve betrayed me.”

Minji looked around the classroom like she needed a witness.

“I literally just said hi to you.”YN finally sighed. Loud. Dramatic.“I don’t want to talk about it. Just know... I will never forgive you.”

By lunch, she still wasn’t fully back to her usual self. She let the boys bicker without interrupting, didn’t throw bread at Hanni, and didn’t try to sneak off with Jihan’s lunch.

She just sat there.Wounded.

And when Minji passed her a chocolate milk to cheer her up, YN took it.But only to write “DIVORCE PAPERS” on the side with her pen.

.•.•.•.

The week that followed was strange.Not strange like, “Oh no, the vending machine ate my coins” strange.

No.

More like, “Why does YN look like she’s plotting to fight God?” strange.Every morning she stomped into class, hair extra fluffy from being aggressively messed up during her sleep-deprived overthinking hours. She looked like she had physically wrestled with her dreams and lost. Twice.She barely spoke.

Didn’t poke Gyuvin with her pencil. Didn’t draw mustaches on Minji’s textbook. Didn’t try to convince Jihan to skip class and go look at clouds shaped like angry birds.She just sat there.Abnormally still.Unusually quiet.Emotionally combusting.

Every night, it was the same.

She would lie in bed, the room silent except for the occasional plop of her thoughts hitting the floor like wet socks.Then she’d remember it again.That cursed sentence.

“What if Minji and Intak dated? They’d be perfect.”

Her hand would immediately shoot up to her already chaotic hair, grabbing at it like maybe if she pulled hard enough, she could also pull the memory out of existence.

“Smart with smart… perfect match…” “Perfect match my a—”

She rolled back and forth in bed like a burrito full of rag

By Wednesday, her friends had definitely noticed.

Jungwan poked Hanni. “Is YN… okay? Why does she look like someone canceled her entire life?”

Hanni whispered back, “I asked her if she wanted my extra egg sandwich. She just blinked. Like... a sad emoji.”

Gyuvin added, “I told her a joke about chickens crossing the road and she said, ‘I hope they never come back.’”

Minji watched from her seat, confused but slightly amused. “Did she... get dumped?”

Jihan just stared at YN across the table, arms crossed.

“You’re acting weirder than usual,” she said flatly. “Which is saying something.”

YN didn’t reply. She was busy drawing on the corner of her notebook.

What was she drawing?

A stick figure wedding. Minji in a veil. Intak holding flowers. And herself... in the corner, wearing sunglasses and writing “MISTAKE” across their wedding cake.

Jihan leaned closer. “...Are you okay?”

YN covered the doodle instantly and muttered something about “studying death.”

Inside YN’s Head — “Totally Normal Thoughts”

Maybe Minji wants to marry someone smarter. Maybe I’m not enough. Maybe she’s already talking to Intak behind my back—wait, behind whose back? There is no back. There is no thing. They said nothing is official. BUT THAT'S HOW IT ALWAYS STARTS. They make jokes. Then suggestions. Then family dinners. Then BAM! Matching hanboks. Three kids. A dog named Logic.

She gasped.

Her hand went to her chest like her heart had personally betrayed her.

Meanwhile, Minji...

Minji, for her part, kept catching YN glaring at her like she had committed emotional war crimes in her sleep.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she finally asked one afternoon.

YN just scoffed. “You know what you did.”

Minji blinked. “I swear to God, if this is about that time I ate your strawberry yogurt—”

“IT’S WORSE THAN THAT,” YN snapped, clutching her chest dramatically. “It’s... unforgivable.”

Minji opened her mouth. Closed it.

Then turned to Jihan, helplessly. “What did I do?”

Jihan sighed. “You’ll know when she wants to ruin your life about it. For now, just pretend it’s the weather.”

Minji sat across from her, carefully unpeeling her boiled egg while watching YN poke aggressively at her rice like it owed her money.

“Okay,” Minji finally said, “Spill.”

YN looked up. “Huh?”

“Why are you acting like I murdered your pet goldfish?”

“I don’t even have a goldfish.”

“You’re avoiding my eyes. You’re not teasing anyone. You’re punishing the whole friend group like you’re a tiny mafia boss. What. Happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“YN.”

YN just took a deep breath, turned her whole body to face the window dramatically, and whispered, “...You wouldn’t understand.”

Minji blinked.“Did... someone break your secret game console?”

No response.

“Did Jihan say something mean about your froggy hoodie?”

Still nothing.

“...Did you find out I bought the last strawberry pocky pack at the corner store?”

YN turned to face her slowly, narrowed her eyes, and said in a deadpan voice: “...That was you?”Minji threw her hands up. “OH MY GOD, IT’S NOT EVEN ABOUT THAT—TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG!”

After that, Minji took her mission seriously.

She watched YN like a hawk. Or at least a judgmental pigeon.

She tried cornering Jihan after class. “Did she tell you anything?”

“No,” Jihan sighed, tying her hair back. “She’s been too busy pretending the wind personally betrayed her.”

“She’s punishing us for something, but I don’t know what. She didn’t even push Gyuvin into the bush this morning.”

“That’s how you know it’s real.”

“Do you think she’s mad at me?”

Jihan gave her a long look. “Minji. If she’s mad at you, it’s because of something you don’t even know you did. Which means she’s not really mad at you. She’s mad at her idea of you.”

“What does that even mean?!”

“It means you better go figure out what imaginary crime you committed before she exiles us all from the friend group.”

Minji waited by the shoe lockers like she always did, pretending to fix the strap on her bag until YN finally wandered by, dragging her feet like someone carrying the weight of ten fake arguments and a very real misunderstanding.

“Hey,” Minji said, falling into step beside her. “Walk me to the corner store?”

YN blinked. “Why?”

“Because I said please?”

“You didn’t.”

“I was going to.”

YN gave her a suspicious side-eye but nodded. “...Fine.”

They walked in silence for a bit.

Minji kept glancing at her. At the way her hair still had a pillow dent. At the way her lips were slightly pouting, unbothered by how bothered she clearly was. At the way she kept kicking pebbles like they were enemies in a video game.

“...Do you hate me?” Minji finally asked.

YN stopped walking.

“What?” she said, blinking.

“Because if this is your way of making me feel guilty, it’s working. I’ve re-evaluated every conversation we’ve had since second grade. I even apologized to a bug I stepped on, just in case it had emotional ties to you.”

YN snorted — actually snorted — and covered her mouth.

But it only lasted a second.

Then the scowl returned.

“I just think it’s funny,” YN mumbled, “how everyone wants to decide your life for you like you’re not even there.”

Minji tilted her head. “...What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

But Minji didn’t.

That Night — Alone, Again, YN...

YN lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, hugging a pillow like it was a person who owed her answers.

Minji’s voice echoed in her head.

“Do you hate me?”

“Because if this is your way of making me feel guilty, it’s working.”

And she hated how it made her chest ache.

She hated how she couldn’t stop picturing Minji in a white dress next to her stupid perfect brother.

She hated how she didn’t even know why she was so upset.

Well... maybe she did.

But if she said it out loud, it would become real. And if it became real, then what?

It started with laughter.

Loud. Sharp. Disrespectfully cheerful.

YN winced, eyes still shut under the weight of at least three unfinished dreams and one emotional crisis. Her brain, halfway between sleep and mild suffering, gave a quiet “ugh.”

She rolled over. Then back. Then groaned into her pillow like it was the source of her misery.

Why was everyone so... awake?

Her first thought: Maybe it’s still Friday and I’ve gone insane from school.

Her second thought: No, it’s worse. It’s Saturday.

Which meant no school... No schedule... No escape...

Just farming. And chores. And Minji being perfect somewhere. Gross.

She dragged herself to the bathroom like a dying Victorian child.

Eyes swollen from sleep. Hair resembling a haunted mop. She blinked at her own reflection, leaned against the sink, and — without meaning to — fell asleep on the faucet for two seconds.

Clonk.

She woke up with a toothbrush in her mouth and a minor forehead bruise.

Ten minutes later, with toothpaste stains on her shirt and a sock missing (somehow), she stumbled into the kitchen like a zombie with mild attitude.

The table was full. Voices all around. Clinking plates. Chatter.

But YN didn’t register any of it. She sat down. Forked a spoonful of eggs. Began eating with her eyes half open, completely unaware that her entire destiny was currently sitting across from her.

Then—

“YN,” her mother called gently. “Take these to Minji and Intak, please.”

Two steaming plates were pushed toward her. She blinked and stood, arms out, zombie-walking toward the hallway like a postman on autopilot.

She tried putting on one slipper, missed, kicked the other away accidentally, and grumbled under her breath, “…Where the hell are you going?” came a familiar, annoyingly smug voice.

YN blinked.

“Giving Minji her food?” she mumbled.

“MINJI’S RIGHT THERE,” the voice replied.

She turned her head, plates still in hand.

Her brain short-circuited.

Sitting at the table, in perfect clarity now that her eyes decided to function:

Minji, sipping orange juice, amused as hell.

Minji’s mom, politely smiling.

Her own brother Intak, smirking like the little villain he is.

Her mom, waiting to laugh.

Everyone stared at her.

Silence.

Then— laughter.

Like, evil laughter.

“First of all,” Intak said through cackles, “Minji’s literally right here, dummy.”

Minji gave a small wave. “Hi, YN.”

YN blinked. Her mouth opened. No words came out. Just steam.

“Second,” Intak continued, “it’s lunchtime. Not breakfast. That was six hours ago.”

“Third,” her mom added with a chuckle, “you’re not even wearing your slippers right.”

“Fourth,” Intak grinned, “Minji doesn’t live down the street. She’s here. Sitting. Literally next to you.”

YN, still holding both plates like a tragic maid, finally realized:

She had fully planned to leave the house, barefoot, in her werewolf hair and toothpaste shirt... to deliver lunch... to a person sitting across from her.

She quietly sat back down, ears red, defeated.

Minji gently reached out, took the fork from her hand, and placed it in front of her again.

“Eat,” Minji said, stifling a laugh. “You need brain fuel.”

“I hate everyone,” YN muttered.

Intak ruffled her hair. “You look like a baby wolf who failed kindergarten.”

YN smacked his hand. “Go back to the city, ratboy.”

As conversation resumed around the table — neighbors who got new goats, a farmer’s son who nearly crashed his truck into a chicken stand, and how Minji’s mom wanted to find a new rug for her hallway — YN stayed quiet.

Her face puffed in mild rage. Her eyebrows locked in “who invited them” mode. Her cheeks slightly red — either from shame or boiling embarrassment or the fact that Minji was staring at her again.

She caught Minji’s eyes once.

Minji looked away, biting her lip.

The thing is... even like this — especially like this — Minji found her so stupidly cute.

The puffed cheeks. The grumpy little frown. The wolf-hair mess she somehow pulled off.

God help me, Minji thought. She’s adorable when she’s mad.

But she said nothing.

Not yet.

She just kept watching from the corner of her eye — smiling like a secret was blooming in her chest.

It started normal enough.

Well — normal by this family’s standards.

They’d finished most of their food, the table now scattered with empty plates, sauce-smudged napkins, and a faint haze of steam rising from the last pot of rice. Everyone leaned back slightly, letting conversation drift lazily around the table like dust in sunbeams.

Until, of course, Intak opened his big mouth.

“So,” he began casually, glancing toward Minji, “still thinking of going into medicine for university? Or are you finally joining the farm mafia with YN?”

Minji, without hesitation, lifted her glass, sipped, and replied with the kind of confidence that could light a fire under anyone else’s insecurity. “Of course. I’m going for medicine.”

Silence.

Then—

SHHHRK. A not-so-subtle snort came from across the table.

YN, cheeks stuffed with rice and pickles, rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t pop out.

“YN!” her mom snapped, already preparing the scolding tone she’d mastered years ago. “At least pretend to be like Minji for once! All you think about is crops and goats—honestly.”

“But I’m the reason she even thought of medicine!” YN argued back, pointing dramatically at Minji with her chopsticks. “I was her first patient! Who do you think she practiced saving every time I fell out of a tree or ate a weird mushroom?”

The table burst into soft laughter.

Minji looked down, hiding a smile.

“She’s not wrong,” she muttered gently.

After the chaos died down and the conversations shifted to whose cow gave birth to twins and which neighbor is secretly stealing lemons, Minji stood up politely, gathering plates.

“I’ll do the dishes,” she said, already stacking them gracefully.

“No, no, dear—” YN’s mom started, but Minji had already disappeared into the kitchen like a polite ninja.

Naturally, YN was five seconds behind her, arms full of more dishes.

She didn’t offer to help — she just followed like a weird shadow.

Minji looked at her from over her shoulder, a little amused. “Still trying to avoid sitting near your brother?”

“Maybe.”

YN dumped the dishes into the sink and leaned against the counter, staring at Minji as she rinsed one plate, then another.

“Do you really still want to study medicine?” she asked suddenly, voice flat, like she was just confirming the weather forecast.

Minji blinked. “Yes.”

There was a pause.

A long, stretching silence.

Then— SHHRK.

Another sharp little snort from YN. Except this one was angrier. Like a mad, grumpy puppy version.

She turned abruptly on her heel.

Minji blinked. “Wait—what?”

YN stormed out of the kitchen like a furious cartoon character, muttering under her breath, “Doctor Minji, married to Intak... ugh... three annoying kids named Smart Jr. or whatever...”

She slammed the door as dramatically as a screen door could be slammed.

Minji, frozen in place, her gloved hands still covered in bubbles, just stood there.

“…What just happened?” she whispered to no one.

Still holding a soapy spoon in one hand, she looked out the window and caught a glimpse of YN stomping down the dirt path like someone who’d just been personally betrayed by the concept of higher education.

With a tiny gasp, Minji ripped off the yellow gloves dramatically.

“Mom, I’ll be right back!” she called out, already slipping her shoes on.

“Where are you going, sweetie?” her mother asked, confused.

“YN’s… weird.”

And with that, she ran out the door, chasing after the grumpiest girl in the village — the one who smelled like mint toothpaste, tomato stems, and unresolved emotional conflict.

Minji didn’t know what was going on.

She just knew that if she didn’t catch up, YN might combust.

And for reasons she didn’t want to admit yet, the idea of YN being mad — especially at her — kind of hurt.

.•.•.•.

It had been two days since YN’s dramatic dish-duty departure.

Two whole days of dramatic door slams, thunderous chewing, and loud, aggressive crop-stomping.

And somehow… not a single explanation.

Minji sat on the stone wall behind the school greenhouse, picking at the edge of her notebook. The summer heat clung to her skin, the kind that made time slow down and thoughts feel stickier than usual.

She sighed and looked to her left.

“Jihan,” she said, not bothering with small talk. “Can I ask you something?”

Jihan, who was halfway through stabbing an ant with her pen, blinked. “Is it about how tomatoes are technically a fruit—”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Pause.

Then Minji leaned in slightly, voice dropping like she was about to spill government secrets.

“…What’s up with your weird little best friend lately?”

Jihan tilted her head. “Weird little—oh. You mean YN.”

“Yes.”

Jihan blinked again. “She’s always weird.”

“No, I mean like—extra weird.”

Minji waved her hand vaguely. “She’s not saying random stuff. She hasn’t threatened to steal my pencils in three days. She keeps muttering to herself and aggressively chewing bread like it betrayed her.”

Jihan thought for a second.

Then shrugged. “Maybe it did betray her.”

“Jihan.”

“Okay okay okay.” She stretched her legs out. “But seriously—I don’t know what’s going on either.”

Minji raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

“Nope. I tried to ask yesterday. She looked me dead in the eyes, threw a strawberry at my head, and said ‘some things are better left unsaid.’”

Minji blinked. “That’s dramatic.”

“I know. She also said, and I quote: ‘The moon is no place for a woman in love with vengeance.’”

“...What?”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment, birds chirping, wind rustling.

“…Do you think she’s mad at me?” Minji asked quietly.

Jihan side-eyed her. “Did you do something?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then she’s probably mad at you.”

Minji slumped back against the stone, groaning softly. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Well,” Jihan said thoughtfully, “sometimes YN gets mad when people think things she doesn’t want them to think, or don’t think things she wants them to think.”

“That makes no sense.”

Jihan patted her shoulder gently. “Welcome to the club.”

YN was crouched behind a bush with a half-eaten rice triangle and eyes like a hawk on high alert. She wasn’t spying. (She was totally spying.) And if anyone asked, no, she wasn’t hiding from Minji. She just happened to be in the exact bush near the greenhouse at the exact moment Minji and Jihan sat down to talk about her.

She’d caught enough of their words to know they were gossiping about her.

YN stuffed the last bite of her snack in her mouth, narrowed her eyes dramatically, and whispered to herself:

“Let them wonder.”

Then she fell out of the bush with a loud THUD and immediately pretended to be asleep when a teacher walked by.

The bell rang. The sun was too bright. Gyuvin’s backpack was falling apart again. And YN was not walking with them.

“She said what?” Jungwan asked, frowning as he tried to catch up with Minji and Hanni.

“Something about... reorganizing the chicken feed?” Minji blinked, clearly still processing it herself.

They were all heading to Jihan’s place, sneakers kicking dust as the road curved toward the familiar hill. Minji had tried—twice—to convince YN to come. She’d even added a little "please," which she never did.

But YN just waved her off.

“Sorry. Gotta do... agriculture stuff,” she'd muttered with zero enthusiasm before turning away.

Now, even Gyuvin was starting to look worried—and Gyuvin thought anything could be solved with instant noodles and memes.

“She never says no to Jihan’s snack stash,” he said, clutching his half-zipped bag like it might fly off. “Or to skipping chores with us.”

Hanni nodded slowly. “She literally pretended to be a cow one time just to avoid watering the real cows.”

“That was... weirdly accurate,” Jungwan muttered.

By the time they reached Jihan’s porch, something had settled in the air: that heavy kind of silence where everyone knowssomething’s wrong but no one wants to say it first.

Inside, they dropped their bags like usual, and the familiar smell of lemon detergent and mischief greeted them.

“Okay,” Jihan said, spinning on her heel like she was about to open a true crime podcast. “Who pissed off YN?”

Everyone turned to look at Minji.

Minji flinched. “What—why me?”

“Because you’re the only one she lets share her snacks,” Hanni said, arms crossed. “That means something.”

Minji threw her hands up. “I swear! I didn’t do anything! I’ve been trying to talk to her for days and she’s just—grumpy! Weird! Avoid-y!”

“She’s always weird,” Gyuvin offered helpfully.

“Not this weird,” Jungwan said, chewing on a gummy bear. “I haven’t seen her throw anything in, like, a week. Not even at you.”

Minji bit her lip. “Do you think she’s mad at me?”

Jihan slumped on the couch and stared at the ceiling. “That’s what’s driving me crazy. Even I don’t know what’s going on with her, and I’ve known her since she licked a frog on a dare.”

Everyone winced at the memory.

“She didn’t even insult my playlist yesterday,” Hanni mumbled. “She just... left.”

“Maybe she’s depressed?” Gyuvin asked gently.

“Maybe she’s in love,” Jungwan said dramatically.

Minji blinked. “With who?”

Everyone went quiet.

Then Jihan slowly turned toward her with narrowed eyes. “...What if it’s you she’s in love with and she’s angry about it?”

Minji choked on her juice.

“WHAT—”

Jihan grinned, stretching her legs. “I mean, you did say she looked cute when she was yelling about potatoes that one time.”

“I say lots of people look cute yelling about potatoes!”

“Do you though?”

Minji covered her face with her hands and groaned. “Oh my god. I don’t know why she’s mad at me, okay?!”

The room fell into soft giggles and quiet chaos, all of them loud and dramatic and just a little too curious for their own good.

Meanwhile: YN’s House

YN sat on the floor, hair a mess, wearing socks that didn’t match, glaring at her math homework like it personally betrayed her.

From the kitchen came her mother’s voice, cheery and dagger-sharp:

“Minji is growing into such a fine young woman, don’t you think? And she wants to be a doctor! Can you imagine if she and Intak dated? That would be so perfect!”

“Ughhhhhh,” YN groaned, face-down on the table now.

“Even your brother thinks so—Intak, don’t you?”

“Hm?” Intak didn’t even look up from his phone. He was lounging on the couch like a king on his day off, barely reacting.

“I said don’t you think Minji and you would be a good match?”

“Sure. Whatever. I’m off-duty,” he said, scrolling lazily.

YN threw a carrot at his head.

“Hey!”

“You’re ruining lives,” she said darkly.

He blinked. “...What?”

Her mom kept humming. “Well, it’s just a thought. It’d be so cute. They’ve known each other since they were little!”

YN glared at her pencil like it was to blame for everything. This is fine. Everything’s fine. She tried not to think about how Minji smiled when she was sleepy, or how she always offered YN the last piece of tteokbokki, or how—

NOPE. Shut it down.

She curled tighter into her hoodie and whispered to herself:

“Maybe if I become a potato, I won’t have to feel emotions.”

The evening air in the village was golden and quiet. Too quiet. Until the slam of a wooden door cut through it like a war drum.

"WHERE ARE MY SHOES?!" YN shouted from inside the house.

Her mother blinked from the kitchen, holding a bowl of strawberries. “What's wrong with you now?”

"EVERYTHING."

“Did Minji say something again?”

“YES. NO. MAYBE. I DON’T KNOW.”

Intak didn’t even lift his head from the couch. “You’re being dramatic.”

YN threw her school bag at him. “Your FACE is dramatic.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“She’s probably upset you and Minji aren't actually engaged by now,” their mom chirped. “You were so close as kids. That would've been adorable.”

YN turned like a horror movie character.

Intak paused. “Wait, are you—”

“ENOUGH!!” she barked, slamming the door on her way out with strawberry-scented rage and the emotional stability of a raccoon in traffic.

Jihan’s House

Hanni had just opened a soda. Jungwan was building something suspicious out of marshmallows. Jihan was pretending not to be worried while rearranging her plushies. And Minji? She was on her phone, scrolling, heart not entirely in it.

“Still no message from YN?” Gyuvin asked, upside down on the beanbag.

“She’s fine,” Minji muttered, even though she’d checked her phone exactly ten times in the last half hour.

“She better be,” Jihan said with narrowed eyes. “Because I don’t want to wake up one day to find out she ran away to join a traveling chicken cult.”

They all nodded. That was not outside the realm of possibility.

And then—

SLAM. The front door crashed open with the force of destiny and sheer emotional chaos.

They screamed. Gyuvin fell off the beanbag. Jihan clutched a pillow to her chest like a shield. Minji dropped her phone.

YN stormed into the house like a girl possessed, hair a little wild, eyes blazing with indignation and mysterious betrayal.

“Where is she?!” YN barked.

Everyone blinked.

“She’s right there?” Jungwan said, pointing to Minji.

Without a word, YN marched across the room, grabbed Minji by the wrist—firm but not unkind—and pulled her up.

“Come. We need to talk.”

Minji blinked. “Wh—what?! Wait—okay???”

She barely had time to process it before she was being dragged out of the room, her friends' shocked faces blurring behind her.

They reached the front porch, but YN kept going. Down the steps. Past the garden. Toward the big tree at the edge of the field behind Jihan’s house.

Minji stumbled behind her, too stunned to speak. Not protesting. Not resisting.

Just… confused. And nervous. And a little hopeful.

Behind them, the window to Jihan’s room creaked open. Jungwan popped his head out. Then Jihan. Then Hanni, on top of Gyuvin.

"Shh!! She's gonna confess!" Hanni whispered.

“Shut up! My nose is touching the screen,” Gyuvin hissed.

YN finally let go.

They stood in the golden evening light, cheeks flushed, breaths uneven. Minji was sweating slightly, more from anticipation than anything else.

YN turned to her slowly, eyes unusually serious.

Minji's heart pounded.

She couldn’t breathe. Not properly. Not when YN was looking at her like that.

Is this it? Is she gonna say it? Is she gonna say she likes me?

YN took a deep breath.

“I need to tell you something.”

Minji swallowed hard. “Okay.”

YN stepped closer, voice strangely calm now. “I’ve been thinking about it all week.”

Minji’s brain was screaming.

This is happening. This is actually happening. She’s about to say—

“I want you to tutor me.”

Minji stared.

“...What?”

“I need you to teach me,” YN said with all the gravitas of a heartbroken poet. “I’m failing math and chemistry. And biology. And physics. And probably gym too if I don’t stop insulting the coach.”

Minji blinked once. Twice. Her brain rebooted. All the adrenaline she’d built up? Wasted.

“You—what?? That’s it??”

“I’ve made up my mind,” YN continued, ignoring her reaction. “I’m going to study hard. I’m going to get into a good school. I’m going to—” her voice cracked slightly, “—ruin your parents’ matchmaking plans by becoming so successful on my own that they’ll stop trying to marry you off to my brother.”

Minji blinked.

“Wait, what?!”

YN froze.

“Oh.”

Minji squinted. “Wait wait wait. Is that why you've been acting insane all week?”

“I haven’t been insane. I’ve been emotionally compromised.”

“And you thought my mom trying to set me up with Intak was real?”

“Well…” YN scratched the back of her neck. “Yes. I panicked, okay?! And then you were being so… smart and cute and supportive and—ugh! I couldn’t take it!”

Minji blinked again. “...So instead of talking to me like a normal human, you ignored me for five days, staged a dramatic exit from your house, and dragged me into a field?”

“I had feelings!” YN said defensively.

Minji sighed and dragged her palm down her face.

Then muttered, “Idiot.”

YN frowned. “Hey!”

Minji looked away, flustered. “You scared me. I thought you were gonna say you liked me.”

There was a beat of silence.

“...Would that have been so bad?” YN said quietly.

Minji looked back at her, expression softening just a little. YN’s eyes were wide and sincere, a little lost. A little shy.

“I don’t know,” Minji whispered. “Maybe not.”

.•.•.•.

🐻

[lostrologyy]

can I request a pt2 for the oh dark!jjames post

-🍓

dark!james convincing you to move in with him*. ⋆

cw: fem!reader. stalking. obsessive/possessive behavior. gaslighting?. not proofread!

a/n: here you go my love, hope you like it, mwah<3! btw i already have another request for dark!james i'm planning to use as a part 3 so i'm really excited!!

your roommate tells you on a weekend. she’s sweet about it, or at least tries to be, but it doesn’t soften the blow. she and her boyfriend finally decided to start living together, and now you’ve got three weeks to find a new place to move to.

you tell james that night, anxiously chewing on your thumbnail as you sit at the aisle of his kitchen, watching him prepare something for dinner, shirtless.

his head whips around so fast the moment you mention it, the engines on his brain moving as he knows this is his fucking chance. “wait, what?”

“I know,” you groan. “but it’s fine, I guess. I’ll just find something temporary. I can’t afford an entire rent by myself yet but—”

“move in here.” he blurts.

you blink. “what?”

he’s already going to the living room, searching for the bag you packed to spend only the night at his place. he looks like he’s ready to help you pack all your stuff that very second. “just until you figure it out,” he says, acting casual. “you know I’ve got the space.”

“no, james, I couldn’t—”

“please,” he says. his face softens as he gets closer and closer, until he’s standing between your legs. “seriously, you’d be doing me a favor. this place gets fucking quiet when you’re not here.”

you laugh. “I was here for like, two nights last week.”

he shrugs. “best two nights of my life.”

you miss the way he watches you as you think. how tightly his fingers are laced together, knuckles white. like he’s holding something back.

you doubt this is a good idea. he’s been acting strange lately for some reason—no, not really, he’s been the same since practically forever, it’s just you. you’ve started noticing small things about him you’re not sure about, like how his eyes and hands linger on you longer than they should, or the way he says some things, giving you more than enough "advice" concerning your love life. he cares too much. a bit weird, if someone were to ask you.

still, it seems like the only option now. you don’t have enough money to pay for a whole apartment on your own, and it’s always really difficult to find a roommate that is not a weirdo.

“...okay,” you say finally. “just until I find something else.”

and james just smiles like he’s won the lottery. like you’ve handed him the fucking sun.

the first night you move in, he gives you the bigger dresser. the fluffier pillows. the good towels.

the second night, he insists on making you dinner, since he already knows your favourites and he enjoys cooking anyway. you spent the evening in sweatpants and fluffy socks, sharing a bottle of wine and watching some documentary james has been talking a lot about lately. you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder.

the third night, he walks in on you half-naked.

it’s an accident, of course. you’d left the bathroom door cracked open, not realizing. you’re bent over, digging through your overnight bag in just your underwear and a tank top when you hear the door creak.

“oh—shit, sorry!”

he turns fast and slaps a hand over his eyes, but you catch the look before he does. the flicker of want in his eyes, that little twitch of his jaw.

you just laugh it off, tell him it’s fine.

but what you don’t know: your old roommate didn’t make that decision herself.

james did.

he caught her at a cafe one evening and joined her at her table. had a little chat about it. nothing violent or scary. just enough to make her question both hers and your safety. he mentioned you’d recently broken up with this guy, and he was apparently stalking you, following you everywhere, sending you upsetting messages, he was just afraid the prick was going to escalate one day and decide to break in the apartment, maybe even harming you or her if someone was home. james made her think you’d be better off with someone else —him— and that if you weren’t living there anymore she had nothing to worry about.

he’d planned the timing perfectly. left the dresser half empty for weeks. bought extra pillows. made room in his bathroom cabinet without ever saying why.

and you don’t realise how tightly the web is spun. you think he’s your best friend, your safe place. even if you’ve been confused by your feelings for him the last couple of days.

but you are safe—with him.

and that safety comes with chains you haven’t felt tighten yet.

lostrologyy © 2025.

[rekino2114]

Taking a hit in battle for the hundred line girls

A/n:my first post back from break and my first hundred line post so I hope you enjoy. These days I think I'll only post the first fics for most of the new fandoms i just added so I hope you'll like those too.

I'll probably add this to all my hundred line posts but If you want to request please read the warning in this masterlist before doing so

Hiruko shizuhara

She stopped cleaving the remaining invaders in front of her, and her smile dropped as soon as she saw your body on the ground behind her

".....y-y/n.....what?"

As soon as she figured out what happened, her face darkened, and she started cutting through the hoard of enemies, she wasn't even bothering to look at their insides or taking the usual sadistic pleasure in slaughtering them she was just ruthlessly and emotionlessly killing all of them

She stole her allies' kills too, which wasn't that hard because she is stronger than most of them, so much so that they got worried about how she was acting

"....h-hiruko what's-"

"Shut your mouth, I don't want to talk, just focus on supporting me"

"..........."

"And also I'm absorbing the commander this time, I'm not taking no for an answer"

When the battle was over, she didn't talk to anyone only waited for you to get revived and come back, and when you did she just looked at you and told you to go to her room. You were expecting her to be mad at you, but instead, she just hugged you

"Huh? Hiruko? Wh-"

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"I couldn't just let you get hurt, I can just get revived anyway"

"Do you think I enjoy watching you die? It doesn't matter if you're fine now......that.. still affects me"

".....I'm sorry..."

".....just don't pull another stunt like that"

Darumi amemiya

She was too distracted laughing around on the battlefield and killing the invaders to notice anything else, so it's only when she turns around to talk to you that she sees your body on the ground behind her

"Hey y/n did you see that super cool move i did!? It was straight out of-......h-huh y/n?"

When she realized what happened, she went to your body and held it while fake crying dramatically

"Noooooo!!!! Y/nnnnnnn!!! *sniffle* you were so young and hot! Don't worry I'll keep living for you"

".....uh darumi you know they can just get revived right?"

"Shut up Takumi! I'm having my character moment"

After she spent a bit more time "mourning you" she got up and happily jumped around line nothing happened

"Hehehehe, now that these monsters killed y/n I have even more of a reason to massacre all of them! This will be so fun~"

After darumi going around and just killing everything she saw while laughing hysterically, the battle ended, and as soon as she saw you get revived, she pounced on you and hugged you

"Yay y/n you're back!"

"Thanks darumi and sorry for dying"

"Oh no worries, it was actually kinda fun, I got to avenge you and that felt good also your body looked cute~"

".........thanks?"

"Ooohhh do you think I could try dying next time? Then you can see how beautiful my body looks and I wanna see you go avenge me too, I bet you'll look sooo hot and badass while you're killing everything in my name hehehe"

"................."

Tsubasa kawana

She's always got her eyes on the road whenever she's driving her car so she can't really see the enemies trying to attack her from the other side also because that's rarely a problem

However, it seems that this time, the invaders decided to completely surround her vehicle, leaving her vulnerable and in danger of dying if you hadn't stepped in

You tried to hold off the invaders but ended up getting overwhelmed and dying there all while Tsubasa watched from the car screaming at you to stop

As soon as she saw what happened to you she couldn't help herself and started puking in the vomit pouch takumi gave her

"Tsubasa are you OK? Are you sure you can keep going?"

"..I *hurk* y-yes I just need a....few minu- *bleergh*"

".....A-alright"

Despite her difficulties, she still kept on fighting as hard as always, and when she finished.....she went to the bathroom because she still had to puke

But when she saw you again she felt relieved but tried her best to act like nothing happened even if of course you could see something was wrong

"I-i'm sorry"

"For what?"

"I should have fought better, I didn't want you to watch me die, I should have been stronger"

"N-no it's fine, you saved me, you really couldn't have done better, also it didn't affect me.......much"

"....you puked didn't you?"

"H-huh?"

"Come on Tsubasa I know you"

"B-but don't joke about that!"

"Alright sorry"

"It's fine.......I'm just glad you're here again"

Kako tsukumo

One of the main disadvantages of being a sniper is that kako is particularly vulnerable to strikes from behind, normally ima would be there to protect her, but on this occasion he was surrounded too so you had to go and take the hit this time

Kako looked back when she heard you scream in pain and almost cried when she saw your body

"...y-y/n....no!"

Of course, she knew you were gonna come back, but part of her couldn't help but blame herself, the whole reason why she joined the fight was that she wanted to be useful and protect everyone you and her brother especially and in the end you still had to save her

After the fight ima tried to comfort her but she wouldn't be happy until you came up to her and hugged her silently

"....I'm sorry"

"It's alrig-"

"No, I should have been stronger, I need to protect and.....I couldn't even do that"

"Kako, the enemy attacked you from behind, there was nothing you could do"

"No...i-i"

"You're really strong, of course I saved you because I love you but also because you're an incredibly valuable asset to this team, you're incredibly strong kako, and I love you because of that"

".....y/n.....thank you so much"

"It's nothing"

"But next time, I'll be the one to save you!"

"Hehe, I'm sure you will"

Nozomi kirifuji

It all started like usual, Nozomi was providing support to the troops from the back while you were fighting with the rest, it all seemed fine until you heard nozomi scream

When you looked back, you saw your girlfriend surrounded by tons of invaders. She was trying to take care of them with her gun, but it was obvious that there were too many for her to handle alone so without a moment of hesitation you went up to her and started helping her

"Y/n? W-what are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious? Saving you"

You tried your best to kill all of the invaders, but there were too many for you too, so you eventually told nozomi to run

"N-no y/n! I can't just leave you here!"

"You have to! You can't be revived, remember? If you die right now, you die for real......and I won't let that happen"

She reluctantly sprinted away leaving you to the invaders trying to hold back her tears as she watched them kill you

The moment you got revived, nozomi jumped on you and hugged you, crying in your chest

"N-nozomi.....it's alright....I'm here now"

".....y/n......thank you so much"

"Huh?"

"You gave your life for me.....thank you"

"W-well not really, I can always get revived"

"But you still died and went through the pain of it just so I could live......I love you...so much"

"...I love you too nozomi, that was the least I could do"

Kyoshika magadori

She immediately went up to cut down all of the invaders that stood in her way. You followed her, of course, and you two went through the hoards, killing as many enemies as you could

That was until the commander showed up. Kyoshika tried to hurt it, but her slices did little damage, and you saw the enemy charge up an attack meant for kyoshika

"Look out!"

"Y-y/n!?"

You sprinted towards her and pushed her out of the way, unfortunately, causing you to get hit by the commander's attack instead

Kyoshika looked at your body, and her eyes widened before they focused on the enemy as she took out her sword

"You vile fiend! How dare you attack y/n! Me and the holy jumanjii sword will cut you down!"

She proceeded to kill the commander, with her friends' help, of course, but she insisted on being the one to absorb the commander as revenge for you

She greeted you with a smile when you came back, trying to act like she wasn't fazed at all, but you could see she was still reeling from seeing your death

"Y/n! I'm glad you're safe, I thought being killed by such a cruel creature would leave your soul wandering unable to find rest.....I thought I'd never see you again"

"......D-don't worry kyoshika....I'm here now"

"O-of course and I'm very happy for that, however I will never let anything like that happen again, me and the holy jumanji sword will protect you my soul mate!"

"Eheh, I'm glad, I feel very safe with you around"

Eva

A/n:just a disclaimer I guess, eva will probably be the most out of character one and the hardest to write for just because In the route I'm in she's brainwashed so I'll write for her like that, I'll still try my best though cause I really like her and feel really bad for her she's like the maple of this game for me

She was just following the orders she was given, killing as many invaders as she could, she didn't hesitate in severing the bodies of all of those creatures it didn't matter how she felt about that, she just had to continue killing

That was until a particularly strong hoard of them arrived. Again, just following her orders, she immediately went up to the various invaders and started killing them one by one

However, she had underestimated just how many of them there were and got overwhelmed, even still she didn't back down. She had to follow orders after all, killing as many invaders as possible

But just when she was about to die you came to the rescue, helping her kill the remaining enemies and when she was about to ask you what she should do next she saw your body drop because an invader you had missed stabbed you in the back

"..............y/n?..........."

When she saw that something inside her snapped, she wanted nothing more than to massacre that invader who hurt you, part of it was because it was her orders but mainly it was something from deep inside her....the true her...she didn't care who that invader was or what its relationship with her was she wanted to kill it for killing you

"....you killed y/n.....................I'll kill you....killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill-"

And she proceeded to do just that murder that invader. After the battle was over, she asked if she could see you again and went to visit you

"O-oh eva"

"......y/n.....thank you"

".....it's nothing, I know I can't fully help you so.......I thought protecting you was the least I could do"

"..................."

"....would you.......like to cuddle or something?"

"...if that is what you wish-"

"No eva, I'm not telling you, I'm asking you if you want to"

".........yes please"

V'ehxness

A/n:in probably all of the v'ehxness posts I'll do, you will also be an invader commander with the same goals as her cause I actually really like writing healthy villain x villain and this is a perfect excuse to do it

You and v'ehxness were getting ready to completely destroy the academy, with your combined strength defeating the defense unit was a trivial task, and now you were about to finally end this war once and for all and start your perfect world

But then you saw a weird pink light coming closer. You understood what it was and saw that It was going for v'ehxness, so you did the only thing you could think of doing, you pushed her out of the way and let the boy made of undying flames hit you instead causing you to fall to the ground injured and unconscious

When v'ehxness saw the state you were in her eyes widened in disbelief and a hint of worry before they moved back to those idiots you were fighting before with the angriest look she had ever given anyone

"You pathetic worms! How dare you hurt my beloved's superior self! I'll slaughter every single one of you lowly scum!"

She knew she could have ended it right there, their secret weapon wouldn't be able to land another attack after the one that hit you and the soldiers were already injured and tired......but if she had taken too much time you would've probably died because of your injuries and she could never let that happen

So she carried your body back to the base while swearing revenge on your enemies for what they did for you. She then helped you recover to full health, waiting until you woke up

"....y/n....I see you're awake"

"....v'ehxness....I'm sorry"

"Don't apologize.....i understand why you did that ......however don't you dare ever do something like that again, do you understand?"

"W-what?"

"We are going to rule together as gods I won't let you throw your life away with such a foolish act, you knew I could have taken that hit"

".....yes but-"

"Do you understand....y/n?"

"......yes I'm sorry"

"Good, but like I said don't apologize darling. If I was in your position....I'm not sure i wouldn't have let my emotions take over too"

".....thank you"

"Let's rest together now, we have a long time before our next attack after all and we must regain our strength"