Summary: When you move into a new apartment across the hall from two very unusual neighbors, you expect awkward introductions—not a physicist completely short-circuiting at the sight of you. Leonard Hofstadter has spent his life mastering science, but talking to women? Especially one like you? That might be the one equation he can’t solve.
The hallway smelled faintly like takeout food and something electrical—like overheated wires or ambition. You adjusted the last box in your arms, nudging your apartment door shut with your foot.
New place. New start.
And apparently… new neighbors.
You glanced across the hall at the door labeled 4A. Voices filtered through—one higher, quick and slightly panicked; the other flat, precise, and already annoyed at something.
You smiled to yourself.
Well… might as well introduce yourself.
You stepped forward and knocked.
There was a pause. Then rapid footsteps.
The door swung open to reveal two men. One stood stiffly, tall, with a blank expression that suggested he was already judging you. The other—
The other stared.
That was your first impression of Leonard Hofstadter: completely frozen, eyes wide behind his glasses, like someone had just replaced his brain with static.
“Hi,” you said, offering a friendly smile. “I just moved in across the hall—”
Leonard’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
Nothing.
You tilted your head slightly. “You okay?”
“I—uh—yes. No. I mean—yes! I’m… fine.” He swallowed hard, still staring at you like you were some kind of rare cosmic phenomenon. “You’re—uh—you’re… here.”
The taller one beside him sighed. “Fascinating observation, Leonard. Truly groundbreaking.”
Leonard shot him a look. “I’m trying to talk!”
“Then I suggest forming coherent sentences,” the other replied dryly.
You bit back a laugh.
“I’m Y/N,” you said, shifting the conversation along before Leonard completely combusted. “Thought I’d come say hi.”
“I’m Leonard,” he blurted out quickly, as if he’d been waiting his entire life for that exact moment and still wasn’t prepared. “Leonard Hofstadter. I’m a physicist. Experimental. Not theoretical—that’s him.” He gestured awkwardly beside him. “Not that theoretical is bad, it’s just different, and I—wow, I’m talking too much.”
You smiled, amused. “It’s okay. I like enthusiastic.”
That did not help.
Leonard blinked, clearly trying to process that sentence without passing out.
“I’m Sheldon Cooper,” the other man said. “And I don’t like unexpected social interactions, so if this introduction could be concluded within the next thirty seconds, that would be ideal.”
“Nice to meet you too,” you said, laughing softly.
Leonard was still staring.
Not subtly.
Not even a little.
You waved a hand lightly in front of his face. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes!” he said quickly. “I mean—no, I mean—yes, I’m okay, I just—uh—”
He stopped. Took a breath. Tried again.
“You’re very—” he began, then immediately panicked. “—new! You’re very new. Which makes sense. Because you just moved in. Across the hall. From… me.”
There was a beat of silence.
Sheldon closed his eyes. “Painful.”
Your smile widened, a little softer this time. “Well, Leonard… it’s nice to meet you.”
“You too!” he said instantly. Too instantly.
You took a small step back toward your apartment. “I should probably finish unpacking, but… maybe I’ll see you around?”
“Absolutely!” Leonard said. “Yes. Around. The hall. Or… other places. Not in a weird way—just—geographically speaking.”
You laughed, unable to help it.
“Goodnight, Leonard.”
“Goodnight,” he echoed, still standing there like he’d just witnessed a miracle.
You disappeared into your apartment, door clicking shut behind you.
Leonard didn’t move.
For a full five seconds.
Then—
“I have no idea what just happened,” he said faintly.
Sheldon crossed his arms. “You encountered an attractive neighbor and immediately lost all functional communication skills.”
Leonard turned to him. “Did you see her?”
“Yes,” Sheldon replied. “I also observed your cognitive collapse in real time. It was like watching a computer overheat.”
Leonard ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “I couldn’t think. I literally couldn’t think. I had thoughts, but they just—left. Like my brain evacuated.”
“Yes, that tends to happen when you’re out of your depth,” Sheldon said. “Which, based on that interaction, is anywhere within a ten-foot radius of her.”
Leonard ignored him, glancing at the closed door across the hall.
A small, disbelieving smile crept onto his face.
“She lives right there,” he said.
“Yes,” Sheldon replied flatly. “A fact you will undoubtedly overanalyze to a statistically significant degree.”
Leonard barely heard him.
Because for the first time in a long time, something unexpected had entered his carefully structured world.
Featuring: Alysa Liu, Ilia Malinin, Amber Glenn, Jason Brown, Andrew Torgashev, Madison Chock & Evan Bates, Ellie Kam & Danny O'Shea, Christina Carreira & Anthony Ponomarenko, Emily Chan & Spencer Howe
Three months.
Three whole months since Isabeau Levito had walked out of your apartment with tears in her eyes and an Olympic dream hanging over her head like a storm cloud.
Three months since she told you:
"I can't do this right now."
And somehow, despite the shaking in her voice and the way her hands clung to yours like she wanted to take it back, she still left.
At first you thought she'd calm down. Call you. Text you. Show up crying at your door saying she made a mistake.
But she didn't.
Instead, the entire world watched her go to the Olympics.
Watched her smile under bright arena lights.
Watched commentators call her graceful and composed and focused.
Meanwhile you sat at home trying not to cry every time someone mentioned figure skating.
The breakup had been ugly too.
Not dramatic screaming or cheating or betrayal.
Worse.
Cold.
Painfully practical.
She kept insisting the relationship was becoming "too much pressure" before the biggest competition of her life. That she couldn't balance emotions and expectations and training all at once.
You remembered staring at her in disbelief.
"So I'm a distraction now?"
And the way she'd immediately started crying told you everything.
She never wanted to say yes.
But she never said no either.
---
You were standing in the freezer aisle of a grocery store three months later debating between two ice cream brands when you heard familiar laughter behind you.
Loud.
Chaotic.
Very unmistakably figure skaters.
You froze.
"...Alysa, that is literally not healthy."
"You literally eat dry cereal at midnight," another voice shot back.
You turned before your brain could stop you.
And there they were.
A small crowd of athletes in Stars on Ice jackets walking through the store like they were trying and failing to be subtle.
Alysa Liu was holding three different snack bags while laughing at something Amber Glenn had said.
Ilia Malinin was pushing the cart with the exhausted expression of someone who had lost control of the group twenty minutes ago.
Further back, Jason Brown was apologizing to another shopper after nearly bumping into them.
And then—
Her.
Isabeau Levito.
She looked thinner than you remembered. Tired too. But the second her eyes landed on you, she stopped walking completely.
The entire group noticed immediately.
"Oh," Alysa muttered softly.
Nobody moved.
You should've left right then.
Instead, you stood there gripping your shopping basket hard enough to hurt.
Isabeau looked like she'd seen a ghost.
"...Hi."
Your stomach twisted violently at the sound of her voice.
"Hi."
The silence after was unbearable.
The rest of the Stars on Ice cast suddenly became very interested in nearby shelves.
Except everyone was obviously listening.
Isabeau stepped forward carefully. "I didn't know you lived near this stop."
"I don't," you answered shortly. "I'm visiting a friend."
"Oh."
Another silence.
Then she said quietly, "You look good."
You almost laughed at that.
Three months of crying yourself to sleep and that was what she noticed?
"You don't get to do this."
Her expression immediately fell. "I just wanted to talk—"
"About what exactly?"
People nearby were definitely staring now, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.
"You broke up with me a week before the Olympics," you said. "Do you understand how insane that was?"
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do."
Isabeau glanced nervously toward her teammates before looking back at you. "Can we maybe talk somewhere else?"
"No."
The answer came instantly.
Sharp enough that even Ilia looked uncomfortable.
You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady.
"You disappeared on me, Isabeau."
Her eyes watered immediately.
"I didn't disappear—"
"You absolutely did."
She looked devastated now, hands trembling slightly at her sides.
"I thought I was doing the right thing," she whispered.
"For who?"
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
You shook your head.
"You made this huge decision for both of us without even giving me a choice."
"I was under pressure—"
"And I wasn't?" you snapped.
Alysa quietly muttered an uncomfortable, "Maybe we should—"
"No, it's okay," Isabeau interrupted softly, though she looked anything but okay.
Your chest hurt looking at her.
That was the worst part.
You still loved her enough for this to hurt.
"I supported you through everything," you continued quietly. "Every competition. Every bad practice. Every panic spiral at two in the morning where you thought you'd fail."
Tears slid down Isabeau's face now.
"And then the second things got hard, you decided I was the problem."
"I never thought you were the problem," she said quickly.
"Then why did you leave me?"
That made her completely fall silent.
Behind her, even the team looked heartbroken now.
Jason lowered his eyes.
Amber looked genuinely upset for both of you.
Isabeau finally whispered, "I was scared."
You laughed bitterly.
"So was I."
Another long silence stretched between you.
Then Isabeau took one tiny step closer.
"I missed you."
That nearly broke you.
Because she sounded sincere.
Real.
Not polished for interviews or cameras or fans.
Just Isabeau.
But it was too late.
You stepped backward instead.
Her face crumpled instantly.
"I watched the Olympics," you admitted quietly. "You looked happy."
She actually looked shocked by that.
"I wasn't."
You clenched your jaw.
Because some part of you had wanted her to say that.
Wanted proof the breakup hurt her too.
But hearing it now only made you angrier.
"You know what the worst part is?" you asked.
Isabeau looked terrified to hear the answer.
"I would've stayed."
A tear rolled down her cheek.
"I would've supported you through everything. Stress, pressure, training, all of it."
Your voice cracked despite yourself.
"But you decided loving me was somehow going to ruin your career."
"No—"
"I hope the Olympics was worth ruining our relationship for."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even the noisy freezer aisle suddenly felt dead quiet.
Isabeau looked like you'd physically hit her.
Alysa stared at you with wide eyes.
Amber looked seconds away from crying herself.
And for once, nobody had anything clever or comforting to say.
You adjusted your grip on your basket before turning away.
Nobody stopped you.
Not even Isabeau.
Which somehow hurt most of all.
The automatic doors slid open as you left the store, cold night air hitting your face immediately.
Behind you, through the glass, you could still see her standing there frozen in place while the rest of the Stars on Ice cast awkwardly lingered around her.
Summary: After getting locked up alongside Misty Quigley, Natalie Scatorccio gets one phone call. There are a hundred people she could call—but only one she actually wants to hear. The problem? Natalie isn’t good at asking for help… or admitting how much she needs you.
The fluorescent lights were too bright.
Everything smelled like bleach and something worse underneath it—something stale, something permanent. Natalie leaned back against the cold wall, arms crossed, jaw tight as she watched the officer at the desk.
“Phone’s open,” he muttered without looking up.
She didn’t move right away.
From the bench across the room, Misty perked up instantly.
“Ooh! Are you going to call someone?” she asked, like this was some kind of sleepover and not a holding cell.
Natalie shot her a look. “Don’t.”
“What? I’m just curious,” Misty said, leaning forward. “Statistically speaking, people usually call either a lawyer or a loved one—”
“I said don’t.”
Misty held up her hands, but she was still smiling.
Natalie exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over her face before pushing herself off the wall. The last thing she needed right now was commentary.
She stepped up to the phone, picking up the receiver.
It felt heavier than it should’ve.
The officer slid a piece of paper toward her.
“One call,” he said. “Make it count.”
Natalie let out a dry huff.
Yeah.
No pressure.
Her fingers hovered over the keypad.
There were options.
People she should call.
People who made more sense.
But none of them were—
You.
Her jaw tightened slightly.
“Come on,” she muttered under her breath.
Before she could overthink it, she punched in your number.
Each ring felt longer than the last.
Once.
Twice.
Three—
“Hello?”
Your voice.
Soft. Familiar.
Everything in her chest twisted at once.
For a second, she forgot how to talk.
“…Nat?” you said, a little more alert now. “Is that—are you okay?”
She swallowed.
“Yeah,” she said, voice rough. “I’m… fine.”
A pause.
“You don’t sound fine.”
“Yeah, well,” she huffed quietly, leaning her forehead against the cool metal beside the phone, “I’m calling you from jail, so.”
Silence.
Then—
“…You’re what?”
“Relax,” she said quickly. “It’s not— I mean, it’s not good, but it’s not—”
“Nat.”
Your tone stopped her.
Grounded her.
“Are you hurt?”
The question hit harder than it should’ve.
“…No,” she said, quieter now. “I’m not hurt.”
“Okay,” you breathed. “Okay. That’s good.”
She closed her eyes briefly, listening to you steady yourself on the other end.
God.
She shouldn’t have called you.
Or maybe… that was exactly why she did.
“It’s stupid,” she muttered. “Just—wrong place, wrong time.”
“And you couldn’t call anyone else?” you asked gently.
Natalie let out a dry laugh.
“I could’ve.”
“But you didn’t.”
She hesitated.
Misty’s voice echoed faintly from across the room—something about “emotional prioritization”—and Natalie rolled her eyes before turning slightly away.
“…No,” she admitted.
Another pause.
Softer this time.
“Okay,” you said.
Not pushing.
Not judging.
Just… there.
Natalie’s grip on the receiver tightened slightly.
“I didn’t—” she started, then stopped, frustrated. “I’m not good at this.”
“At what?”
“This,” she said. “Calling. Asking. Whatever this is.”
“You don’t have to be good at it,” you replied quietly. “You just have to do it.”
She let out a slow breath.
“That’s the problem.”
“Nat.”
Your voice softened even more.
“I’m here. You called me. That’s enough.”
Something in her chest cracked a little at that.
She leaned more heavily against the wall, eyes fixed on nothing.
“…Can you come get me?” she asked finally, the words low, almost reluctant.
There it was.
The ask.
Small.
Simple.
Harder than anything else she’d said.
“Yeah,” you said immediately. “Of course I can.”
No hesitation.
No conditions.
Just yes.
Natalie’s eyes closed briefly.
“…Okay.”
“I’ll be there as fast as I can,” you added. “Just—stay there, alright?”
She huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Kinda the whole point.”
You smiled—you could hear it in your voice.
“Good.”
There was a beat of silence.
Neither of you hanging up.
Neither of you quite ready to let go.
“…Nat?” you said softly.
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you called me.”
Her throat tightened.
She swallowed it down, like she always did.
“…Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”
“Hang in there.”
“I will.”
Another pause.
Then, quieter—
“Hey… thanks.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I know,” she said. “Still.”
You let it sit there.
Accepted it.
“I’ll see you soon,” you said.
“Yeah.”
The line clicked.
Natalie stayed there for a second longer, the empty dial tone buzzing in her ear before she finally pulled the receiver away.
When she turned, Misty was already watching her.
“…What?” Natalie snapped.
Misty smiled, a little too knowingly.
“You didn’t call a lawyer.”
Natalie rolled her eyes, shoving her hands into her pockets as she walked back to the bench.
“Nope.”
Misty tilted her head. “Interesting.”
“Drop it.”
But as Natalie sat back down, her shoulders felt just a little less tight.
Summary: Six months after the crash, the wilderness has stripped everyone down to something raw and unrecognizable. Hunger gnaws, paranoia festers, and trust is a fragile, dangerous thing. But while the others drift further away, growing sharp and distant, you begin to notice the opposite in Misty Quigley.
She watches you. Protects you. Cares for you in ways that feel both comforting… and unsettling.
And in a place where survival comes first, affection might be the most dangerous thing of all.
The cold woke you before the hunger did.
That was new.
Six months ago, you would’ve complained—pulled your blanket tighter, rolled over, buried yourself deeper into comfort. Now, comfort didn’t exist. Not really. Not out here.
Your eyes adjusted slowly to the dim cabin light, gray and quiet before sunrise. Everyone was still asleep, bodies curled in on themselves like they were trying to disappear. You almost envied that—being able to shut everything out like that.
A floorboard creaked.
You tensed automatically, but the tension eased just as quickly when you saw her.
Misty.
She stood near the doorway, already awake, already dressed, like she always was. Her hair was pulled back, neat despite everything. Too neat. It didn’t match the rest of you anymore.
“You’re up,” she said softly, like she’d been expecting it.
“Couldn’t sleep,” you muttered.
“That’s okay.” She stepped closer, careful with her footing, like she’d memorized every creak in the wood. “I saved you something.”
That got your attention.
“Saved…?” Your voice dropped instinctively, glancing around the room.
Misty smiled—a small, secretive thing—and crouched beside your makeshift bed. From inside her coat, she pulled out a tiny bundle wrapped in cloth.
Dried meat.
Not much. But enough.
“You didn’t have dinner last night,” she said, like she was stating a simple fact. “You said you weren’t hungry, but… you were shaking.”
Your chest tightened a little.
“I’m fine,” you said, automatically.
“I know,” Misty replied quickly. “I just thought—this way you won’t get weak.”
She held it out to you, her fingers brushing yours for just a second too long when you took it.
Warm. Careful. Intentional.
You hesitated.
“Why didn’t you eat it?”
“I did,” she said, a little too fast. Then, softer, “I just made sure there was enough left.”
Something about that didn’t sit right. There wasn’t enough to go around anymore. There hadn’t been for weeks.
“Misty…” you started.
“It’s okay,” she interrupted, her voice gentler now. “You need it more.”
That wasn’t true. You both knew it.
But she was looking at you like it was.
Like it mattered.
You swallowed, then took a small bite. The salt hit your tongue like a shock, grounding you, pulling you back into your body.
Misty watched you the whole time.
Not in the way the others did—measuring, calculating, always on edge. No, her gaze was softer. Focused. Like you were something she was trying to take care of.
“You should eat slower,” she said quietly. “It’ll last longer.”
You huffed a weak laugh. “You sound like a nurse.”
Her smile flickered, just for a second.
“I like taking care of people,” she said.
You believed her.
That was the problem.
---
Later that day, while the others argued over rationing—again—you found yourself sitting just outside the cabin, knees pulled to your chest.
It was quieter out here.
Safer, in a way.
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
You didn’t need to turn around to know it was her.
“I’m not that far,” you said.
Misty moved beside you anyway, settling into the snow like it didn’t bother her.
“They’re tense today,” she said. “More than usual.”
“They’re always tense.”
“Yes, but today is different.”
You glanced at her. “How?”
She tilted her head slightly, like she was considering how much to say.
“People get unpredictable when they’re scared,” she said. “And they’re getting more scared.”
A chill ran through you that had nothing to do with the cold.
“You’re not scared?” you asked.
Misty looked at you then—really looked at you.
“No,” she said.
You frowned. “Why not?”
Her expression softened, just a little.
“Because I know how to take care of things.”
That should’ve reassured you.
Instead, it made your stomach twist.
Still… you didn’t move away.
---
That night, the wind howled louder than usual, rattling the cabin walls like it was trying to tear them apart.
You lay awake, staring at the ceiling, counting your breaths.
One.
Two.
Three—
A hand touched your arm.
You flinched, turning quickly.
“Misty?”
“Shh,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”
She was kneeling beside you again, like she had been that morning.
“Bad dream?” she asked.
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“Oh.”
She didn’t leave.
Her hand was still on your arm, thumb brushing lightly against your sleeve.
“You can come sit with me,” she offered. “It’s warmer near the fire.”
You hesitated.
Then nodded.
She helped you up—steady, careful, like you might break if she wasn’t gentle enough. You let her guide you across the room, past the others, to the dim glow of the embers.
You sat close.
Closer than you meant to.
Misty wrapped part of her blanket around your shoulders without asking.
“Better?” she murmured.
“Yeah,” you said quietly.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
The fire crackled softly. The wind screamed outside. The others shifted in their sleep.
And Misty stayed right there beside you.
Watching.
Guarding.
“You know,” she said after a while, her voice almost lost in the noise, “I’ll always make sure you’re okay.”
Your chest tightened again.
“That’s not something you can promise out here,” you said.
“I can,” she replied.
You looked at her.
She meant it.
Not in a hopeful way. Not in a comforting way.
In a certain way.
Like it was already decided.
Like she’d do whatever it took.
Your breath caught slightly.
Because part of you should’ve been scared.
But another part—the part that was cold, and hungry, and so, so tired of being alone—
Found it comforting.
You pulled the blanket a little tighter around yourself.
Misty’s hand found yours again, slipping into it like it belonged there.
Summary: Dating Van Palmer is fun, chaotic… and comes with one very specific challenge: meeting the team. When Van finally introduces you to the Yellowjackets, her teammates decide to have a little fun first—putting on their best “scary dad” act before letting you off the hook. Van, of course, is both horrified and way too entertained.
“Okay, don’t freak out.”
You glanced over at Van, who was currently walking backwards in front of you, hands shoved in her jacket pockets, her expression somewhere between excited and nervous.
“That sentence is not reassuring,” you said.
She grinned. “You’ll be fine. They’re just… a lot.”
“A lot how?”
Van hesitated for half a second.
“…Loud. Judgy. Weirdly protective.”
You slowed slightly. “Protective of you?”
“Yeah,” she said, like that was obvious. “You’re my girlfriend. That makes you… important.”
Your chest warmed a little at that, even as your nerves doubled.
“Van…”
“Hey.” She stopped walking, reaching out to grab your hands. “Seriously. They’re gonna love you.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I am!” she said quickly. Then, softer, “They just might mess with you first.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Van—”
Before you could finish, the gym doors swung open behind her.
:readmore
“Palmer!”
You both turned.
Inside, the team was already there—stretching, talking, tossing a ball around. But now?
Now they were all looking at you.
At you.
Van winced slightly. “Too late.”
“Who’s that?” someone called.
Van straightened a little, squeezing your hands once before letting go.
“That’s—uh—” she glanced at you, then back at them, “—my girlfriend.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then everything stopped.
Completely.
You blinked.
“…Why did everyone go quiet?” you whispered.
Van rubbed the back of her neck. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
“I think they’re doing a thing.”
“A thing?”
Before she could explain, a few of them started walking over—slowly. Too slowly.
One crossed her arms. Another cracked her knuckles. Someone in the back muttered, “So this is her, huh?”
Your stomach dropped.
“…Van,” you whispered, “why do they look like they’re about to interrogate me?”
“Because they are,” she said under her breath. “Just—go with it.”
“Go with it?!”
Too late.
They were already surrounding you.
One of them—tall, serious-looking—tilted her head slightly.
“So,” she said, voice low. “You’re Van’s girlfriend.”
You swallowed. “Yeah.”
Another stepped forward. “You treat her right?”
“Yes—?”
“‘Yes’?” someone echoed, raising a brow.
You blinked. “Yes. I do.”
A third voice chimed in, “You better. She’s one of ours.”
Van made a strangled noise beside you. “Guys—”
“No, no,” another interrupted, holding up a hand. “We’re just getting to know her.”
“This is not ‘getting to know her,’” Van shot back. “You’re being weird.”
“We’re being protective,” someone corrected.
“By threatening her?”
“We haven’t threatened her,” a girl said calmly, then looked at you. “Do you feel threatened?”
“…A little,” you admitted.
Van groaned. “Oh my god.”
“Relax,” one of them said, though she still hadn’t stopped staring at you like you were being evaluated. “We just need to know she’s good enough.”
You crossed your arms slightly, nerves starting to shift into something a little more stubborn.
“I am good enough,” you said.
That got a reaction.
A few exchanged glances. One raised her eyebrows, impressed.
“…Okay,” she said slowly.
Another leaned in slightly. “And if she gets hurt?”
You didn’t hesitate.
“She won’t,” you said. “Not because of me.”
The silence that followed felt… different.
Less tense.
Van looked at you, a small, surprised smile tugging at her lips.
“…Okay,” someone finally said, breaking the moment.
Then—
A grin.
“Yeah, she’s good.”
The whole group relaxed instantly, like a switch had been flipped.
“Oh my god, your face,” one of them laughed. “You were terrified.”
“I told you she’d pass,” another added.
Van stared at them. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“What?” someone shrugged. “We had to do the scary dad thing.”
“You don’t have dads,” Van snapped.
“Exactly. So we have to make up for it.”
You let out a shaky laugh, your tension finally breaking.
“You guys are ridiculous.”
“And you handled it,” one of them said, bumping your shoulder lightly. “Respect.”
Another nodded. “Yeah, welcome to the team.”
Van stepped closer to you, still glaring at them but clearly relieved.
“I’m so sorry,” she muttered. “I told you they’d be weird.”
“They weren’t that bad,” you said, smiling a little.
“Oh, give it time,” someone called from behind you.
Van rolled her eyes, then reached for your hand again, squeezing it.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah,” you said, squeezing back. “I think I passed the test.”
She grinned.
“Yeah,” she said. “You definitely did.”
From across the gym, someone shouted, “Hey, girlfriend! You coming to practice or what?”
Summary: At her secluded wellness retreat, Lottie Matthews offers healing, purpose… and something that feels like belonging. For you, it’s everything—especially now that you’re pregnant and more vulnerable than ever. But when Natalie Scatorccio and Misty Quigley arrive, they see something darker beneath Lottie’s calm exterior. The problem? You don’t. And you’re not about to let anyone take her away from you.
The air at the retreat always felt… still.
Not quiet—never quiet. There were always wind chimes, soft footsteps, distant murmurs—but still. Like everything moved slower here. Like the world outside didn’t exist.
You liked it that way.
Needed it, even.
Especially now.
Your hand rested absentmindedly over your stomach as you stood near the edge of the grounds, watching the others move through their morning routines. Meditation circles. Tea ceremonies. Soft laughter.
Peace.
That’s what Lottie had given you.
Peace.
“You should be resting.”
Her voice was gentle, familiar—immediately grounding.
You smiled before even turning around.
“I was,” you said. “I just wanted some air.”
Lottie Matthews stepped closer, her presence calm, steady, like it always was. Her hand brushed lightly over yours where it rested on your stomach.
“You have to take care of yourself,” she murmured. “You’re not just responsible for you anymore.”
“I know,” you said softly.
Her touch lingered.
It always lingered.
“You trust me, don’t you?” she asked quietly.
The question felt unnecessary.
Of course you did.
“With everything,” you answered without hesitation.
Lottie smiled—small, satisfied.
“Good.”
---
The tension came later.
You felt it before you understood it.
Raised voices. Sharp edges cutting through the usual calm of the retreat.
You followed the sound, unease settling in your chest.
And then you saw them.
Natalie Scatorccio stood near the center of the clearing, arms crossed, eyes hard. Beside her, Misty Quigley looked… almost excited.
Lottie stood across from them.
Still calm.
Still composed.
“What’s going on?” you asked, stepping forward.
Natalie’s gaze snapped to you immediately.
“There you are,” she said. “You might wanna hear this.”
Your stomach tightened.
“Hear what?”
Misty clasped her hands together. “We’re just having a little conversation about Lottie’s operations here.”
“Don’t,” Lottie said softly.
It wasn’t loud.
But it carried.
Misty paused—only for a second.
Then she smiled.
“Oh, I think she deserves to know.”
Natalie stepped forward slightly, her focus entirely on you now.
“This place?” she said. “It’s not what you think it is.”
Your chest tightened.
“It’s a wellness retreat.”
“No,” Natalie said flatly. “It’s not.”
Lottie’s hand found your arm, light but firm.
“You don’t have to listen to this,” she murmured.
But you were already looking at Natalie.
“What are you talking about?” you asked.
Natalie let out a breath, like she was choosing her words carefully.
“She’s controlling these people,” she said. “Manipulating them. Making them dependent on her.”
“That’s not true,” you said immediately.
Misty tilted her head. “Isn’t it? The isolation, the rituals, the way everyone hangs on her every word—it’s all very intentional.”
You shook your head, backing slightly closer to Lottie without even realizing it.
“She’s helping them.”
“She’s using them,” Natalie shot back.
“No—”
“She’s done this before,” Natalie continued, her voice sharper now. “You don’t know what she’s capable of.”
“I know exactly who she is,” you said, your voice rising despite yourself.
Lottie’s grip on your arm tightened just slightly.
Grounding.
Reassuring.
“You’re scared,” Lottie said softly to you, ignoring them completely. “That’s okay. They’re trying to confuse you.”
“I’m not confused,” you said quickly.
But your heart was racing.
Natalie stepped closer.
“You think this is love?” she asked. “You think she cares about you?”
Your chest tightened painfully.
“Yes,” you said.
“No,” Natalie said firmly. “She cares about what you give her. Your loyalty. Your trust. That’s how this works.”
“That’s not how this works,” you snapped. “You don’t know anything about us.”
Misty hummed thoughtfully. “Actually, we know quite a lot about Lottie.”
“Stop,” you said, your voice shaking now. “Just—stop.”
Lottie’s hand slid from your arm to your hand, intertwining your fingers.
“I’m right here,” she murmured. “You’re safe.”
Safe.
That word settled over you like a shield.
Natalie noticed.
Her expression hardened.
“Look at you,” she said quietly. “You’re defending her like you don’t even have a choice.”
“I do have a choice,” you shot back.
“Then choose yourself.”
“I am!” you said. “I chose her.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Final.
Misty’s smile faded just slightly.
Natalie studied you for a long moment, something almost frustrated flickering in her eyes.
“…You really believe that,” she said.
“Yes,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I do.”
Lottie squeezed your hand.
Proud.
Possessive.
“Then we’re done here,” she said calmly.
Natalie didn’t move.
But she didn’t argue either.
“Yeah,” she muttered finally. “We are.”
She turned, brushing past Misty.
Misty lingered a second longer, her gaze flicking between you and Lottie.
“…This isn’t over,” she said lightly.
Then she followed.
The clearing fell quiet again.
Too quiet.
Your breathing was still uneven, your chest tight with everything that had just happened.
Lottie turned to you slowly.
Her hand lifted, brushing gently along your cheek.
“You did so well,” she said softly.
The tension in your body eased instantly.
“They were wrong,” you said, more to yourself than to her.
“I know,” Lottie replied.
You leaned into her touch without thinking.
“I trust you.”
Her smile returned—small, satisfied, certain.
“I know you do.”
Her hand slid back down to rest over yours, still covering your stomach.
“And I’ll take care of you,” she murmured.
Your eyes closed briefly.
Relief washing over you.
Because she was right.
She always was.
And somewhere, deep down—buried under everything else—
Summary: Callie Sadecki has always been good at acting like she has everything figured out. But feelings? Especially these feelings? That’s new territory. Sneaking out to meet you at your shared hideout—the old treehouse you fixed up together—Callie finally decides to stop overthinking and take a chance. What starts as nerves and uncertainty turns into something she won’t ever forget: her first real crush, her first kiss… and the realization that she’s completely, undeniably hooked.
Callie’s heart was beating way too loud.
She was pretty sure her mom could hear it from down the hall.
She paused outside the back door, hand hovering over the handle, listening.
Nothing.
No footsteps. No voices. Just the quiet hum of the house at night.
“…Okay,” she whispered to herself.
Then she slipped out.
The cool air hit her face instantly, grounding her just enough to actually move. She shut the door gently behind her, wincing at every tiny sound like it was ten times louder than it actually was.
God, she was really doing this.
Not the sneaking out part—that wasn’t new.
But tonight?
Tonight felt different.
Because of you.
Callie shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, starting down the familiar path toward the woods. Her thoughts were running faster than her feet.
This is stupid.
No, it’s not.
What if she doesn’t feel the same?
What if she does?
That thought alone made her stomach flip.
She’d never—
Not like this.
Crushes on guys? Easy. Expected. Normal.
But you?
You were her best friend.
And a girl.
And no one had ever really talked about that like it was something she could have. Not at home. Not at school—not seriously, anyway.
So yeah.
She was nervous.
Terrified, actually.
But none of that changed the fact that every time you smiled at her, something in her chest went completely out of control.
And tonight… she was done pretending it didn’t.
---
The treehouse came into view through the dark, tucked between the branches like it had always belonged there.
You’d both spent weeks fixing it up—patching wood, dragging up blankets, turning it into something that felt like yours.
A place away from everything.
A place where things didn’t have to make sense.
There was already a faint glow coming from inside.
Callie’s heart jumped.
You were here.
She climbed up the ladder, trying to act normal, trying to be normal.
It didn’t work.
“Hey,” you said, looking up as she pulled herself inside.
And just like that—
Everything in her head went quiet.
“Hey,” she echoed, a little breathless.
You smiled at her, and yeah—that did not help her situation.
“You’re late,” you teased lightly.
“Am not.”
“You are. I’ve been waiting like… ten whole minutes.”
“Wow,” Callie scoffed, dropping down across from you. “Tragic.”
You laughed, handing her the vape without even asking.
Routine.
Familiar.
Safe.
She took it, her fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary.
Her brain short-circuited a little.
You didn’t seem to notice.
Or maybe you did.
Callie couldn’t tell anymore.
She leaned back against the wall, taking a slow breath, trying to steady herself. The air inside the treehouse was warmer, softer, filled with the quiet comfort she only ever felt here.
With you.
“You okay?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.
“Yeah,” she said quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
You gave her a look.
“The way you just answered that.”
Callie huffed a small laugh, rubbing the back of her neck.
“I’m fine,” she said again, softer this time.
You watched her for a second longer, like you were trying to figure something out.
It made her even more nervous.
“…What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” you said, but your smile was smaller now. “You just seem… off.”
Callie hesitated.
This was it.
This was the moment where she either said something—
Or kept pretending.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the vape before she set it down beside her.
“Can I tell you something?” she asked.
“Yeah. Always.”
That word—always—did something to her.
Callie swallowed.
“I don’t—” she started, then stopped. “I don’t really know how to say this.”
“That’s okay,” you said gently. “Just… try?”
She let out a shaky breath.
“I’ve never…” She laughed nervously. “This is gonna sound stupid.”
“It won’t.”
“It might.”
You nudged her foot lightly with yours. “Callie.”
She looked at you.
Really looked at you.
And suddenly, it didn’t feel as impossible.
“I think I like you,” she said, the words rushing out before she could stop them. “Like—not just as a friend.”
Silence.
Callie’s stomach dropped instantly.
“Okay,” she said quickly, panic creeping in. “You don’t have to say anything, I just— I needed to—”
“Callie.”
She froze.
You were closer now.
She hadn’t even noticed you move.
“…Yeah?” she said, barely above a whisper.
You were looking at her the same way you always did—
But different.
Softer.
“I was wondering when you were gonna figure it out,” you said quietly.
Her brain completely stopped.
“…What?”
You smiled a little.
“I like you too.”
Callie blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“Wait—seriously?”
“Yeah. Seriously.”
She let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, her shoulders dropping like she’d been carrying something way too heavy.
“Oh my god,” she muttered. “I thought I was gonna throw up.”
You laughed softly. “You looked like it.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Callie’s breath caught.
That—
That was new.
The space between you suddenly felt a lot smaller.
A lot more real.
She hesitated for half a second.
Then—
“Okay.”
And she leaned in.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t smooth.
But it was soft.
And warm.
And real.
Your lips met hers, and everything else just… disappeared.
The nerves.
The questions.
The fear.
All of it.
Gone.
Callie’s hand found your sleeve, gripping lightly like she needed something to hold onto, like she needed to make sure this was actually happening.
When you pulled back, her eyes stayed closed for a second longer before opening slowly.
“…Okay,” she whispered.
You smiled.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, a small, almost disbelieving laugh slipping out. “Okay.”
Summary: Six months after the crash, warmth is hard to come by—physically and emotionally. Travis Martinez isn’t exactly known for being gentle, not with everything he’s carrying. But when the world quiets down inside the cabin, and it’s just the two of you tangled together for warmth, something softer slips through—something he doesn’t show anyone else.
The cold never really left anymore.
It clung to everything—the walls, the floors, your clothes, your skin. Even inside the cabin, even wrapped in blankets, it was always there. Waiting.
You shifted slightly, tucking yourself closer into the warmth beside you.
Travis didn’t move at first, his arm heavy around your waist, his breathing slow and steady against the back of your neck. For a second, you thought he was asleep.
Then his hand tightened just a little.
“Stop moving,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep. “You’re letting the cold in.”
You huffed quietly. “I’m trying to get comfortable.”
“You were comfortable,” he muttered.
You smiled faintly, even though he couldn’t see it.
“You’re hogging the blanket.”
“Am not.”
“You are.”
There was a pause, then a quiet shuffle as he pulled more of it over you anyway.
“…There,” he said.
You blinked a little at that.
“Wow. Generous.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he murmured.
But his arm stayed tight around you, pulling you closer until your back was flush against his chest.
Warm.
Finally, actually warm.
For a while, neither of you said anything. The cabin was quiet except for the occasional shifting of someone in their sleep, the faint crackle of dying embers.
Your fingers absentmindedly traced along his arm, slow and light.
Travis exhaled softly behind you.
“Cold?” he asked.
“A little.”
His hand slid under the edge of your sleeve, fingers brushing against your skin. Warmer than yours. Always warmer.
“You should’ve said something, sweetheart,” he muttered.
You stilled.
He didn’t seem to notice what he’d said at first, his thumb absentmindedly moving against your arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“…Did you just call me sweetheart?” you whispered.
There was a beat of silence.
Then, a quiet, “No.”
You turned your head slightly, just enough to glance back at him.
“You did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You literally just—”
“Shh,” he cut you off softly, pulling you closer again. “You’re gonna wake everyone up.”
You narrowed your eyes a little, but let it go—for now.
“…Fine.”
Another stretch of quiet settled between you.
Then—
“You’re still cold.”
You sighed. “I said I’m fine.”
“Yeah, well, you’re shivering, baby.”
That made you freeze.
“Okay, you definitely said that one.”
Travis let out a low groan, like he was already regretting everything.
“Can you not make it a thing?”
“It is a thing,” you whispered, trying not to laugh. “You’re being… soft.”
“I’m not.”
“You called me baby.”
“I said you’re cold.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
He shifted behind you, pressing his face lightly into your shoulder, hiding a little.
“Just… shut up and come here,” he muttered.
“I’m already here.”
“Closer.”
You smiled softly and listened, letting him pull you in even tighter, his arms wrapping more securely around you this time.
There it was again.
That quiet, unspoken thing between you.
You felt his breath against your neck, slower now, steadier.
“…You okay?” he asked after a minute, voice quieter this time.
The teasing was gone.
You hesitated, just for a second.
“Yeah,” you said softly.
His grip tightened.
“Don’t lie.”
You swallowed.
“I’m just… tired.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”
His hand found yours under the blanket, fingers lacing together in a way that felt almost careful.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, honey,” he said quietly.
That one hit different.
Not teasing.
Not accidental.
Intentional.
Your chest tightened, just a little.
“…You’re really bad at not being soft,” you whispered.
He huffed faintly.
“Only with you.”
You turned slightly in his arms, enough to face him this time. His eyes were half-lidded, tired, but focused on you in that quiet, steady way he had when everything else faded out.
“You don’t act like this with anyone else,” you said.
“I don’t want to,” he replied simply.
No hesitation.
No joke to cover it up.
Just the truth.
Your fingers tightened around his.
“…Okay.”
He studied your face for a second longer, like he was making sure you understood what he meant.
Then, softer, “Get some sleep, alright?”
You nodded a little.
“Only if you stop hogging the blanket.”
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
“No promises, baby.”
You rolled your eyes, but didn’t argue this time.
Instead, you tucked yourself back against him, letting your eyes fall shut as his arms settled around you again—warm, steady, grounding.
