#I could make a game of it and train her too!

[mariasont]

im obsessed with reid’s hands. He’s got gorgeous long fingers its just🫶🏻😩. Id like to request a fic/blurbs whichever you prefer, revolves around that.. maybe he knows the reader loves his hands (especially when he cradles her face-neck and hair pulling).. nothing too spicy tho.. if you dont mind. Love your fics sm🥹

Where Hands Lead - S.R

a/n: i am also a victim to being desperately obsessed with spencer's hands! guilty af! and thank u so much babes i appreicate the love and the request <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: established relationship, hand kink, spencer being a smug little shit, domestic fluff, teasing galore, just two cuties being ridiculously in love!

wc: 1.6k

Spencer Reid's hands were a marvel. You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment you noticed them--maybe it was the day you saw him fiddling with a pen during a team meeting, his fingers deftly spinning it like he'd been born doing it. Or maybe it was the time he'd held out a hand to help you up after you got knocked on your ass after rough case, his long fingers wrapping around yours, pulling you to his feet. Whatever the moment, the realization hit you like a freight train: Spencer's hands were distracting. 

Of course, you never said it out loud. Not at first. How do you casually tell your boyfriend that his hands are your newest fixation? You'd settled for sneaky glances, admiring the way his fingers moved over the keys of his computer or absentmindedly tapped against his thigh when he was lost in thought. 

You thought you were being subtle.

But Spencer was sharper than you gave him credit for... and you gave him a lot of credit.

It started with small things. The way he'd catch you staring and tilt his head slightly, curiosity painting his features. Or how his lips would quirk into the barest smile when he'd reach for something near you and your gaze lingered a second too long. He'd never said anything, but you had the nagging suspicion he was onto you.

Then came the day he decided to test his theory.

It had been a rare quiet evening at his apartment. The team's latest case had wrapped up earlier than expected, leaving you both with an unexpectedly free night. Spencer, ever the perfectionist, had insisted on cooking dinner. You'd agreed easily, not-so-secretly thrilled at the prospect of spending uninterrupted tie with him. He'd shooed you out of the kitchen when you tried to help, insisting that you relax while he handled everything.

You were setting the table when it started. Spencer reached over to hand you a glass, his fingers brushing against yours. You glanced at him quickly, hoping he hadn't noticed the way your breath caught.

He had.

Spencer's expression didn't give away much--just the faintest quirk of his lips as he turned back to the counter. He began chopping vegetables, his fingers expertly curling and flexing around the knife. The movement was smooth, precise, almost hypnotic, and before you knew it, your eyes were drawn to them again.

"Everything okay over there?" he asked casually, not looking up. His voice was innocent enough, sure, but there was a certain lilt to it that made your cheeks heat.

"Fine," you replied, probably too quickly, forcing your attention back to the table. You busied yourself with arranging the plates, trying to will away the warmth spreading through you. 

Spencer, however, wasn't finished with whatever game he seemed to be playing. As you moved past him to grab utensils, he shifted just enough for his hand to brush against the small of your back. The touch was so light it could have been accidental, but it lingered just a fraction too long to be dismissed entirely. The warmth of it sparked along your spine, making your pulse leap in a way you couldn't quite explain.

What was wrong with you today? He was your boyfriend, for crying out loud. Casual touches like this were normal--expected, even. And yet, every brush of his fingers seemed to unravel you more. You cast a quick glance up at him, trying to gauge if he'd noticed your reaction, but Spencer simply smiled, his expression innocent, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

You clenched the utensils in your hand, suddenly desperate to shake off this fixation before Spencer figured out what was going on. The last thing you needed was for him to think you were completely crazy--obsessed with something as specific as his hands. Surely, that wasn't normal. 

 By the time you finally sat down to eat, your nerves were fully frayed. Flustered didn't even begin to cover it. Spencer, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He moved with his usually calm efficiency, placing food on the table with a soft smile. As he handed you a serving spoon, his fingers brushed against yours once again--warm, gentle, and far too distracting. You lingered a second longer than necessary, and while he didn't say a word, the subtle upward twitch of his lips suggested he notice.

Determined to pull yourself together, you focused on your plate. Or at least, you tried. Every movement Spencer made seemed designed to draw your attention. The way his long fingers curled around his fork, deliberate and precise, made your breath hitch. His index finger tapped lightly against the side of his glass as he considered something. Even the simple act of wiping his mouth with his napkin--slow, measured, maddeningly deliberate--seemed orchestrated to unravel you.

When dinner ended, you were quick to rise, eager to clear the table and escape the tight coil of your own thoughts. But Spencer was quicker. Before you could take a single step, his hand caught your wrist, fingers curling around you with just enough pressure to stop you in your tracks.

"I'll take care of it," he said, thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist before letting go.

Normally, you would argue. He'd cooker dinner, after all--it was only fair that you clean up. But today left you rooted to the spot. You sank back into your chair, wordless, your gaze following him as he moved around the kitchen.

Spencer rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the lean muscle of his forearms, and your eyes betrayed you once again, drawn back to his hands. The way they worked was mesmerizing--graceful and efficient as he dried plates, stacked dishes, and wiped down the counters with practiced ease. 

Spencer must have felt your gaze because he glanced over his shoulder, lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. He didn't rush, taking his time as he finished tidying up. When he was done, he dried his hands on a dish towel, then set it aside before making his way back to you. His hands were empty now, but no less captivating.

Stopping in front of your chair, Spencer lowered himself to one knee, his eyes meeting yours. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Heat swelled to your face, mind scrambling for something--anything--coherent to say. "I--what?"

Spencer chuckled softly, his hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You're not as subtle as you think."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped you.

"Next time," he continued, his thumb moving to brush against your cheek, his touch featherlight, "just tell me. I'd hate for you to sit there suffering in silence."

"I... don't know what you mean."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Oh, is that right?"

You nodded quickly.

"So you wouldn't mind if I did this?" he murmured, reaching out to cup your cheeks with the utmost care.

The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, his thumb brushing slow, delicate arcs along your cheekbones. His fingers, long and steady, curled around the sides of your face, glueing you in place. Your breath hitched, the air between you thickening as your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. Words failed you, leaving only the rapid thrum of your heart.

"Or this?" he added, voice softer now, almost a whisper. His fingers slid upward, tangling in your hair with a sort of practiced ease that sent sparks racing along your legs. He tugged lightly, just enough to tilt your head and pull a soft, involuntary gasp from your lips. The gentle pressure was intoxicating, and you bit down on your bottom lip, completely undone.

"Spencer..." you managed, though it barely passed a whisper. His name trembled on your lips, a plea and a confession all at once.

"Or this?" he continued, one hand sliding down to rest on your thigh. His fingers curled just slightly. Your pulse quickened, a fluttering sound that betrayed just how completely he had you in his grasp. Spencer leaned in closer, expression smug, lips moving into a smile that left you breathless. 

"And what about this?" he added, voice dropped to a hushed murmur as his hand moved to tilt your chin upward. Before you could respond, his lips found yours. The kiss was slow, purposeful, and impossible to do anything but melt into. His hands moved back to cradle your face, fingers brushing against your jaw and the sensitive curve of your neck, their touch igniting a fire that spread through your entire body.

When he finally pulled away, you felt like all the air had been vacuumed from your lungs, cheeks flushed and heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could here it.

"Yeah, um," you stammered, the words tumbling out awkwardly as you struggled to regain your footing, "I don't think I mind... you could, uh, do it again if you wanted to."

Spencer's lips quirked into a slow, satisfied smile, his eyes sparkling. "Oh, is that so?"

He leaned in once more, capturing your lips in another kiss. This time, it was slower, unhurried, as if he were savoring every second. 

He leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, savoring the moment.

When he pulled back, hands still cradling your face, he chuckled softly. "You know lucky for you, if my hands are your favorite thing about me, I've got two of them and all the time in the world."

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[nmakii]

must be love

— you find sae’s phone opened, and you decide to snoop.

or; sae gets exposed for being a fake idgafer. this is too sappy. 2.7k words, this is my longest fic in my whole life… what life feels like as a girl who loves too much core

tags: @narcjsistx

— for rhi. love ya, partner.

‘she seems really eager to please,

but she has quite the backbone.’

you huff out in frustration. “ah!! ugh…” you scowl. sae raises his eyebrow. “my groupmate never started on her share of the work… ugh, now i have to cram it..!” you explain your sudden outburst. sae scoffs. “then tell your teacher or something. it’s not like i can do anything about it, im not your teacher.” he, quite obviously, points out. “wh… ugh, i’m gonna… i just— needed to let out my anger.” you groan, face planting and screaming into your textbook. and he hums in response. although he didn’t show it on his face, your outburst was quite out of character for the person he had grown to know. it was… weird, to say the least. and it had caused him to make a mental note not to anger you.

‘her generosity knows no bounds.’

“sae, this is for you. merry christmas!” you hand him a wrapped box. “hm..? i don’t take christmas gifts.” he bluntly states. “i haven’t gotten any gifts since i was 10 years old.” you scoff to yourself. “maybe that’s why you’ve always got that stick in your ass.” you tease. “excuse me?” he glares daggers at you. “aaaanyway! open it!” you shove the box into his hands. he looks at the box, and then at you, and he decides to open it. “new cleats.” he acknowledges. yes, mhm. these were indeed cleats..! “i didn’t need these, i was going to buy them myself.” he states.

“i know, you could probably buy them yourself. but, i thought i’d save you the hassle, y’know?” how thoughtful of you. he eyes the cleats up and down; it’s an expensive brand, but it’s worth the price for the quality. “…thanks.” he says, at last. he didn’t expect a gift from you, he doesn’t have one prepared for you. he’ll make sure to buy you something you’ll love later. “oh! hold on, i wanted to give you some other things ♪~” you fish a keychain and envelope out of your bag and hand it to him.

“…cinnamoroll..?” he questions. “it’s cute right? i thought you’d like it.” what an odd way of thinking… never once has he mentioned anything about cinnamoroll. but then again, it is pretty cute. “…well, i won’t say i hate it. thank you.” he thanks you as he eyes the envelope. “ah, don’t read it in front of me..! i got a bit sappy, it’s pretty. embarrassing…” you awkwardly laugh. “ah, got it.”

later that day, he opened the envelope. there was a letter; it had cute doodles all over. and, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel your affection radiating off the letter. it was… really sweet.

‘what a beautiful human being she is.’

itoshi sae is what you like to call a shy lover, if you were to put it kindly.

you know for a fact that he loves you, he just isn’t good at verbally expressing it. words of affection are too sappy for him. he prefers to show it through the thoughtfulness of his gifts, and the longing touches of his hands, which seem to never leave your’s.

you know he loves you. but, you can’t help but wish for him to say it more often.

it wasn’t many nights lately that the two of you would have a date night. with sae’s rigorous training schedule and endless interviews, the only thing he wants to do at night is to fall asleep beside you.

however, today was the end of the season. meaning, sae would have much more free-time for you.

with sae’s last game for the year completed in 0-4, the first thing he had to do was call you. even though you weren’t far away at all, sitting in the VIP lounge with the relatives and girlfriends of sae’s teammates.

“s/o?” he calls your attention. “mhm? congratulations on your win, babe! i knew you’d win.” you congratulate him. “they could barely keep the ball when they had it. is it really an achievement for me to have won this match?” he says, almost sassily. “pssh— alright. i get it, mr. ‘tepid.’.” you tease.

“don’t call me that.” he huffs. “stay where you are. i’ll go to you.” he commands. you hum in acknowledgment, and he hangs up.

he doesn’t keep you waiting too long before showing up. “there you are…” he sighs in relief, kissing you as his hands automatically find themselves on your body— one tangled in your hair, and the other resting on the curve of your spine.

once he finds the will in himself to finally pull away, he’s breathless.

he looks like he wants to say something, but he holds himself back, his fingers flowing through your hair. “…get ready for our date later tonight, yeah? formal wear.”

you nod, and his lips curl upward. “i’ll see you later.”

you decided to go all out, pull all the brakes. and when sae picks you up in his car, he can’t help thinking that you look like a dream. ‘are you sure you aren’t a model?’ he muses to himself. his heart twists, and the fat of his cheeks redden with affection. your hair flows like silk, and that glimmer in your eyes was once a star, handpicked from the skies, he’s sure of it.

everything about you encourages him to keep staring, but he manages to get ahold of himself. “…you…look beautiful.” is the only thing he can get himself to say. but, beautiful doesn’t seem to encapsulate it, not at all. it’s not even close. beautiful is only a fraction of what he thinks. “heh, you think so?” you ask. “yeah; beautiful.” he assures. “let’s go.” he says, barely turning his attention away from you as he turns to the road.

the drive to the restaurant is quiet, but sae’s mind is screaming at him. his eyes can’t stop moving back to take sneaky glances of you. he drinks up your beauty like a serpent, and he still hasn’t had his fill.

“…we’re here.” he pulls the shift into its’ brake. he gets out, and hands his keys to the valet boy— his words are inaudible through the car door, but he quickly finishes his conversation and moves to open your car door.

you take your first step out, and his hand immediately moves to help you out. god, you might be even prettier under the gleam of moonlight, shining like the pearl of the planet.

his arm moves and snakes around your waist, guiding you into the restaurant under the flash of paparazzi cameras. he grimaces at the loud, pitchy voices of news interviewers, begging for a comment; anything for a headline quote.

the gentle touch of his fingers tighten, as he silently encourages you to walk faster, and lose the crowd. the two of you hurry up, and dash into the restaurant, where you’re greeted with a dim candlelight, mahogany walls, and the rhythmic trumpet of jazz.

“welcome, mr. itoshi.” the receptionist greets. “your table for two is right this way.” she quickly guides the two of you into a secluded part of the restaurant, just like he’s always done as to make sure neither of you are spotted and harassed in public.

lamps hang on the walls, creating a romantic atmosphere. and the curved dark-brown leather booth couch perfectly complements the dark oak roundtable.

the date isn’t too different from the others. the two of you chat about anything that comes to mind. but, it’s actually more like it’s just you chattering on, and sae listening as he admires that excited grin on your face.

on the outside looking in, it’s obvious how he has heart eyes when he stares at you. he’s in a trance as he listens to the rich honeying sweetness of your voice; his finger traces the lines on the roundtable, wishing that it’d be the crinkles of your smile he’s tracing when he blinks and opens his eyes again.

his trance is broken though, when his phone rings. damn it, he forgot to put his phone on do not disturb… “something wrong?” you ask sae, and he takes his phone out of his pocket. “not sure. there shouldn’t be a problem, i cancelled everything for tonight. ugh… just a second, amor…” he remorsefully takes your hand in his as a silent gesture of apology. he took too long to pick up the phone, it already went out…

he opened his call app, and saw that it was from his publicist, dabadie. he groaned before picking up.

“sae! you didn’t mention that you’d be going out on a date today, your paparazzi shot is already all over social medias..!” he worriedly stammers. “i didn’t? well, whatever… it’s just a date photo anyway.” sae shrugs, speaking quietly to ensure that you don’t hear. “right— but… you know the internet… they might criticize you, and say that she’s distracting you from soccer…”

sae is about to correct him— he’s about to say that you aren’t distracting him from his career, but he holds back once he remembers that you’re right beside him, eagerly waiting for his attention to be back on you.

“i… have to speak to you for a second, im already outside the restaurant… the paparazzi didn’t censor out the location well enough either… so, the agency’s security car will follow you two home…” he adds on. sae sighs. “i have to speak to you too. i’ll meet you outside.” he hangs up. he huffs in exasperation and shallowly drops his phone, making it clatter on the table; the screen is left open on his call record. “im sorry, amor… i have to quickly take care of something, i’ll be back soon, i promise.” he kisses your hand.

“hmph, don’t worry. it’s dabadie, right? he’s always worried about something…” you laugh. of course you’d be understanding about it. you always understood. “heh, that he is.” he sasses before leaving the table.

…and you can’t help but notice that his phone is still open.

his phone is practically yelling at you, “check out what’s on me, s/o! check it out right now!”, and you simply can’t resist the temptation to!

first, you simply scroll around at his call record; nothing too interesting, it’s filled with calls from dabadie, and you. as well as occasional calls from his mom. how tepid, as sae would put it. you exit the app, and find his home screen wallpaper to be a picture he took of you; you’re looking out into the distance, the large castle of sleeping beauty in the background.

you smile to yourself at that cute photo, and move to his photos; it’s filled with photos of you, and almost none of him— not unless you were beside him. you scroll down to check out his older photos; they’re childhood pictures, only a few of them are with rin included.

…

…anyways, ‘what is in sae itoshi’s notes app?’, you ponder. you open his notes app.

‘things i want to eat: 1. omelette, 2. paella, 3. pesto pasta’

‘onitsuka tiger mexico - kill bill/grey, new balance 2002r - grey, asics gel NYC - oyster grey’

‘laundry’

‘i love you’

you laugh at the randomness of his notes, quickly scrolling through them. it’s true when they say that a boy’s notes is truly random.

but that last note catches your eye. it’s a pretty odd note that just says ‘i love you’ with no additional text. and, it makes you wonder.

sae’s an organized person, more or less. so, his notes must be filed too. and, you’re correct. there are three files; ‘lists’, ‘important documents’, and a file with your initial as its’ name.

the other two don’t seem as interesting, nor seem as mysterious. so, you click on the mysterious file.

and, the file is filled with everything about you; he’s written down your birthday (including the time…), your family members’ names, foods you like to eat when you aren’t feeling well, shows that you like to watch… everything.

and, there’s a note that catches your eye. it’s a cut-off sentence, since it was too long. you decide to feed your curiosity and click on the note.

‘she talks to everyone, even the people she doesn’t like.

it takes a lot to piss her off.

she’s always kind to me, after all.

she seems really eager to please, but she has quite the backbone.

she works really hard, but i don’t think many see it.

her generosity knows no bounds, and she always knows what kind of joke to make.

i didn’t think it was possible for a soul to be so beautiful.

nor, that someone like i would meet a soul like her’s.

but, im grateful to the stars above that i met her.

someone as kind as her deserves to receive all the love she gives.

i don’t think she knows how loved she really is though.

what a beautiful human being she is.

there simply isn’t enough words to describe the way her dimples crinkle when she’s happy.

the day she was conceived, the gods must’ve tenderly sculpted her heart out of ivory and gold.

the way she enamors everyone in the room simply by walking inside, and the way her personality shines in her rushed, yet sweet handwriting.

one day, i hope she’ll finally be perpetually happy.

so, that she can always shine that enchanting smile of her’s.

she deserves all of it.’

was this a poem..? it didn’t seem like it, it didn’t rhyme, and the stanzas didn’t have equal amounts of lines… but, the way he worded it out almost made it seem like he was a poet.

you don’t… even know what to think at such a romantic confession. it’s certainly much more than sae has ever verbally said to you. but, the fact that he had written this with you in mind makes your heart pound like crazy.

you’ve always known that sae loves you, but seeing his private thoughts all written out for you to read was… overwhelming.

“going through my texts, amor? i’m not texting any other woman besides you.” sae nonchalantly jokes. shit— time went quicker than you’d thought. “ah, nn… just got a bit curious, babe…” you hum. “what were you looking at..?” he asks, and his eyes widen the moment he sees what you were reading. out of all the things on his phone, that was the last thing he wanted you reading.

he embarrassedly closes his phone. “so… what was all that writing about..? were you trying to be a poet?” you jokingly ask; you knew that sae wasn’t mad, per say… he was probably just embarrassed. “n..no… it was, ah…” he clears his throat. “it was just… something i typed out when i realized i had many observations about you that i needed to write down. i just got sidetracked while i was typing.” he explains.

you smile, your entire body feeling like you’re on fire. the love you feel for sae itoshi feels like too much to contain in your heart. “it was really sweet, sae…” you assure him. for some reason, you have the odd incentive to just… cry right now. you love him so much.

“i know. but, it’s also too sappy.” he huffs. “aw, don’t be so shy… i know you’re just a huge softie under that tough surface…” you tease, moving closer to cuddle up to his side. “im not soft. i just love you, okay?” he groans. “don’t make me say embarrassing things.”

your smile widens, making him look at you with that lovesick look in his eyes. “aww… well, i guess i know how much you love me now anyway, so that’s good enough..!” you mentally fist pump at this small victory.

the atmosphere suddenly feels light again as you start to chatter again, teasing him slightly before going back to what you were speaking about before he had left. and still, sae’s looking at you like you’re the world cup trophy, like you’re all he’s dreamed of.

and sae thinks…

‘…you’ll know how sappy i can get when it’s our wedding day.’

but he should save that for another 5 years, or so.

[harumasa-wifey]

➹Happy New Year»———>

✖Asaba Harumasa x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slight spoilers of chap 5(nothing major) Not proofread

Category: fluff

Note:i was inspired by the new official art and wrote this I was supposed to post it last night but I fell asleep while writing,Sorry for the wait.i cannot picture the accurate spot of this pic but I saw one in game I'll post a pic of it later for reference!

“Meet me behind the cafe in lumina square”

This was the last text you had received from him as you left Random play after meeting with the siblings to return the movie you had rented and wishing them a happy New year in advance.

It was New year's eve and thankfully to the deputy chief you all were out and about today. No fighting hollows , No overload paperwork and some extra which asaba adds to you sneakily because he is too lazy to do them.You love him a lot but you wish sometimes he would Stop adding his paperwork on your desk. It can be a great hassle to finish them in time.

Lumina square always makes every New Year a grand one and a beautiful one to look forward to. You made your way to the metro station hurriedly taking the last train of the hour to the lumina square after talking with Nicole and the others in the cunning hares. The metro was full of people like the elderly, the people with their family, the young highschool students and the couples.

The thought of how this year went passes through your mind. The whole incident with the vision cooperation and the chase in the hollow was stressful. Although it hasn't been completely disposed of, you all can rest easy for the holidays. It was thanks to all of the background support everyone made it safely in the end.

Your thoughts came to an end as the mic on the train announced its stop , you got off the train heading out the metro station into the bustling city of New Eridu. There were lights everywhere and it was more crowded than usual, but there was still one place left to visit before you went to meet him.

Meeting the person you love on new year's eve without a gift doesn't sound right to you so here you are.Standing outside the shop while having second thoughts on what to get him. You had made up your mind to feed him some delicious sweets that are being sold around this time of year even though he likes the bitterness now and is not bothered by it.Having something sweet every once a while would definitely not harm him.

As you look around and yellowish star keychain catches your eye with a little Clover inside. There was something that attracted you to it, so without thinking further you had made the purchase and had it warped in a box.

And your next stop was The cafe.

You had made your way over to the cafe with a little pubsec bangboo to help you cross the road. You re-read his message and made your way to the back of the cafe.

There he was standing while leaning against the palisade while holding a small wrapped box in his hand, his attention over to you as he heard your footsteps coming closer.

“Well look who finally decided to grace me with their presence.Took you long enough”

He spoke with a gentle smile on his face as you rushed over to him.

“I am sorry! I was at the Sixth street when I got your message”

He chuckled at her worries about being late.

“Calm down baby, I was just teasing. No need to rush i just got in myself”

You could hear the crowd hushed as the first firework arched into the velvety night sky as he extended his hand holding the gift box his yellow eyes shining in the lights whispering in a soft tone.

“Happy new year”

Your instinct told you to go and hug him so that's what you did, wrapping your arms around his neck particularly throwing yourself over him not to worry he will always there to catch you.

“Happy new year asaba,may we be together in the next one too”

“Don't worry I'll live long” He said locking his lips with yours into a kiss.

[zenless-zideblog-zero]

There's something about the fact that Section 6, the Canonically strongest Faction in game, has a ton of problems and difficulties.

Asaba has a Terminal Illness with no cure that Specifically and actively hinders his ability to do his specific Job. He will straight up turn into an ethereal at some point, if he doesn't succumb to cardiac arrest or asphyxiate first because of it.

Yanagi has Oni blood in her Veins, and if she uses too much of the power available to her she's liable to become incredibly injured or just outright die because it's Hysterical Strength x1000. It also, seemingly has caused her eyes to become messed up, and can make her go blind at random.

Soukaku's older Sister died due to Illness or War (Likely a combination of both.) Her mental trauma causes her to always almost always feel the need to eat, to fill the parts of her heart that feel empty. (Also my Headcanon is that Oni Develop slower than humans - Soukaku, despite being "Older than Yanagi" is at a much lower level of Maturity in terms of lifespan and physical/mental development. So she's basically a child soldier.)

Miyabi Straight up fights demons. In her sword. And With her sword. She killed her own mother to save her from becoming an ethereal. She doesn't always understand what's socially acceptable to say in a given situation (Neurodivergent), when it's appropriate to correct someone (Neurodivergent), can't stand meetings and paperwork (That's Everyone, but Neurodivergent), Believes she only exists to do one thing, that she's only truly capable of doing one thing, or has to add the modifier of "Training" to do certain things (Very Neurodivergent) and will just disassociate in public when she begins focusing on her thoughts too much (INCREDIBLY Neurodivergent).

And we've seen people act 'Normal' and not suffer from diseases in ZZZ! Nicole is incredibly Socially and (Somewhat) Financially adept, Lycaon might struggle somewhat in casual social circumstances, but he's very much capable LITERALLY anywhere else, Anton's a bit of a meathead but he's incredibly kind and well meaning, Corin has Anxiety and Confidence issues but other than that she seems to be a fairly normal (Mentally) Sixteen year old. Ellen is straight up just a Highschooler! I could go to my local high school and find someone who acts pretty much exactly like her!

Yeah, every character has their quirks and opinions, some have traumas and issues, but Section Six is the only group you can point at anyone of them and say "That Person has something wrong with them" and no one can provide a strong counter argument (Because there's a difference between living one's best life, and living the best life they can.)

[mj0702]

What could've been

So this is a small one shot about BB not getting injured and how I imagined it would've gone... I hope you enjoy it and if you have any questions feel free to ask me anytime – it might take me a day or two to reply but please feel free to send in your asks

Lucy knew you would be the greatest player that ever set a foot on the pitch. She watched you grow up training with her. You could barely hold your balance but you were able to kick a ball. Lucy immediately saw the potential you had. You were a rough diamond. Every time you saw a ball you toddled over as quickly as you could falling over three or more times before getting there but the moment you were close enough you just kicked it away laughing happily toddling after it again. Your sister watched with pride how you developed through your kid years until City picked up on your talent. You were just short of your sixth birthday when City asked Lucy for a meeting. They told her they saw you kicking about with her after a game and kept an eye on you and they were very happy with what they saw. Your sister agreed quickly to bring you in one day for a trail training day. So you were 5 Years, 354 days and 7 hours old when Lucy pulled your first City jersey over your head. Even tho it was just a trainings jersey and it was two sizes too big for your small frame you and her sported the same proud look. Hers was more noticeable than yours but you copied her anyway. The girls you had to play with were older and bigger than you so your first session didn't go as well as Lucy hoped. You got pushed around a lot. Your body more on the ground than not and at one point your sister thought about pulling you out but Trainer told her to leave it. She was right – every time you got pushed over you stood back up running after the ball. You were a true Bronze. Competitive to no end. Tough – not only was it your name it was also your personality. One of the girls tackled you hard and it took you a moment longer to get up Lucy already on her way over when your new trainer stopped her

“You're worse than any soccer mom” your trainer rolled her eyes pulling Lucy back by her jacket

“That little.... girl... fouled my sister... hard... that should've been a yellow” your sister gestured upset towards the field

“We don't have cards here” Linda deadpanned

“Well... then start using them” Lucy said upset “... they have to learn at some point... start young... so they know what's going on”

“Lucy... I understand you're nervous...” your trainer started

“I'm not nervous” your sister interrupted defensive

“You are a wreck...” Linda rolled her eyes again “.... your sister is good... by far better than anyone I've seen so far... she'll come far... but you have to let her do it herself...”

“That's my baby sister out there” Lucy growled “... I will make sure that little.... …. girl.... won't ever set foot on a pitch again if she fouls my sister again”

“Well... that's not how it works around here” your trainer said calm “... stop being overbearing... y/n will learn to deal with fouls”

Spoiler alert – Lucy and you both dealt with fouls the same... not well at all. You were always the first in a Refs face while your sister preferred to get into players faces.

With 12 you were invited to train with the senior squad the first time. Again Lucy was proud her chest puffed out when her trainer informed her that you would join the squad next week to see how you could keep up. You whined the whole way home to Keira to keep Lucy in check because your sister was so embarrassing. Keira just chuckled and promised to do her best but you both knew that it was useless. Just like the first time your sister pulled your first senior jersey over your head smiling widely.

“Luuuuccyyyy” you whined ashamed

“What...” Lucy asked pulling the jersey over your head “... we have to keep the tradition going”

“I'm old enough to dress meself....” you tried to push her away but it was no use

“It's tradition...” your sister grumbled as she tried to duck away from flailing arms

“You can't keep doing that” you whined again “... it's embarrassing”

“I don't care...” Lucy huffed grabbing your arm trying to get it through the sleeve

“Lucyyy...” you whined pulling against her grip

“Stop it...” your sister grumbled

“Keiraaaaaa....” you cried out for help only get met with an amused looking face from your sister girlfriend

“Sorry Bits...” Keira smirked “... she told me she will do it no matter what and I sat the stakes high...”

“I'm abstaining something very important for you....” Lucy mumbled as she finally got you into the trainings shirt

“Jesus...” you groaned “... why would you tell me stuff like that?!”

“Because I love you” your sister grinned “... now come on... show em how good you are”

You were 15 years, 300 days and 15 hours old when you played your first WSL game. It was against Brighton and you came on for Alex Greenwood who looked like a proud mother when she jogged over sending you into your first game in the 73rd minute. Lucy made Alana swap positions so she was standing next to you playing centre back instead of right back and you realized pretty quickly that first – Lucy was shit as a centre back and secondly... you weren't a defender. Your runs pushed high into the midfield and together with Keira you created chance after chance for Hempo, White and Raso. Even for Georgia – the new girl. She was nice but you couldn't really say anything else about her. Except for that she idolizes your sister and tried to copy her as good as possible which you found weird. It was just Lucy... if that girl wanted to idolize someone, she should pick someone good and famous – like... Rapinoe, Sinclair, Renard or Marta. But not Lucy.

“Come on Bubs...” you heard Lucy yell “... head in the game!”

“I'm right next to you you daft goldfish” you shot back pulling a face

“Concentrate” your sister sneered

“We're up 4 – 0.... I could start my French lesson with Kari and it wouldn't make any difference” you started to argue and your sister saw you were bored out of your mind

“It's disrespectful” Lucy said now calmly “... I know you want the big games but you also need the experience first”

“Against Brighton??” you looked at her confused “... if I score a goal from here... can I play against Atletico?”

“No....” your sister shot down your idea “... you'll train and you'll learn and get minutes and experience and THEN you'll get minutes in the big games”

“Keira” you whined stomping your foot

“Kinda busy here Bits” Keira huffed trying to get the ball of an opponent player so you just sprinted towards them getting possession and just belted it away

“Now you’re not...” you said as a matter of fact “... Lucy is mean and I'm bored”

“Bitsy....” your “other mom” looked at you with a blank face “... you just scored”

“Yes, I know...” you shrugged your shoulders “... their defence was off the whole game... there was always enough space between the near post and the backline”

“YOU SCORED!!!” Georgia screamed as she jumped on your back

“And you get off me” you immediately threw her off again “... jumping on me back without knowing me... didn't your parents teach you any manners??”

“Sorry” Georgia mumbled looking like a kicked puppy

“Don't take it personal G...” Keira laughed “... she's grumpy because Lucy apparently said something she didn't like”

“I just thought it was a good goal” the young player mumbled ashamed

“Oh it was... but Bitsy is... special... right now that goal doesn't mean shit to her... she's hung up on her argument with her sister...” Keira squeezed her friends shoulder “... you'll learn that these two are different than other siblings”

“Great goal Bubs” Lucy ruffled your hair smiling “... you still won't start Atletico”

“You suck” you snapped stomping back to your position “... and you suck as a centre back!!”

“One day she'll play for the biggest clubs” your sister looked after you grinning widely

Lucy leaving for Lyon was hard on you. You got used to her presence on the pitch behind you. You got used to her having your back always offering you a hand pulling you back up when you ate grass again. Always being there when you stayed down a second too long. So her moving to France was hard. You understood – kinda. It was good for her career but not good for your head. Keira did what she could to maintain your daily routine as good as possible but alone the drive to the Academy send you into a frenzy most days. Nick noticed your play was off so he put you back on the bench at first and then back into the B-Team. This set you off even more up to the point where you got physically sick every time you needed to go to training. Keira gave Lucy regular updates even telling her that it got worse with you and she didn't know what to do anymore. Your sister your saviour and protector came back to Manchester the first chance she got with the plan to slap some sense into you but when she saw you like a heap of misery hunched over on the couch all her aggression about you throwing away a big chance like this flew out the window

“Bubs...” Lucy said softly not wanting to scare you

“Hm...” you looked up your eyes dull

“Oh Bubs...” your sister sighed pulling you up and against her holding you tightly “... what were you thinking Bubs?”

“You just left” you mumbled emotionless against her shoulder not hugging her back

“We talked about it Bubs...” Lucy kept her voice low “... you're all grown up now and you don't need me anymore...”

“I don't want you to leave” you started to sniffle

“It's okay Bubs...” your sister pressed a kiss to your temple “... I've got a few days off now...”

“Not days Luce...” you were silently crying now “... not leaving”

“It's my job Bubs... you'll understand one day” Lucy sighed noticing how light you became “... we'll get you back on track and then you'll join me in Lyon okay”

“Don't wanna go there” you sniffed

“It's amazing there Bubs... they have so many ways to train... you have to see their gym Bubs... it's like the holy grail...” your sister talked while she gently maneuvered you to the kitchen table “but now we'll get some food into you and then we'll get you to bed, hm?”

It took Lucy all of seven days until she got you to eat small portions again. They were small and even when just a bite too much had you sprinting to the toilet again she was happy with her accomplishment. Five small meals a day. That's what you agreed on – breakfast at 8, then at 11 again, Lunch at 1.30, another small meal at 4 and dinner latest at 7.30. Your sister knew how much you needed your daily routines and she drilled it into Keira to keep those routines. As much as Keira tried after Lucy left you fell into old habits again. Skipping meals, training and meetings. The blonde called your sister completely shattered how she can't watch you kill yourself. Again Lucy jumped on a plane flying back to Manchester. This time tho she went to her girlfriend first telling her that she couldn't have done it without her and whatever happened it's not Keiras fault. Keira cried into Lucys broad shoulder and in the end Lucy stayed the night reassuring her girlfriend over and over again how good she was. The next morning when your sister entered your home you were already gone and much to her annoyance nobody knew where to. It was late at night when Lucy heard the keys open the front door and you entered the house

“Nice for you to join us for Dinner” your sister deadpanned

“What... Mum and Dad called the cavalry to slap some sense into me?” you shot back your voice just as emotionless

“It was actually Keira...” Lucy kept her voice flat

“Hm.... the girlfriend” you hummed finally pulling your shoes off

“What happened to you?” your sister asked bluntly

“I'm growing up Luce... it happens to the best of us” you shrugged wandering over to the fridge looking inside to see your mother left you dinner but you weren't hungry so you just closed the door again

“You are doing fuck all” finally Lucy showed some emotion “... you're killing yourself”

“And in what universe do you care?” you shot back your voice getting louder as well

“That's not fair y/n... you KNOW I care...” your sister getting loud now too “... what the hell is going on with you lately?”

“Whatever” you rolled your eyes pushing past Lucy

“Oh no...” Lucy panted out a laugh “... you are NOT running from me”

“Fuck off Lucy” you sneered as your sister tried to grab your wrist

“Y/n Tough Bronze...” your sister sneered back just as hostile “... tell me NOW what's going on with you?”

“You don't care anyway... go back to France and leave me the fuck alone” you were now full on yelling turning to leave again

“You don't talk to me like that” Lucy yelled following you up the stairs

“What is going on here? It's past midnight” your mum appeared on the hallway

“She wouldn't leave me alone” you exclaimed upset pointing at Lucy

“She JUST came home Mum...” your sister explained “... I just want to know what's going on with her”

“Can you please yell at each other quieter?” your Mum rolled her eyes getting reminded at the situations she already lived through with Lucy and Sophie

“She can just leave me alone and I wouldn't have to say anything at all” you growled shoving Lucy hard who now stood next to you

“Just talk to me” Lucy begged “... I just want to help you”

“THEN GO BACK TO FRANCE AND FUCK OFF.....” you exploded “.... AND WHEN YOU'RE AT IT – PLEASE CRASH ON THE WAY THERE!!!”

Lucy and your Mum stood there frozen as you threw the door shut so hard that two pictures fell off the wall

“Bubs...” your sister looked at the closed door tears pooling in her eyes

“Lucy...” your Mum said softly “... she doesn't mean it... I promise... she's just going through a lot right now...”

“Why does she hate me?” Lucy asked her voice breaking

“She doesn't.... she's a teenager Lucy...” your Mum pulled her eldest daughter into a hug “... there's a lot of change going on lately and you know never was good with changes... Go to bed Love... try again later”

“I don't have time Mum...” your sister cried into her mothers shoulder “... I need to go back tonight”

“You'll find a way Lucy” your Mum kept her voice gentle “... you always did”

“Pack a bag” Lucy all but kicked down your door a few hours later

“What?” you asked sleepy not registering what's happening

“Pack... a... bag” your sister repeated while she opened your curtains “... you have an hour.... if you even think of running... I'm still faster then you”

“Go an fuck off Lucia” you now growled throwing the next best thing at her which was a glass that shattered at the wall behind your sister

“You're coming with me to Lyon” Lucy continued not even fazed by your hostile behaviour “... Mum okay-ed it, I can keep an eye on you and I'll make sure you'll be too tired to even think about fucking up”

“You can't just...” you exclaimed shocked

“Oh but I can...” your sister replied calmly “... 58 Minutes... if you're not done, I'll come back up and pull you out of your room meself”

“I hate you!” you yelled after her as she left you alone again

“I don't care” Lucy yelled back smirking to herself

“Welcome to France” your sister sing songed as you exit the plane

“It's dirty and it smells like a trash pit” you grumbled as Lucy threw her arm around your shoulders

“Stop being grumpy” Lucy chuckled

“I still hate you and I still wished we crashed” you growled

“Hm... yeah... sorry I couldn't help you with that...” your sister kept her voice light and her mood calm “... we're gonna pick up your luggage and then we'll drive to me flat... tomorrow at 8 we have to be at the trainings grounds and you'll come with me.... if you don't come willingly I'll force you”

“You can't...” you snapped

“I can... what you wanna do? Run away? Good luck... they don't speak english here... Book a flight back? Good luck again... you don't have the money and on top you need to be accompanied by an adult...” Lucy gave you a reality check “... oh an the longer you decide to be all twaty the longer you'll stay with me and train here...”

“First chance I get I'll end your career” you growl helplessly

“Come on Bubs...” Lucy yelled from behind you “... keep an eye on the other right winger”

“Well... for what are you there?” you turned around frustrated as Eugénie Le Sommer took the ball off you again

“To get you back in line” your sister smirked and you used a stray ball to belt it towards her missing her by inches

“Tu vas mieux” Wendi smiled ruffling your hair

“No idea what you said but... tu es nul aussi” you shrugged your shoulders making all the French players burst out laughing

“You getting gooder” Wendi laughed

“Gooder is not a word... frog leg” you grumbled

“Lucy... dis-lui qu'elle va bien” Eugénie laughed

“They say you're getting better Bubs...” Lucy smiled her chest puffed out proudly

“They could also learn english... no one speaks French in the world... everyone speaks english...” you grumbled as you started to dribble a little bit

“Stop being so grumpy all the time... they were nice enough to let me bring you here” your sister groaned

“Yeah well... I'm not here by choice” you huffed picking up with your foot volleying it towards the goal

“Bubs please...” Lucy rolled her eyes still haven't figured out what was going on with you

“Please what?” you snapped watching the ball hitting the back off the net

“Just talk to me” your sister said and everyone around slowly but surely stepped back giving you two some space

“What you wanna hear? How alone I felt when you left? How suddenly it wasn't fun anymore to play? How the whole team sucked when you weren't standing behind me anymore? How it feels to hear “... Lucy would do it this way... Lucy would've cleared that ball easily... Lucy was more alert... Lucy Lucy Lucy” all the damn time? How nothing made sense anymore?” it exploded out of you

“Breath” was everything Lucy said fixing you with a stare her hands grabbing your shoulders “Breath Bubs...”

You didn't even realize that you stopped breathing – you just had to get if off your chest. So when Lucy grabbed your shoulders you just shook your head not knowing how to react. Your sister sprang into action shaking you a little bit

“Breath” Lucy said firmly seeing how your face lost colour “Damnit BREATH Bubs”

THAT did the trick and you sucked in a deep breath

“Good... good Bubs” your sister said relieved “... another one... perfect... come on... deep breaths”

“I don't wanna play anymore” you whispered tears springing to your eyes

“If you really don't want to play anymore that's okay Bubs” Lucy pulled you against her hugging you tightly “... it would be a great loss for the football world but it would be okay”

“I don't want to play without you anymore” you started crying your sobs wrecking through your body

“I need to at the moment...” your sister whispered against your hair “... I want to play against you in the Champions League...”

“I don't want to play against you” you sobbed grabbing onto Lucys trainings shirt tightly

“You scared you'll lose?” Lucy chuckled “If you don't want to Bubs you don't have to... but you're so good... it would really be a loss to football”

“Can't I just play here with you?” you sniffed

“No...” your sister said gently “... City needs you... England needs you... KEIRA needs you”

“Keira has a new BFF... her names Georgia... strange girl” you hick uped

“She still needs her Bitsy more than you realize” Lucy kept her voice soft “... you're the only Bronze she has left... the other Bronze”

“I need you back home Lucy” you mumbled against her shoulder

“I'll be back for Camp soon...” your sister kissed your forehead “... I need you to get your shit together by then okay”

“Not for Camp Luce...” you looked at her your eyes red and puffy “... for forever”

“Soon Bubs... I promise” Lucy kissed your forehead again

“Don't be nervous Bits” Keira mumbled standing behind you in the tunnel

“How couldn't I be? I'm 15 and playing Champions League...” you mumbled back your whole body vibrating

“You are the best out there...” the blonde put her hand on your shoulder trying to ground you

“It's Lucy we're playing against” you took a shaky breath

“As soon as you step on that pitch she's not Lucy... she's the opponent you need to beat” Keira said her voice low knowing just how hard it was to convince yourself

“As if you could..” you started

“I have to... it's Champions League.. even to we'll get another chance I don't want to travel to Lyon having to chase down goals to get those three points”

“Got it... go out... tank them over Manc style” you mumble to yourself

“Exactly... show the world that you are the better Bronze Bitsy” Keira smiled seeing how your whole presence changed into game mode

“Come on Ref!!” you yelled upset as you picked yourself up again being the main target of Lyon “Can you PLEASE for the love of the Lord and Baby Jesus do your job??”

“Bitsy” Keira quickly jogged over pulling you back “... calm down... don't let them get to you”

“Easy for you to say... I was more on the ground that I was playing” you grumbled brushing some grass of your shorts

“Then use your brain to find a solution...” the blonde pressed a quick kiss to your temple and suddenly you had an idea and you quickly turned around

“Beattie” you yelled out running over to the Scott

“What you need F'anwylyd?” the Scott looks surprised

“Switch with me” you mumbled quickly so no one could hear you

“Scuse me?” the older player looked confused

“You go into midfield I hang back” you pressed knowing the whistle would holler any second

“Why?” Jennifer asked even more confused

“They're targeting me... when I'm in defence they don't have as much space but you'll have more space to move and get a play going” you explained pushing the Scott forward as the whistle was blown

“Good move Bubs” Lucy hugged you sideways as she walked next to you into the tunnel for half time

“Are you even allowed to speak to me?” you grumbled

“Just made you a compliment” your sister pulled a face at your mood

“Bronze...” you heard Keira holler and both of you looked up “... leave me teammate and go eat some frog legs”

“Uh... someone fucked up” you snickered seeing how Lucys face fell

“I'll unfuck it later” Lucy pushed you towards Keira offering a small smile which Keira mirrored

“I can't believe you scored that banger” Keira laughed loudly as you got bulldozed over by your teammates

You scored... at a Champions League game... at home... against Lyon... from the box – not Lyons box... your box. It was the last minute of the game and Karen told you to just belt it out of her box after there was a ruffle just in front of her goal and she lost sight of the ball for a split second. Lyon threw everything at City and you did what you've been told. Somehow the ball fell right in front of your feet and Karen yelled at you and so you just swung your leg back to then kick the ball full force down the field. Everyone followed the ball some in shock some in awe as the ball sailed down the pitch towards the opposite goal. Pauline was way off her line and when she saw which direction the ball went she sprinted back but came to late. The ball hit the back of the net as she just raced into her own box.

“I can't believe it either...” you shook your head “... Stanway get off me you pillock”

“You just scored the game winning goal” Georgia laughed loudly NOT getting off your back while Tooney decided to jump on your front

“That was a true Bronze goal” your best friend yelled her fist raised victoriously “Now no one can stop us lifting that ugly ass trophy”

Turns out someone could stop you – FC Barcelona. You made it to the semi finals when you put a foot on spanish soil. Immediately you decided you didn't like it here. It was warm and humid and warm and more humid and people didn't knew the concept of personal space. Two steps out of the plane you suddenly turned around running straight into Keira

“Woah Bits... where you wanna go?” the blonde asked amused

“Home...” you said courtly “... I don't like it here”

“It's beautiful Bits...” Keira smiled

“It's hot and humid and sticky and sunny and happy and disgusting” you grumbled

“Keep walking” the blonde laughed “... you won't go back home until after the game”

“I swear Kei if I get sunburned or a stroke I'll hold you accountable” you looked darkly at her

“Sure thing Bits...” Keira laughed pushing you forward again

“This is the last time I'll put a foot in that godforsaken country” you grumbled – it was not.

“Gooooood...” you groaned loudly “... I really hate it here”

“Why are you whining so much?” Georgia asked “This is the same facility the best players in the world train”

“Shut up Pillock” you snapped earning a warning look from Keira “It's too hot to move here”

“Our game is at 6.45 tomorrow Bits... it'll be cooler by then” Keira showed mercy and laid a cool towel over your head

“I hope it is... otherwise I'll hurt me ankle during warm up and stay in the air conditioned locker room” you grumble from under your towel

“Oh my god... that's Alexia Putellas and Jenni Hermoso” Tooney suddenly squeaked out seeing the two Barcelona players walking past the window

“Woo-hoo” you deadpanned “Two female people who are able to walk on their own... how special”

“Bitsy” Keira warned you “... stop being a tosser”

“They breath the same air as we... they're not special” you huffed

“You're unbelievable sometimes” the blonde rolled her eyes

“Stanway.... don't let her take the piss outta you” you yelled from the other side of the pitch sprinting after Alexia “.. you pillock!!!”

You were able to clear the ball just as Alexia was about to shoot throwing a dirty look at her AND Georgia

“Can't believe I have to defend too...” you huffed getting back up ignoring the hand Alexia offers you

Even tho the spanish player was a little upset you got the ball out of play before she could shoot she had to admit you were good. Far too good for her liking. So she offered you a hand to pull you back up which you ignored instead of walking past her grumbling under your breath.

“If you stand there any longer Ale you'll get roots” Jenni teased her girlfriend smirking

“This girl is so good... Jenni we need her in Barcelona” the blonde catalan answered watching as you stomped back down the field

“Well... if anyone can convince the high dogs to sign her it's you” the dark haired spaniard smiled “but now... Vamos... game isn't over Capi”

“Vale vale...” Alexia laughed as she saw Ona coming down the side line for the throw in “Keep an eye on her Jenni”

“She's too young for me” Jenni threw back but immediately drifted towards you marking you closely

“Excuse me...” you growled pushing past the large spaniard “... I can't see with your ass in me face”

“Lo siento...” the dark haired one looked perplex “.. no entiendo lo que dijiste”

“Yeah yeah whatever” you rolled your eye and suddenly sprinted forward intercepting the throw in successfully getting the ball back “... learn english if you want to have a conversation”

“This girl is a lot of work” Jenni said slightly out of breath catching up with Alexia at half time

“Tell me about it....” the blonde said “... she's everywhere and sees spaces no one else sees...”

“First time in a long time we really need to work... even Aitana looks lost” Jenni chuckled watching you as you pushed Tooney laughing

“I want her” Alexia simply said

“I feel replaced” the dark haired one looked at her girlfriend with a twinkle in her eye

“She's too young for YOU...” the blonde smirked “... not for me”

“She's not even legal...” Jenni pointed out

“And still she made you sweat” Alexia laughed

“Joder” you heard Alexia swear behind you making you smirk

“You're welcome” you smirked as you turned around already seeing Tooney flying towards you

“BANGER!!!” your best friend yelled as you caught her easily laughing at her antics “... you saw that spaniard... THAT'S how you score Champions League goals... four of you on her and she still scored”

“They don't understand you” you snorted “... you can call them twatheads and they would smile”

“They understood your banger” Tooney smiled as you put her back on the ground “... look at them”

“Don't get sloppy now Toons...” you warned “... they'll throw everything at us... they're not used to losing”

“Let them come...” your best friend matched your competitiveness “... we'll show em how it's done City style”

It was the last minute. The last minute that destroyed your dreams of lifting that “ugly ass” trophy. Of course it was Alexia Putellas from a distance. You saw that Georgia was getting tired and you couldn't blame her. The heat and humidity got to you too. On top of that you had Jenni Hermoso on you CONSTANTLY. That woman was a real pest. You saw how Georgia read Alexias move wrong getting to the right instead of the left leaving the blonde enough space to move around her. You knew that your backline was too far up to get to run into a trap so you mobilized your last power and sprinted down the pitch after Alexia. You tried to clear the ball again but the catalan learned quickly so she just stopped the ball and you slided right past her – and the ball. The second you sprung back up you saw the ball leaving her foot and you knew it was over. Barcelona celebrated that goal like it was the final and when you heard the whistle seconds after it you crouched down your head hung low

“You playing amazing” you heard someone next to you in broken english making you look up

“Not good enough” you sighed

“You making us ...” the woman made a running motion

“Run...” you offered

“Sí... run... you making us run mucho” the blonde smiled friendly

“Don't take offense in that Putellas...” you came back up “... but I really don't want to talk to you right now”

“Maybe... despacio?” Alexia looked lost

“What?” you shook your head confused

“Ehrm... slow?” the catalan asked hopefully

“Slow what?” you tried to make sense out of her

“Talk... slow?” the blonde asked a little insecure

“I no no talk you” you said like you were talking to an idiot underlining your words with gestures

“Por qué?” Alexia asked a little taken aback

“I presume that means why....” you took a breath “... look... I'm warm, sweaty and pissed off... your country is too warm and sunny for me liking... I lost a title in the last minute of the game and it was YOU who made me lose... so I no talking you”

“Eh...” the blonde was truly lost now looking at you like you were a ghost

“Ugh...” you threw your arms up “... KEIRA!!!”

“What's wrong Bits?” Keira came wandering over seeing how frustrated you were

“Make her go away...” you pointed at Alexia

“I taught you manners...” the blonde scolded you seeing how aggressively you pointed at the catalan

“I don't want to talk to her and she doesn't understand it because she's only speaking stupid spaniard” you got even mor frustrated

“Maybe she wants to congratulate you on a really good game?” Keira looked at you expectantly

“If it was a good game we'd be through to the final” you snapped now turning around leaving Keira and Alexia standing next to each other

“I'm sorry” Keira apologized to Alexia

“She good... amazing” the catalan said again not knowing what just happened

“She's hurt” the englishwoman said offering a smile “... but sí... she's amazing”

“I sorry no good ingles” Alexia apologized awkwardly

“No... your english is good...” Keira immediately shot down any insecurities the catalan could have had “... Bitsy is just.. Bitsy”

“You... maybe question her switch?” the catalan asked a little hopefully pulling a little on her jersey

“Of course...” the englishwoman smiled understanding immediately “... give me a minute... BITSY.... get your ass back here”

“NO” you yelled from the other side of the pitch talking to Tooney

“HERE.... NOW!!” Keira yelled and Alexia saw in awe how you start to trot towards Keira

“Alexia wants to swap Jerseys...” the englishwoman said giving you a warning look “... don't you dare throw a fit”

“I don't want her sweat dripping Jersey...” you looked a little disgusted

“Bitsy” Keira slapped the back of your head seeing how Alexias face fell again “If you continue to be a tosser I'll make sure to get that attitude out of you tomorrow morning 4.00”

“Doesn't she have like... a new one...” you asked carefully “... if not there are about a thousands fans here that have her jersey”

“One of the best players in the world wants your Jersey and you complain that it's a little sweaty?” Keira asks shocked

“You know I hate dirty stuff... I can't even put a plate in the sink without going back two minutes later to clean it up” you whine and for the first time Alexia saw you as the person you were

“Bitsy please... it took her a lot to ask so PLEASE....” the englishwoman said now softly knowing NOW where you were coming from

“Can you... new one?” you ask Alexia directly pointing at her jersey

“New one?” the catalan looked confused

“Yes... no sweat” you nodded hoping she understood you

“Sweat?” Alexia asked and you groaned

“Just do it Bits...” Keira nudged you gently

“But it's so sweaty...” you whined but pulled your Jersey over your head offering it to the catalan who quickly did the same with her jersey smiling widely

“You good looking at Blaugrana” Alexia smiled happily as you put her jersey on

“Don't get used to it...” you wave off “... that's gonna be the last time you'll see me wearing that”

It wasn't.

“Welcome back to Barcelona Cariño” Alexia smiled as you got out of the black Cupra

“Look at that... someone knows three more words in english” you grumbled “... for your and everyones Information... I'm not here by choice”

“I studied hard to make you feel more welcome” the catalan kept the smile on her face being told by Lucy before not to give into your current mood

“Yeah well... if your club wouldn't have made me club selling me and I would've had a CHOICE to be here I would feel SO welcomed” you growled keeping your distance to the blonde

“Cari... your club is Barcelona now” the blonde said softly

“It isn't... it'll never be...” you snapped “... I hated it here the last time and this time isn't any different”

“Your sister plays here...” Alexia pointed out “... didn't you want to play with her again? Keira joined too....”

“I got used to play without Lucy...” your voice dripping with venom “... let's get this over with... what do I have to do?”

“I'll show you around a little and then there will be a photoshoot” the blonde sighed seeing in your body language that there will be a lot of fight coming from your end

“Do I have to put on this god awful Jersey again?” you asked as you followed Alexia inside

“Yes...” she simply said as she pushed a door open “... this is our team room.... here you can come before training or stay afterwards... it's there so we all can come together and just spend time together – you are not obligated to come here I would advise it for starters... get to know the team”

“I don't need to get to know them... I know everything from them I need to know” you mumbled your mood not increasing

“Like what?” the catalan challenged you

“All their stats... passing rate... fitness... weaknesses....” you shrugged your shoulders

“That's what everyone can look up...” Alexia said gently “... I mean get to know the team personally”

“No interest in any personal stuff...” you grumbled “... I hope to get out of here by November”

“You signed a contract” the blonde pointed out

“No... I'm legally not allowed to sign contracts... my Parents signed the contract” you said as a matter of fact “... they sold me like a cheap whore”

“You really don't want to be here...” the catalan looked shocked and lost

“No I don't...” you huffed “... but don't worry... I'm professional enough to do my job... I'll be here for training... do my part at games – if I get playing time that is... and smile for pictures... other than that I just want my peace and quiet”

“Here at Barcelona we're familia...” Alexia started “... I understand that this transfer came as a surprise for you and that you had no say in it doesn't make it better... but we are familia and you are a part of that now too... give the team a chance... it's not their fault you got traded”

“Hm... interesting offer..” you thought about it for a second and Alexia really started to hope “... no”

“Okay... I can't do more then to tell you that you are familia now too...” the catalan huffed defeated “... this way to the locker rooms”

“How did it go Capi?” Lucy came to a halt next to Alexia who overlooked your photoshoot

“Not good” the blonde answered shortly

“I'm sorry...” your sister looked embarrassed

“She doesn't want to be her Lucy...” Alexia said not taking her eyes off you “... she's an emotional player and she plays so much better when her mind is at ease... but right now.. she's so angry...”

“City did her dirty Ale...” Lucy looked over to you seeing how the photographer tried to get a smile out of you “... she's hurting... I just beg you to not let her get to you.. you'll need a long breath but she's a good kid... I know it's gonna be hard but you'll need to stay calm with her and PLEASE don't let her rot on the bench”

“She's too good for the bench...” the catalan snorted “... but she's not ready to play a full game... she'll collapse...”

“She'll come around Capi I promise...” your sister said convinced “... Keira will help too... when she sees me and Keira interacting with the team she'll come around too”

“I hope so Lucy...” Alexia sighed “.... I really do hope so”

“Go back to england” you heard a fan yell towards you after your first game

“I wish I could!!!!!” you snapped back getting right into his face “You think I WANT to be here?”

“Woah Bubs...” Lucy was quickly to intercept grabbing you shoving you into Alexias arms signalling her to get you away

“What the hell?!” Alexia exploded once you were inside the tunnel

“Let go” you grunted fighting her tooth and nail

“No...” the catalan pushed you forward “... we're going to have a talk”

“In here” she pushed you into a meeting room “... what were you THINKING?!”

“I just said what I told you before” you snapped back at her “... I don't WANT to be here”

“Okay enough..” Alexia yelled and for the first time you were a little scared of her “... the team was nothing than welcoming to you... you fit into our playing style... you just played your first game and you were a game changer... I understand that you're still upset about the trade but you can't let them get to you like that”

“You... don't understand” you said your voice breaking

“Then tell me so I do” the blonde says softly seeing how you were near your breaking point

“I want to go home” it suddenly broke out of you tears streaming down your face “I want to go back to me friends and me Club...”

“Cariño...” Alexia said softly “... this is your Club now.. I understand that's difficult for you but Barcelona is your home now”

“I want to go back....” you cried standing in the middle of the room with Alexia a few feet away

“I promise this team wants to get to know you...” the blonde kept her voice gentle inching a little bit closer “... to us you already are familia... let them see how amazing you are”

“But I don't want to get to know them” you sniffled taking a the one step back that Alexia inched closer to you

“Cari... I understand this isn't what you wanted but let us help you... you need to accept that in near future nothing will change about your situation” Alexia spoke softly noticing how you still weren't ready to let her comfort you “... you ARE familia... you can be angry and fight everything or you can start to let us in and accept that we won't get off your back... we won't stop trying and we certainly won't leave you to fend for your own”

“But why?” you felt so uncomfortable

“You are familia” the catalan repeated again “You are my Cariño, Mapís Neña, Ingrids weird norwegian thing, Jenni refers to you as Pequeña and Ona calls you Bebita... you just doesn't want to hear it because you're so angry with this... but you are already shining but díos mio you could shine so mucho brighter”

“I just don't know how... all my life I played City Style...” you mumbled and this time you didn't move when Alexia came closer

“Just play Cari...” the blonde smiled carefully grabbing your hand letting her thumb caressing your knuckles “... just do what you love the most and the rest will come... oh... and stay away from Mapí, Piña and Patri... I have a feeling you four will give me a headache”

“I don't need them...” you huffed “.... I can headache you all by meself”

“Oh Cari” Alexia laughed loudly pulling you into a tight hug

“Mapí!!!!” you yelled sprinting down the side line Alexia hot on your heels

“I got you Neña...” the Zaragoza yelled throwing a filled water balloon at her best friend hitting Alexia square in the chest

“Uh oh...” Mapí looked horrified as the blonde catalan came to a sudden halt turning towards her

“Neña...” the tattooed spaniard stammered slowly walking backwards as Alexia made her way over “... NEÑAAAA!!!!”

“Run you spanner... RUN!!” you yelled turning on your heels running back to help Mapí so you decided to jump on Alexias back laughing loudly

“I TOLD you you two are NOT allowed to be unsupervised” the catalan grumbled yet still her hands came around securing you on her back so you wouldn't hurt yourself

“The grumpy norwegian was there” you laughed your arms hanging loosely around the blondes neck

“She has a name” Caro grumbled when she walked past flicking your ear

“Grumpy... see” you exclaimed trying to avoid another flick nearly brining Alexia down

“Stop it you little pest...” Alexia huffed trying to hold her balance with you wriggling on her back “... go annoy Jenni”

“But you are victim of the day” you pouted with Mapí nodding furiously behind Ingrid

“And you will be winner of extra laps in a second... go annoy someone else” the blonde set you back down

“But..” you started again

“Vamos... I have media to do...” Alexia pushed you away slightly smiling to herself when she heard you huff.

It took you around four month until you finally agreed to join the team for a dinner and Alexia decided to push you out of your comfort zone placing you between herself and Irene. Lucy wasn't happy about it fussing over you the entire time you were still closed off pulling back every time one of the other players reached out to you. Now no one could ever imagine that you once were a lone wolf. Just as Alexia predicted you hit it off with Mapí, Piña and Patri – much to the Captains dismay. All three Captains. Jenni always sweared hell and poison on the frustrating four when she was on the receiving end of your pranks

“Jenni already left” you pouted holding onto Alexias trainings jersey

“Then annoy your sister” the blonde waved off

“Ay!!!” Lucy exclaimed from the other side of the pitch looking shocked

“Lucy!!!” you yelled and immediately you and Mapí took off towards her

“No no no no no no no” your sister waved her hands panicked not knowing where to go – so she did what she thought was best... she grabbed Ona pulling the small spaniard in front of her using her as a human shield

“Atureu-vos!!” Ona strictly said giving you and Mapí are warning glare making you halt in your movement Mapí running into your back pushing you forward nearly into Ona

“Are you serious?” the smaller spaniard turned around looking at her girlfriend “A re you really using me to stop YOUR sister?”

“They are scared of you” Lucy shrugged her shoulders embarrassed smiling apologetic

“Unbelievable” Ona rolled her eyes shooing the two of you away “Trobeu algú més”

“What she saying?” you looked confused at Mapí

“She's a not fun person” Mapí grumbled pulling you away “That what she's saying”

“I knew that already...” you huffed letting the tattooed spaniard pull you forward “... she always brings home these fin things... and then leaves them laying around in the kitchen”

“You would benefit from eating fish from time to time as well Bebita” the small spaniard yelled after you “.... now to you”

“I... love you??” Lucy smiled hopefully knowing she was in deep shit

It was safe to say you finally found your place. In a country that was still too hot for your liking. With a team that included 75% lunatics. With a playing style you needed to get used too. But you fit in. Alexia took you under her wing staying after trainings when she noticed you hid a ball from the staff to train on your own. The blonde watched you working on your technique, speed and stamina. She left you to sort your problems out on your own before stepping back on the pitch offering help and sometimes a shoulder to cry on when you got overwhelmed or frustrated.

Jenni took it upon herself to shield and protect you from the world. Whenever someone came to close and she saw how uncomfortable you got she pushed herself between you and the offending person. She also pushed herself between you and some fans when you lost your temper starting to argue with them. Most of the time you climbed on the lanky spaniards back to continue to argue just from a higher point. Jenni was one of the few people who was allowed to carry you when you fell asleep on the bus after a game or to the way to one.

Irene mothered you like she mothered Mateo. She always made sure you drank enough – not sugary stuff tho – eat properly and got enough sleep. When you were extremly grumpy and close to a tantrum she'll be the one putting her foot down sending you to your hotel room without dessert to later pay you a visit talking it out. At one point she even made sure that she packed a spare kit for you since you've been known to not be the cleanest eater. The amount of times the poor kit woman had to try to get tomato sauce out of your clothes were uncounterable. So Irene took over the task to have everything ready if needed. Including the cereal bars you absolutely loved but made the nutrition coach get a stroke.

Ingrid was the one who always managed to calm you down. You were young and hot headed and while you got quite good holding in your temper if the other players prodded you once to often you just exploded in their faces. So everyone looked at Ingrid to retrieve you and calm you down. The natural calmness of the norwegian made it hard for you to keep fuelling your fire. Ingrid just kept her hand lightly on the back of your neck and instantly you calmed down.

Frido was the fun Aunt who bought you everything you asked for and even stuff you didn't ask for. That's how you ended up with a motocross bike for your 18th birthday much to the horror of Keira, Ona, Alexia, Irene and obviously your Mum. Lucy and Jenni already debated who could have the bike on what day of the week until Ona and Alexia put a firm stop on their discussion confiscating the keys immediately. Frido had to hand out her credit card to Alexia until she thought of a more useful less dangerous present. So Frido got you a car with the argument less dangerous since more metal around you. This time Irene fished the Keys out of your hand telling you you'd get them back once you passed your drivers license and showed them you were a good driver. The swede just rolled her eyes at the adults calling them spoilsports earning herself five extra laps.

Aitana was your go-to for quietness. The quiet spaniard never bothered you or minded your presence and sometimes this was just what you needed. You also made it to your personal goal to teach her proper english after you heard her ask a fan if they “work or no work”. You had a coronary.... right there. Aitana taught you catalan. You asked her to keep it a secret until you were fluent enough to join a conversation throwing half the team off. The brown haired spaniard agreed smirking evilly when you out of the blue joined a conversation between Alexia and Ona giving your two cents before casually walking down the tunnel towards the locker rooms leaving the two dumb folded.

And then there were Mapí, Piña and Patri. Together with you the team called you the “frustrating four” since when you four were together in one place it'll frustrate the adults to no end trying to figure out what prank you'll come up with next. Or get frustrated by your pranks. The three women were your saviour. Mapí might be small and appeared to be easy going but in reality she loved you like a sister and fought every one who said a bad word against you. Piña was the one who poked you to do something that would get the four of you in immense trouble but she knew you were the one having a special stand with Alexia and Irene so your punishment would be lighter. Patri was the one always cheering you on. No matter if it was on or off the pitch. Whenever you needed a cheerleader you knew Patri was there. She made you run faster, jump higher, shoot harder. She also made you run faster when Alexia was on your heels again.

All of them got to witness how you grew from the angry unhappy girl to the mostly grown up focused young woman. That's why Alexia – La Reina de Barcelona – waited to lift the Champions League trophy until you were next to her when you won your first ever title. You were the first who lifted the trophy (the ugly ass trophy which Tooney pointed out several times next camp) after your Captain even before Irene and Jenni did. And just as your team celebrated, singing loudly you tip toed away finding the person you grew to like very much over the past year. You knocked on the visitors locker room door nervously and asked for the woman who came out and you saw how much the loss took a toll on her

“Here to gloat your victory around?” the woman asked her shoulders hung low

“No... here to win again” you grinned taking her face into your hands kissing her softly

“I knew you liked me all those years” the blonde grinned once the kiss ended

“Pillock” you snorted as you felt her hand grab the back of your neck pulling you in for another kiss

[keelt9]

DAHLIA

Masterlist

I slowly entered Joe's room while he’s still fully asleep, laid down at his left. I carefully light on the candle trying to make any sound, emphasis in trying because the lighter makes so much noise that Joe opens his eyes slowly.

“No.” I whisper but it’s useless. Joe is awake. “No, sleep, please.” I try to cover his eyes, making him giggle.

Joe grabs my hand over his eyes with a smirk on his face. “Ok, I can do that.” 

He pretends to fall asleep but inevitably laughs one second later. “Enough?”

I roll my eyes. “We can say that.” 

He opens his eyes, blinking, realizing on my other hand I had a small cake with a candle of Ness, his character from Super Mario.

“Happy birthday.” Joe laughs sitting on the bed.

“What is this?” It’s a small cake I made earlier in the morning trying to mute any sound of the kitchen, without counting the sound of the lighter. “This is great.”

He points to the candle. “Well, blow it up or it melted completely.”

Joe closes his eyes blowing the candle, making a wish.

“A good wish?” Joe nods, taking a small bite of his cake.

“Sorry, but if I tell you, it won't make it true.” Joe observes narrowing his eyes. “You have something on your face.”

“Where?” Joe approaches, catching my upper lip in a kiss. 

“Butter cream.” He licks his lips. “Yeah, it tastes really good.” 

I blink speechless as I grab my heated face with my free hand, hot like a bonfire.

“Let me try again.” He tries to kiss me one more time, my useless attempt to avoid it, ends in him grabbing the cake quickly, putting on the night table beside him with me under him on his bed.

Take a little bit of the buttercream putting on my lips, kissing me as he grabs my neck.

“Yeah, really good.” I giggle, giving him a small peck.

The sound of his alarm distracts us; Joe knows he must get ready for training.

“Save it for the bell.” He stands taking another bite of his cake. 

I sit watching him with dazzling eyes, as he goes to his closet.

“Guys are preparing a small dinner for my birthday, would you like to come?” I hissed. I met a few of his friends in casual conversation, this is another step.

“I have to travel home tonight.” Joe smiles leaning to me, grabbing his pink hoodie for don't fall over my face.

“I know, I know, it's my last attempt.” He kissed my forehead.

“Sorry.” I stand giving him a hug. “Happy birthday Joe.”

Although it is Joe's birthday; tomorrow it's my grandmother's birthday too, all the family are gathering to celebrate her. 85 years old is a big number. 

“Are you planning to come back before Christmas?” Joe starts to put all he could need inside of his bag. “You work for a place here, you know, it will be…”

“I'll try, I'm not promising anything, besides I've always been working remotely.” He laughs going to change his clothes.

“Before I forget.” He takes a paper bag. “Let's consider it as a previous Christmas gift.”

I opened the bag, a Bengal shirt with the number 9 on it.

I roll my eyes. “You don't have to look for it anymore, failing in the attempt.”

However, in the corner I notice something unusual next to his number. 

“Wait, wait, what is this?” I lift the shirt, pointing to the tiny orange heart, next to the big white 9.

Joe pretends looking at his phone. “I'm going late, let's go for breakfast.”

He pulls me from my hand going downstairs, giggling as a kid.

Before Christmas I had a special present for Joe. 

I got to be in Cincinnati a couple of days ago, however it is the second week they’re in a game out of home. Right now they're in Seattle after a bad loss, with a defense that has been imperceptible.

Joe seems disturbed in the press conference, still he texts me, hoping to arrive on time before I take my flight home.

He thinks I'll leave tonight to be on time and help my family before travelling to spend Christmas with my mother's mother.

“This is the last one.” Jason brings the last tray of food.

As Lilian sits on a chair. “I feel I could be arrested in any minute.”

I chuckle as I set in their place the last mistletoe.

“Ready!” I smile seeing around all the arrangements, happy with how everything is settled. “Now let's go, that I don't have so much time.”

I push them to the door not before taking the last look, it's perfect.

After a quick shower and changing my clothes, I just left myself enough time to drive back before Joe arrives from Seattle.

All should be according to the plan with my “little” helpers. 

And it was, as I kept waiting for a couple well-known voices, that I heard at the entrance.

“Come on guys, this could wait.” Joe complains. “Y/N leaves tonight, I haven't seen her in weeks, and I really want to say goodbye to her.”

“Joe, this mustn't wait, it's urgent.” Tee said, even though he sounds tired, his voice is cheerful.

I heard them opening the crystal door of the training camp, but I know they just make sure Joe gets inside before leaving.

“The lights aren't even turned on!” Joe screams as I light on.

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve!” Joe blinks, getting used to the lights. 

When he does he smiles brightly tilting his head when he sees me in a green velvet dress and an elf hat..

“What is this?” He walks to me to hug me. “This is pretty amazing!”

I smile as I surround him with my arms. “And I make dinner.” I think for a second. “Sorry, we made dinner.”

“We?” Joe split, noticing the dinner set in a small table behind me.

“Lilian, Jason and me.” Joe grabs my hand as we walk close to the table.

“How did you get in?” Joe looks around seeing the Christmas lights hanging around a small area.

I pretend thinking. “You have good friends willing to help.” 

Tee, Ja’Marr and BJ helped me to convince Zac to intercede for me and get a special permission. 

“Should we?” Joe says with a bloated eyes but a side to side smile.

“Yeah of course.” I give him a small peek in his cheek.

The dinner is delicious, you can see it for the way Joe barely speaks until we finished.

“Delicious.” He cleaned the corner of his mouth. 

“Big thanks to my mom.” She guided us through all the cooking processes. 

Joe put his elbows over the table. “Why here?”

I scoff rolling my eyes. “Joe, do you know how many security cameras you have in your house?” 

He laughs. “A few.”

“A few, yeah, a few.” I take out a box under my chair. “Here.”

Joe giggles, his hands on his hair.

“What is this?” I smile seeing his cheek in a soft pink.

I tremble with fingers on the top of the box. “Don't get too excited, ok? It’s not a fancy thing.”

Joe clicks his tongue. “Damn.” For after, wink at me.

“Open it.” I smirk as he takes the upper part, tiling his head confused.

“I'm lost.” He takes another small box with twelve candles, small white candles.

I point to the box with the candles. “One candle, one wish. Simple as that.”

Joe and his rich laugh is music to my ears. 

“Can I begin?” Joe opened the box taking out one. 

“Now?” I cough for the surprise.

“Yeah now.” He digs in the big box and finds the matches. “I'm supposed to write on this.” 

He takes the small piece of paper tied to the candle and the pen, I nod. “If there is something I can help, let me know.” 

Joe smiles. “One more time, how many candles are there?” He keeps writing.

“Twelve.” He folded the small paper and carefully burned it.

“Then you owe me eleven wishes.” He winks at me, but I just point the ashes on the table. “Don’t worry, this is for me, to myself.”

I lean on the table giving him a small peck on his lips.

“Merry Christmas and happy new year Joe.” He has that naughty smile on his lips. 

He caresses my cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

On Christmas Day Joe made sure to send me a photo of the second candle with his wish written on it.

 >Eat well and keep healthy.

Like every year we spend Christmas in Buffalo, this year the cold and the snow are at their top.

Streets are covered in white, you need 3 minutes outside to be covered in a white cold veil. 

“So, darling, your mother and Collin said you've been quite happy, these months.” Grandma said as she took out the special cake that Collin loved from the oven. “A special reason?”

I finished cutting the last strawberries she will use for decorating. “It’s not a reason, grandma, it’s a person.”

Bad time to eat a strawberry that almost killed me. “A QB.” 

Grandma softly patted my back giggling. “There is a reason why Colin must be far away from wine, he tends to speak way too much.”

I take a sip of water thinking of a way to punish him as soon as he appears at the door.

“Ye…Yes. But, we’re just hanging around, dating, seeing how things work, it could be just a…” Grandma tilts her head as he takes out all the things she will need. 

“Darling, darling, how many times have I told you about your Grandfather and me?” She has that face of utter love.

They met in middle school, after grandpa helped her to hide from her friends in what seemed like a cringe double date; breaking his glasses on the way, for crashing with him as she covered her face walking outside the school.

“It’s not the same.” Grandma raises her hand so she can keep talking. 

“I fell in love with that guy with clear vision problems in less than 3 months, now look at us, happily married after 47 years.” She smiles proudly with a voice full of adoration.

The loud hit on the door with laughs from grandpa and Collin, makes her roll her eyes. 

“Sorry! We bought it!” Collin appears in the kitchen sweating covered in snow as dad and mom carry the boxes inside of the house.

“You didn’t go for a box of chocolate bars?” I asked Collin as he drank all my water.

“It's supposed to be! But Grandpa saw the discounts and said we’ll buy a few.” He makes quotation marks with his hands. “He bought one box; for you, one for me and one for mom and dad.”

“Collin!” Mom shouted for him from the door. 

He leans his head on my shoulder. “Did I mention their friends?.” He takes a deep breath. “Walking a meter on the snow it's like walking three miles.” 

His breathing is fast even you can see a big smile on his face. “I’m coming!”

He runs to the door leaving a trace of snow from the kitchen to the main door.

“See, how not falling in love with him?” Grandma smiles and grabs my hand. “What I am saying is, when the feelings are real time it doesn't matter; what you feel here.” She pointed to my heart. “And here.” Then to my head. “It’s the most important.”

I see Grandpa entering with three chocolates bars, one for grandma, one for me and one for him, kissing her head. 

“For you.” Grandpa takes out a dahlia from his coat. 

We came back just in time for I could see the last game of the year from the Bengals, a wonderful defense even though the offense was a little bit imprecise, work for getting them to keep the win in their home.

But for Joe that wasn’t enough, you can see for the twisted lips at the end of the press conference. 

“You’ll have a full week to make an adjustment. Don’t be so hard on you.” I called Joe when he texts me he’s in his home. 

Joe nods and as he leans on the couch, nodding avoiding my eyes through the video call. 

“Joe?” He sighs and sees the camera nod one more time. “Now, please, stop pulling your fingers.”

He giggles. “I’m tired, sorry.” He put his hand on his neck moving around his head.

“It’s ok, go and rest, I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?” I stand on my bed wanting so badly to be with him but he needs a little bit of space.

“What a way of ending the year with me, huh?” I scoff as he gets down his head, pulling his finger one more time.

“It couldn’t be better.” He saw the camera with a surprise expression. “I mean it.”

The knock on my door as Collin stays in the door distracted me. 

He scrunched his face when he noticed I’m on a call. “Sorry Y/N, but it’s time.”

I nod, tonight one of my father's best friends invited us for a last dinner before New year.

I smile at Collin before he goes out of my room. “Well, time to go, too.”

I stand on the bed, ready to hang out the video call, searching for my coat.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second, let me see you.” Joe takes his phone like he could see it more in detail.

Switching the camera in front of my mirror Joe can see me; wearing a cute black dress, a Christmas present of Lilian.

“No way.” I can see Joe hiding his face on a pillow. “You look… whoa.” 

Feeling shy and adored, that’s all I can say.

“Y/N! We’re going late!” Dad passed in front of my room screaming. 

Joe mumbled a couple of things that I couldn’t hear. “Sorry, text you later, bye.”

As we get in the car Joe sends a photo with the third candle and the note.

 >See you in person. ❤️

Even though both of us knew we couldn't see each other before new year, it was still a little bittersweet situation. We have to settle with a quick call at midnight, under the mischievous eyes of my family observing me through the crystal door of the backyard. 

Next morning all of us wake up really late, with the appearance we just sleep one hour; by the time I get down to the kitchen dad is making coffee with his PJs on.

“Mom?” I take four cups from the counter regretting leaving my sweater on my bed.

“Trying to stay awake.” Both of us laugh, that laugh increases when Collin enters, messy hair closing his eyes as he hits the door of the kitchen. 

He put his hand over his forehead. “We should change that for a normal door, let’s get rid of the crystal door.”

Dad served three cups of coffee observing us sitting on the stool, with a smirk on his face. “Serving coffee, years ago, milk and cereal.”

“Dad!” Collin rolls his eyes. “It’s the first day of the new year, let’s not be sentimental.”

I push his arm. “Speak to the big, not sentimental boy.”

Collin cried yesterday, probably drunk as he remembered in a few months he will be far away from home.

“Whatever, Y/N, do you mind going to your grandparents' greenhouse?” Dad asked to take things for breakfast.

“Sure.” 

My grandparents have a greenhouse in the boundary of the city. We spent a lot of time during our childhood; they had an amazing place where Collin and I passed such beautiful moments.

He was learning and helping, I was just observing and paying attention to the details, notebooks on my lap, taking notes.

I arrived around 7 pm, all the lights, most of them turned off.

I knocked before getting in, just the lights of the main office turned on, they left a small note.

 >We're in the one next to the big three.

I perk through the window seeing all the lights there on, I smirk, they love that place for sure.

As I walk the cold wind makes me shiver, but I notice something weird; the cold lights of always now are in warm lights.

“What are you do…” My words stuck in my mouth when I saw the lights coming from the back of the greenhouse.

As I walk in, small bouquets of flowers are situated along the main corridor, I narrow my eyes taking in one, it took me a couple of seconds realizing the bouquets are conformed of heartseases, opium poppies, bignonias and marigolds.

As I keep walking, I realize the back curtain is slightly open; the warm light coming from that spot, so I removed it carefully. 

He is there. 

Joe is standing surrounded by flowers and Christmas lights.

“Happy new year.” He smirks, extending his arms. 

Raising my hands full of bouquets he rolls his eyes. 

“I don't think about that.” Both of us laughed as I gave him an attempt to hug.

“That's why you've been so quiet these days, huh?” Joe barely replay one text, my eyes seeing lights all over the place, I understand why.

“Such nice people are your grandparents” I see a small table where I can leave all the bouquets. “And Collin that helps a lot too.”

That explains why my grandparents didn't call right away as they saw or heard Joe Burrow. “I couldn't make the dinner, I owe you that.”

“I feel lucky enough, I imagine you have been locked in the building since the very first hours of the day.” I put all my bouquets so I can have my arms free.

“Ha ha ha, so funny.” Joe clicks his tongue. “Come here please, I need your help.”

“Another wish? I can do that.” Joe narrows his eyes. “I'm in a row, 2 of 2.”

“That confident?” Joe nods.

I touch my jacket. “I'm healthy and warm and you already saw me.” 

“I mean wearing that black dress.” Tilting my head Joe bit his lips.

“Believe me Joe, you have to work a little bit harder to see that dress.” I know I pinch his pride for the way he pouts.

“Sounds like a bet. I like that.” He shakes his head and focuses one more time. 

Turning around he takes a small box. “You should light one candle, you know?”

“Omg, could you just open it?” I laughed, enjoying seeing him so exasperated.

I take the lid and see a small crystal ball, I scoff, imagine another flower, to my surprise it's just the small paper of the candle inside of it. 

“What is this? Should I break it?” Joe chuckles, twisting around the ball to open it. 

I unfold it, the number five in the corner.

 >Please say yes.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Joe asked, making my eyes focus on his face. 

My heart is beating fast enough to cloud any coherent answer.

“I know you probably think this isn't a serious thing, but for me this is so real, we just met for a short time, and… you have been a breath of fresh air every time I see you.” Joe scratches his chin. “I love flowers isn't a secret… you know what Ja’Marr asked me when a month passed since I met you?”

I shake my head. “Joe, how many flowers do you need?” Joe takes my hands one more. “My house was full of flowers, a bouquet in every corner, still, it takes me a lot to reach this point.”

“Joe… I… It's…” Dammit I can't form a phrase.

Joe squeezed my hand smiling at me. “Tak..”

“Where are the fourth and fifth candles?” I hit my temple on my mind. Really that's my answer?

Joe looks to his right at a small table, two candles are burning slowly with a gold glow.

“My fourth wish is please that I don’t shutter so much as I speak.” I cover my face with the crystal ball as I whisper. “What? I don't understand you.” 

“Oh my. Yes!” Joe takes the ball off my face. “Yes, yes, yes! A thousand times yes.” 

I jumped to hug him, he quickly lifted me from the ground, kissing me.

“No, no, put me down.” He raised his eyebrows. “I want to have a healthy QB to hug when you win the championship.”

“You're so...” I shut him down, kissing him tenderly. 

“I guess I have to rush all my preparations” My useless attempt to go down failed one more time.

“Rush?” I side eye to him as I notice dahlia between the small lights, so accurate, after all we are making a compromise.

I surround his neck with my arms. “I was thinking of moving to Cincinnati after summer.”

His eyes move from my lips to my eyes. “Now probably, just probably think of doing it sooner.”

Joe cleared his throat. “You know if you need a place to stay, I can make you a space in my house.” 

I give him a small peck, feeling his grip on my thighs trembling, not for the lack of strength just because he's trembling.

“Mhm, what about for quite a long time? I don't want to be the third wheel with Lilian.” Joe laughs, his rich laugh.

“Right, that will be awkward.” He fakes thinking. “Are you a good roommate?” 

I hit his chest softly. “You won't have any complaints.” 

One more kiss, this time more saccharine and consuming; I understand now what Lilian said, it's like we built a world just for us.

“I love to have you with me.” Joe smiles right to my lips.

I kiss his forehead. “Deal.” 

What a way of beginning the year, after all Mr. McNeil has right after all, love comes right through our door

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Omg, I just took a more detailed view to the full series and I’m blown away by the response. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed from the very first flower until the last. 🌸

I’m preparing something… special? or at least that's what I believe, anyway, wait for it! 

I’ll write to you soon!🍒

[meazalykov]

livestream

jule brand x gamer!reader

summary: a mistake will force the both of you to admit something.

the familiar hum of your dual monitors fills the room as you settle into your gaming chair, adjusting your headset and taking a sip of water. 

your fingers tap against the desk rhythmically, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling inside you as the stream countdown ends. the chat is already alive, scrolling at a speed that’s hard to keep up with. you catch glimpses of messages—“hi y/n!”  “top streamer is back (kai wishes)”—and giggle to yourself. 

your audience is loyal, supportive, and somehow manages to make you feel connected even though you’ve been living halfway across the world from your home country of the united states for almost a year now.  

“hey, everyone!” you greet, voice warm and cheerful. you lean forward, adjusting the mic closer to your mouth. 

“how’s it going? what’s everyone been up to today?”  

a flurry of replies fills the screen. some talk about work or school, others ask what game you’ll be playing, and a few just spam emotes in excitement.  

“okay, okay,” you say with a laugh, waving a hand at the camera as if to calm them down. 

“before we jump into a game, let me give you a quick rundown of my day since some people in the chat are asking. it’s been a busy one, not gonna lie.”  

someone gifts you a sub, the notification popping up on the screen. you grin, glancing at the message: 

“how was your day, y/n?”

“see! my day? it was good!” you say, leaning back in your chair. 

“a little hectic, though. i went out for breakfast this morning at this cute little café downtown in wolfsburg—you know the one i mentioned last week? their cappuccinos are insane. afterwards i had to run around and grab some last-minute christmas gifts for my family back in the states. classic procrastination on my part.”  

you laugh softly, pausing briefly as you think about the rest of your day. you’re so comfortable, so used to chatting openly with your audience, that the words come out without much thought. 

“then, my girlfriend jul—”  

you freeze. your heart skips a beat as the realization hits you like a ton of bricks.  

“uh, i mean, my friend jule and i went out for lunch before her training session,” you say quickly, stumbling over the words as you try to backtrack. but it’s too late.  

the chat explodes.  

“DID SHE JUST SAY GIRLFRIEND???”  

“WAIT WAIT WAIT.”  

“i KNEW IT WAS JULE.”  

“not lynn wilms????”  

you can feel your face heat up as you glance at the chat. it’s moving so fast that you can barely make out individual messages, but the general vibe is clear: they caught your slip-up, and there’s no taking it back.  

“uh…” you laugh nervously, running a hand through your hair. “i… yeah, i fucked up, didn’t i? shit the stream hasn’t even really started yet ha ha” you mumble, more to yourself than to the chat, but of course, they hear it.  

the chat continues to erupt with a mix of excitement, shock, and jokes. some viewers are celebrating, others are teasing you, and a few are still trying to piece everything together.  

“okay, okay, calm down, everyone!” you say, holding up your hands as if that could somehow stop the chaos. “look, i think that’s enough excitement for one stream. i’m gonna go, even though i just got on, before i dig myself into an even deeper hole. i’ll see you all tomorrow, okay? have a good night!”  

with a click, you end the stream, the screen going black as you sit back in your chair with a heavy sigh.  

“oh my god,” you mutter, covering your face with your hands. your phone buzzes on the desk, and you already know who it’s from.  

sure enough, it’s lynn. 

lynn: I watched the stream. uh oh..

you groan, typing back quickly: yeah… i think i just outed me and jule to the entire internet.  

your phone buzzes again almost immediately, but this time it’s not a text. it’s jule calling. your stomach flips as you stare at her name on the screen, hesitating for a moment before answering.  

“hey…” you say cautiously, your voice small.  

“so… did you do what i think you did?” jule asks, her tone calm but with a hint of curiosity.  

“i’m so sorry,” you blurt out, the words tumbling out in a rush. 

“it just slipped out! i was talking about my day, and i wasn’t thinking, and then—”  

“y/n,” jule interrupts, her voice steady. 

“breathe. it’s okay.”  

“but we agreed to keep it private for at least a year, and now—”  

“y/n,” she says again, a little more firmly this time.

 “it’s okay. i know you didn’t mean to. honestly, people were going to figure it out eventually.”  

you fall silent, guilt still gnawing at you. 

“are you sure you’re not mad? because i feel awful, jule. like, seriously awful.”  

“i’m not mad,” she reassures you, her voice softening. 

“i promise. if anything, it’s kind of funny. you tried so hard to cover it up, but your chat is way too smart for that.”  

you let out a small, reluctant laugh. 

“yeah, they’re too smart for their own good but still, i feel like i messed up.”  

“you didn’t,” she says firmly. 

“it’s fine. really. now stop beating yourself up about it, okay?”  

“okay,” you mumble, though the guilt still lingers.  

the week that follows is a blur. the initial frenzy around your slip-up starts to die down, but the topic still pops up in your community and on social media. jule keeps things normal between you two, never bringing it up unless you do, which helps ease some of your worry. 

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you let her down.  

then, one afternoon, your phone buzzes with a notification from jule’s instagram story. curious, you open it, and your heart skips a beat.  

there, on her story, is a picture of you two from a few weeks ago. 

(pretend this is jule and you of course)

your jaw drops as you stare at the post, reading and rereading the words.  

quickly calling jule, your voice a mix of shock and amusement. 

“you really just hard-launched us like that?”  

“well, people already knew, didn’t they?” she teases. 

“might as well...”  

the taller blond gets cut off as you laugh, the sound finally free of the guilt that’s been weighing you down all week. 

“you’re amazing, you know that?”  

“i do,” she says, her tone playful. 

“and so are you. now, can we move on from this?”  

“yeah,” you say, and this time, you mean it.  

masterlist

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 15

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Y/n slowly begins to recover, gradually warming up to Azriel and Cassian again. She agrees to train with Cassian but only under a few conditions.

A/N: As promised, here’s the next chapter with more Az interaction. Enjoy!

WC: 4.8K.

As days went by, Y/n’s nightmares became less frequent. Cassian only spoke a few words to her whenever they crossed paths, mostly greetings, casual questions about her day, how she’s doing, and nothing more. No snarky comments, no mention of training.

She hadn’t seen Azriel for a while either. He was mostly on missions, ones she knew nothing about, and when he was back, he either stayed locked in his room or left just before she arrived.

Somehow, whenever she’d enter the dining room, she’d catch the lingering trail of shadows and find a half-empty plate or cup. He always seemed to know when she’d come and left before she could ignore him or say something to hurt him. It was almost like he was avoiding her just as much as she was avoiding him.

She began to miss him, and that was dangerous.

But at least her life had improved. She was eating again, going to the library, chatting with Gwyn occasionally, and knitting. Being left alone had softened her, just a little, though she wouldn't admit it to herself.

On one of those nights, she had finished a book that left her feeling content for once. The idea of sleep didn’t appeal to her yet, so she headed to the roof for some peace, fresh air, and a view of the slumbering city below.

She did not notice Azriel training in the corner of the roof at first. As usual he was as slick and silent as the shadows, his form blending into the dark. This time, his shadows did not inform him of her arrival. When he saw her, he moved slightly, making an accidental noise that earned her attention.

“I didn’t know you were back,” she remarked, her voice softer than usual, though her brows rose in faint surprise.

Azriel paused, lowering his weapon. “Only for the night.” His body remained tense, debating whether to leave to stay.

“Don’t you ever take a break?” she asked, stepping further into the open air.

“I do when I need one,” he answered simply.

“You’re going to work yourself to death.” Her gaze flicked over him, taking in the weariness etched into his features. “You look like hell. You should get some rest.”

It was her way of not being cold to him, and they both knew it.

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Didn’t know you cared.” Though low, his tone carried a faint chill, guarded as ever.

“I- it was just a suggestion,” she clarified quickly, glancing away. “If whatever you’re doing is important, you need to take a step back and rest. If your head isn’t in the game, it’ll cost you a lot. And I know you don’t like to disappoint your High Lord.”

“I’ll rest when I feel the need to,” he insisted, his gaze lingering on her for a beat longer. Then he added, almost too softly. “Thank you for your advice.”

She didn’t know if he was being sincere or mocking her; his face betrayed nothing.

Y/n shifted on her feet, suddenly uncomfortable. Just as she turned to leave, she noticed his shadows sneaking toward her.

Her gaze followed them instinctively, and her lips quirked slightly. She had missed them too. Noticing his shadows and her focus, Azriel sighed before speaking again. “This had nothing to do with me. Sometimes they act on their own.”

“Relax, Shadowsinger. It’s fine,” she said quietly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

At that, his shoulders eased a fraction. He studied her for a moment, his hazel eyes searching her face. Something about her was different, her voice, her behavior towards him, the way she seemed healthier. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied lightly, brushing an invisible speck of dust from her sleeve.

“How are things?” he asked, careful and hesitant, as though afraid she might retreat behind her usual defenses.

“Not bad,” she said simply, her gaze drifting out over the city.

“But not good?”

“I’m still a prisoner,” she quipped, a faint edge to her tone.

“Be glad you’re not one of my prisoners,” he countered, softening a bit with a faint smirk, attempting to joke.

“Right. I almost forgot. You’re supposed to be ruthless with all the torturing you do.” Her lips curved upward, though she bit her lower lip to suppress the full smile.

“I’m glad you remembered,” he replied, his tone mock-serious. His eyes glinted faintly in the dim light. “But even if you were the most wicked High Fae alive, I promise you’re safe from me.”

“Hmm, even if I became a witch?” she questioned, her voice playful.

“Are you planning on becoming one?” he asked, raising a brow.

“I am,” she teased, shrugging. “But I still need someone to teach me how to channel that much power.”

He didn’t know if she was being serious or joking. “Just give me a heads-up when you do.”

“Why? So you could lock me up?” She couldn’t hide her amused smile anymore.

“I told you, you’re safe from me,” he repeated firmly. “But Spymaster, remember? It wouldn’t be a good look for me if I were the last to know.”

“Fine,” she relented, amused. “If I become a witch, you’ll be the first one to know, I promise. Happy now?”

“Very,” he said, an actual smile, soft and rare pulling at his lips.

Her own faded, her chest tightening unexpectedly. She missed that smile. She missed him, their little talks. For a moment, her expression faltered.

“What is it?” Azriel asked, noticing the shift.

“Nothing,” she murmured. “I should go. I have a long day tomorrow, and so do you. Good night, Shadowsinger.”

Of course, she’d pull away, run away from him the minute she started feeling something. The minute she felt her walls cracking.

“Good night, Troublemaker,” he whispered, though she was already gone.

The next morning, Azriel was gone again. But Y/n found herself in a rare good mood. She’d finally decided to train with Cassian.

This time, she arrived at the training ring dressed in Illyrian leathers, though not the ones she’d worn during the war. She’d burned those custom-made leathers after the war, unable to even look at them without being reminded of all she’d lost. If they hadn’t been custom, she wasn’t sure she could handle seeing others wearing the standard ones.

Cassian, shirtless and already wielding a sword, stood in his usual spot. When he noticed her approach, his brows shot up in surprise. He didn’t want to get his hopes up yet, so he asked, “Here to watch, or to join?”

“I’ve come to play,” she replied, heading for the weapon rack.

His surprise turned into an amused chuckle. “We should practice your movements before you go anywhere near a sword.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” she quipped, ignoring his comment as her fingers skimmed over the handles of various blades before selecting the lightest one. If she was going to wield one in front of him for the first time, she wasn’t about to embarrass herself. She knew she needed to work on her arm strength, but she could manage for now.

Cassian grinned, his wings shifting slightly behind him. “It’s for your own safety, but go ahead.”

Sword in hand, Y/n dragged the blade slightly along the ground as she stepped up to him. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are,” he said with a confident smirk, lowering into a defensive stance.

She did not give him a chance to prepare. In one swift motion, she disarmed him, the tip of her blade hovering just below his throat.

Cassian blinked, then broke into a wide grin. “Impressive. Let’s go again. I wasn’t prepared.”

“I thought you said you were ‘whenever I was’,” she replied, feigning innocence as she shrugged.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have to admit, I was taken by surprise.”

“In battle, your opponent won’t wait for you to get ready. I might not be the strongest or the fastest, but if and when it comes down to a fight, I can hold my own,” she said, lowering the blade.

Cassian retrieved his sword, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful as he studied her. “I see you know some moves. Let’s go again.”

“I’m not a fool. I know I can’t defeat you,” she admitted. “I’ve seen the way you fight. I just took advantage of the situation.”

“Never underestimate your opponent,” Cassian said, his tone carrying a hint of respect. “I failed at that, I admit. Where did you learn to do that?”

She ran her fingers along the blade’s edge, inspecting it. “I took self-defense classes a long time ago. And a few sword-fighting lessons too. I practiced from time to time.”

His brows furrowed as he considered her answer. “Why did you let me mock you all this time? Let me believe you couldn’t fight?”

She gave him a cool look. “You never asked. You presumed, just like everyone else.”

His gaze softened, a note of guilt creeping into his voice. “I apologize for that.” His voice was surprisingly serious. “Does anyone else know you can fight?”

“A few Illyrians,” she replied,her tone casual as she inspected the hilt of the sword. “And I believe your Shadowsinger does.”

Cassian’s expression darkened slightly. “Is that why Devlon warned me to keep you away from his warriors? You beat them up?”

“I didn’t beat them up,” Y/n corrected, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just say they tried to show me some moves, and I showed them a few of my own.”

Cassian let out a hearty laugh, though his curiosity wasn’t fully satisfied. “Wait- your sisters don’t know?”

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“That is none of your business.”

He sighed but didn’t press. “So, why do you refuse to train then? If you know how to fight?” If he wasn’t intrigued before, he was now.

“That’s also none of your business.”

Cassian snorted, clearly exasperated. “If you hate me and can’t stand to train with me, you could always train with Az or Mor.”

“No.” Her reply was quick, sharp, leaving no room for debate. “Listen, I don’t hate you, but I just don’t like training.”

Cassian crossed his arms, his grin returning. “Is that you complimenting me?”

“You didn’t let me finish,” she shot back, rolling her eyes again. “Although I don’t necessarily hate you, training with you would be unbearable.”

“Is it because you wouldn’t be able to focus on training and rather be too distracted by my handsome face and impressive physique?” Cassian teased, flexing his arms playfully.

“In your dreams,” she retorted, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Engaging in conversation with you is frustrating enough. You’re just insufferable. You emanate this… bright aura around you. Your view on life is just-“

“Positive?” Cassian supplied, amused.

“Exactly.”

Cassian let out a bark of laughter. “How do you manage to turn every positive trait into a negative one?” He couldn’t fathom how her mind worked.

“The same way you turn negative ones into positives.”

“Why, though?” he pressed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“None of your business.”

“Is that your answer to everything, anyone asking you a personal question?”

“None- possibly..”

“I can already bet on the answer to this one, but why? Why don’t you want people to know you?”

“And that conversation has already been too much for my brain to handle in one day. I’m leaving.” She turned toward the door but halted, glancing back over her shoulder. “Because I’m in a good mood today, I’ll say something nice to you. Even though training with you would be unbearable, having your body on full display would make it slightly less unpleasant.” She shrugged.

Cassian froze, his expression caught somewhere between shock and delight. Then he grinned like a fool. “I’ll take that as a win.”

The next day, when Y/n arrived at the training ring again, Cassian was already there waiting for her, his arms crossed and a curious glint in his eyes. As she approached, he tilted his head, studying her. “So,” he began as she stopped a few paces away, “How do you want to do this?”

“First,” she said, holding up a finger, “I’ll only do basic muscle training. No sparring, no fighting exercises.”

“Why not?” he asked, feigning disappointment.

“I don’t like having an audience when I’m showing my moves.”

Cassian frowned, his brows drawing together. “Afraid someone will learn your fighting style and use it against you?”

“No,” she shot back, giving him an exasperated look. “I just don’t take well to certain kinds of criticism when it comes to this.”

He nodded slowly. “Fair enough. I won’t judge. If anything, I might offer some advice, but that’s it.”

“Still,” she said firmly, “I don’t feel ready for that yet.”

“Alright, basic exercises it is,” he agreed, though the curiosity in his eyes didn’t fade.

“Second,” she added, “I’d prefer it if we trained in silence.”

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Way to kill the mood, Y/n.”

“Want me to train with you or not?” she countered, crossing her arms.

“Alright, alright,” he relented, raising his hands in surrender. “We’ll do as you say.”

With that her training journey officially began.

The nights were different. While Cassian trained with her during the day, Y/n would sneak to the rooftop under the cover of darkness. There, with no eyes watching, she practiced her stances, her movements, and her sword work.

It was after a few nights of this routine that Azriel landed silently on the roof after a mission, only to be met with a sight he never expected to see. Azriel wasn’t surprised by many things, but when it came to Y/n, this female never ceased to catch him off guard. He came to find her focused, her attention wholly on the invisible target she struck with her sword.

Not wanting to disturb her or break her concentration, he remained quiet in the shadows.

After a few minutes, she stilled, her instincts sharpening. She could sense something lurking nearby. She reached for a dagger and, without hesitation, flung it towards the shadows. Azriel dodged by mere inches, stepping out into the faint light with his hands raised in surrender.

“It’s just me,” he said calmly, his tone steady as his golden eyes met hers.

Her shoulders relaxed, though her tone remained sharp. “I thought I made it clear I don’t like being watched.”

“I remember,” he replied. “It wasn’t intentional. I just arrived and didn’t want to interrupt. You seemed… focused.”

Y/n eyed him suspiciously but let it slide. “I’ll let it go this time.”

Azriel’s lips twitched faintly, almost teasing. “I didn’t know you could wield a sword.”

“I’m not a professional, if that’s what you think,” she admitted, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “But I thought you already knew. You made it seem that way when you asked me about the Illyrians.”

“I thought you used your fists,” Azriel replied smoothly. “And your legs.”

“You’re not wrong,” she replied with a small smirk. “Do your shadows really know all that?”

“And more,” he said, a subtle smile playing at his lips.

Y/n tilted her head. “Then, with all your knowledge, I assume a lot of people want you dead?”

“You assume correctly,” Azriel said in his naturally quiet tone, a hint of amusement threading through it.

Silence lingered between them before he gestured to her sword. “Can I give you a suggestion?”

“About what exactly?”

He stepped closer, his movements deliberate. “May I?” he asked, nodding toward the weapon in her hand.

After a brief hesitation, she nodded, handing him the sword. His fingers grazed hers as he took it, the fleeting contact sending an odd jolt up her arms. The shadows around him seemed to still, as if observing.

“You’re holding it like this,” he said softly, his hands steady as they demonstrated her current grip along the hilt. “It’s not wrong, but there’s an easier way to balance the weight without tiring your arms.” His movements were fluid, sure, as he adjusted his hold, showcasing a more efficient grip with ease.

When he handed the sword back to her, his scarred fingers brushed hers once more, the touch lingering just a moment too long. The shadows curled subtly between them, as though curious about the interaction.

“Do you want to give it a try?” he asked, stepping back.

“With you watching?” she muttered, hesitating.

Azriel’ tilted his head, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Yes. Is that a problem? I can leave if you’d prefer.”

“Yes, no-” Y/n stammered, quickly shaking her head. “I just… I never train in front of anyone.”

“Why not?”

“Your brother asked me the same question a few days ago,” she replied, her tone guarded.

“And what did you tell him?”

“That I don’t like being criticized when it comes down to this.”

Azriel studied her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. “But that’s not all, is it?”

She didn’t reply, her grip tightening on the sword as she started at the ground. After a moment, she shook her head.

“I won’t ask again,” he said gently. “Not unless you want to talk about it.”

She looked down at the sword, grateful he didn’t push.

“So,” Azriel continued, breaking the silence. “Do you want to try that move, or would you like me to leave?”

“You can stay, Shadowsinger,” she replied, the words slipping out before she could reconsider.

“Thank you for your generosity.” He gave a playful bow, a hint of a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes as a small smile softened her expression.

Adjusting her grip on the sword, she tried the move he’d demonstrated, surprised to find the technique was indeed easier and more natural than before.

Azriel stepped back and unsheathed his own sword, taking a fluid fighting stance.

“What are you doing?” she asked, brows furrowing.

“You forget, I usually train at night,” he said, his smile widening ever so slightly as the faint glow of starlight danced along his blade. “Don’t worry, I won’t spar with you…unless you want to?”

“No.” The answer came too quickly, her voice a little too sharp. Her heart stuttered as heat crept up her neck. “I wouldn’t be able to concentrate,” she added, cursing herself for the words as soon as they left her mouth.

A crease formed between his brows as confusion flickered across his face. “Why is that?”

Because my focus would be elsewhere, she thought to herself and was glad he couldn’t read minds. “I haven’t sparred with anyone in a long time,” she said instead, dodging his question. “The last time I did was during my lessons.”

Azriel regarded her for a moment but didn’t push. “The offer still stands. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

She scoffed. “I don’t think so. You’re a hard male to find.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “If you tell Cass or Rhys, I’ll come meet you.”

“For you to leave your all-important work just to come spar with me? I’m honored,” she said, mock-gasping as she placed her free hand over her chest.

“For you, I’d leave anything,” he replied quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Azriel froze, his heart almost stopping as his eyes widened slightly. He couldn’t believe what he’d just said.

Y/n blinked, her breath catching. She wasn’t sure if she'd heard him correctly, or if she wanted to. Ignoring the comment, she focused on the conversation at hand instead. “I’ll think about your offer.”

Azriel exhaled quietly, relief briefly crossing his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that kind of fear before. What’s going on with me? he thought to himself.

With a nod, he turned back to his training. Y/n did not run away from him like she always did. This time she stayed and they trained in silence.

The sun was already rising by the time they stopped, its first rays spilling across the roof. Y/n groaned softly, lowering her sword and stretching her sore arms.

“I probably won’t be able to train with your brother today. I can’t feel my arms.”

Azriel sheathed his sword, his lips twitching. “I can vouch for you if you want.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’d be weird.”

“How so?”

“Because the General is the General,” she replied, as if it were obvious. “If I go up to him and say I can’t practice today because I’m sore, he’ll ask why. And then you’d show up and say, ‘because we were practicing all night long.’” She arched a brow. “How do you think that would sound to him?”

Azriel’s cheeks reddened ever so slightly and for a moment, he actually looked flustered. “I see how that might sound…” he muttered. “So what are you going to tell him?” he asked, regaining his composure.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But I’ll probably just tell him I was practicing all night. He doesn’t need to know all the details.”

“Right,” Azriel nodded. “That’s for the best.”

“Besides,” she added, starting to ramble, “I think he’d be a little jealous. Seeing as I told him I wasn’t ready to train with him yet, and then we went and did exactly that.”

“Yeah, probably not a good idea,” he agreed, his lips twitching as if suppressing a smile.

“Alright, then. I’ll see you when I see you.” She turned to leave.

“Good night, Troublemaker,” he murmured, watching her go.

She paused at the doorway, glancing back at him. “Is that your new nickname for me now?”

Azriel smiled faintly, his shadows curling lazily around him. “I’ve had it for a while.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Sweet dreams, Shadowsinger,” she replied softly before slipping out of sight.

Azriel stood there for a moment longer, staring at where she’d disappeared. His hand grazed the hilt of his sword as her parting words echoed in his mind. He let out a slow breath, then finally turned to resume his training.

—

“I don’t mean to overstep my boundaries, but I have to ask, do you still have your powers?” Cassian asked during one of their sessions.

Y/n’s movements faltered, her brows knitting together. “Why does it matter?”

“Because if you do, it’s dangerous to keep them unchecked.”

She huffed, resuming her stance. “Even if I did still have my powers, which I’m not saying I do, nothing’s happened so far.”

“As you said, so far,” he pressed, his voice firm but not unkind. “But we all know what happens when you’re overwhelmed.”

“Let’s just get back to training,” she snapped, her tone leaving little room for argument.

“Y/n, it’s dangerous. Someone could get hurt.”

“I didn’t say I have powers,” she retorted sharply. “Just drop it.”

Cassian’s jaw tightened, his worry clear. “Just promise me, if you feel them coming back, you’ll tell me.”

“I’ll do no such thing.” She halted mid-movement, fixing him with a glare. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing, I’m just worried.”

“Well, don’t be,” she said, her voice colder now. “I’m not a ticking time bomb.”

“That you know of,” he replied, his tone edging toward frustration.

Y/n’s patience snapped. “Seriously, what is your problem?”

“Nesta still has her power,” he admitted quietly.

Her expression darkened, and her voice dropped to a dangerous calm. “Of course. Fucking Nesta! Why do you keep thinking that whatever she might do or have, I might as well?”

“Because that’s usually what happens,” Cassian said, pressing further. “You both are hotheaded, with tempers to match. You both took something from the Cauldron. You both have a way of pushing people away and saying hurtful things. Not to mention, you both shared similar bad habits after the war.”

“Do not compare her to me,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “She’s a much better person than I am, and we’re far more different than you think us to be.”

Before Cassian could reply, Y/n stormed off, leaving their session unfinished.

Y/n went straight to the library to unwind, her heart still pounding from the argument. Gwyn greeted her with a warm smile and recommended another book.

It wasn’t long before Y/n seelted into her usual spot, tucked away in the quiet depth of the library— the same place she had first discovered its solace. Bryaxis was no longer there, so that level should be safe, or so she thought.

She was aware Nesta was somewhere nearby, but thankfully, they didn’t cross paths.

She opened the book, letting its pages pull her into another world. But as she read, the quiet began to shift. A voice, faint at first, began to call her name. Again and again, the sound reverberated through the space.

Y/n stilled, shivers crawling up her spine. She tried to ignore it, focus on the words in front of her, but it was as if her body had other plans. Slowly, unwillingly, she stood.

The voice pulled her closer, an invisible string drawing her toward the darkness of the lower levels. Her steps were slow, hesitant, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t resist it. It wasn’t Bryaxis’ voice; she knew that much. This was darker, colder.

She halted just before the staircase. The voice whispered to her still, tempting her forward.

Then, suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm, spinning her around. Her breath caught as she found herself face- to-face with Azriel. Too close. He was too close, his face mere inches from hers. When she took in his features, she realized his breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling as though he’d run all the way to reach her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, startled.

Azriel didn’t answer right away, his shadows swarming protectively around them. His grip on her arm was firm, his other hand resting on the hilt of the dagger strapped to his side.

“Why were you going down there?” he demanded in his usual subdued voice.

Y/n blinked, the haze that had gripped her moments earlier beginning to fade. “How did you even find- never mind. I already know the answer to that question,” she muttered. “Something was calling to me. Something dark.”

Azriel’s expression turned more serious. “You shouldn’t stay in this part of the library again.”

“Why not?” she asked, her tone curious.

“The darkness is drawn to you like you are to it. Bryaxis might be gone, but there’s still darkness down there.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Did you have your shadows follow me?”

“No,” he replied. “It was a mere coincidence.” He glanced around warily. “They’re everywhere, though. And when they felt that darkness, they informed me.”

Y/n’s brows rose in mild disbelief. “You ran here?”

He nodded, reminding her. “We can’t winnow into the library.”

Y/n’s gaze flickered to his hand still wrapped around her arm. “You can let go now.”

Azriel blinked as though realizing it for the first time. He released her quickly, stepping back slightly, though his gaze didn’t waver. “Do you still have your powers?”

Her eyes sharpened at the question, a defensive edge creeping into her posture as she created a distance between them. “Did you talk to the General?”

“No, why?”

She let out a frustrated sigh, crossing her arms. “He asked me the same thing less than an hour ago.”

“I have reasons to believe the darkness was drawn to you because of your powers,” he explained, his eyes scanning her face for answers.“You should be careful.”

“You’re not going to tell me I should learn how to control it or keep it in check or whatever?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“No,” he replied simply. “I learned not to tell you what to do.”

She blinked again, caught off guard by his honesty. “At least one of you finally got the message.”

“Cassian means well,” Azriel said softly, though his tone held a hint of exasperation.

She scoffed. “He has a way of showing the opposite.”

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady. “The same way you do when you care about someone?”

Y/n froze, the words landing with more weight than she wanted to admit. She said nothing, just stared at him, the silence between them thick and charged.

Azriel didn’t push further. He simply watched her for a moment longer before his shadows receded slightly, their tension easing. “Stay away from the lower levels,” he said at last. “Promise me that.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Azriel took her silence as agreement.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he spoke softly before stepping back and turning on his heel.

Y/n remained rooted to the spot, staring at the place where he’d disappeared. Somehow, buried deep beneath her defenses, was the unsettling warmth of Azriel’s concern. Not that she’d ever acknowledge it, or admit how much it lingered.

Tags: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious  @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho  @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore @spymaster03 @elaselat @minnieoo @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jojodojo02 @questionmymentality @romantasyreader28 @cassie-at-college-blog @dabiloverphoenix @hippop345

[spencerrsmopbucket]

Tides of Venom (3) | Finnick Odair

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Summary: You. the Snake of Seven, had a knack for being efficient. You'd do what needed to be done to get out of the arena alive. But is it that simple?

Warnings: Death. Brutality, basically. The reader being the Snake of Seven.

(NOTE: I am writing the arena and the games differently. It won't be exactly like the movie. The arena isn't a clock, for one. It's very similar to the one in Katniss's first games -- except more water.)

The waiting area was oppressively quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the training facility. Gone were the sounds of clashing metal and grunts of exertion. Here, the silence was almost deafening, broken only by the faint hum of Capitol machinery and the soft clicks of heels against polished floors as attendants flitted in and out, making final adjustments to the tributes’ outfits.

You sat in the corner of the room, perched on a small bench as you tightened the laces on your boots. The gear they’d given you was lightweight but durable, designed for speed and agility rather than brute force. Perfect. The Capitol had spared no expense in ensuring every tribute had what suited them. Something practical. You cracked your neck as you closed your eyes, taking a deep slow breath.

You were strapping in. You were becoming her.

Across the room, Reid paced nervously, his fingers twitching at his sides. His dark hair was slicked back, but a few strands had already fallen loose, sticking to his forehead. He looked up at you every so often, his expression a mix of fear and determination. You could see it in his eyes: he knew he didn’t stand a chance out there. Not against the Careers. Not against the arena itself. And certainly not against you.

“You need to stop pacing,” you said sharply, not looking up from your boots. “You’re wasting energy.”

He stopped mid-step, glancing over at you with a sheepish expression. “Sorry. It’s just… hard not to think about what’s coming.”

You finally looked up, your cold e/c eyes locking onto his. “Thinking won’t help you now. You either act, or you don’t. That’s the only thing that matters in this arena." You say coldly, standing up.

Reid nodded, though you could tell your words hadn’t reassured him. He sat on the bench opposite you, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. “You’re not scared?” he asked after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tilted your head, studying him. Scared? No, that wasn’t the right word. Fear had no place in your mind anymore. Not after everything you’d been through. “Fear’s a luxury I can’t afford,” you said finally. “Neither can you.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked away. “I’ll try.”

You sighed, leaning back against the wall. Reid wasn’t going to last long. He was smart, sure. Probably the smartest person in the room. But intelligence only got you so far in the Games. The Careers would tear him apart the moment they got the chance. That thought settled heavily in your mind, twisting uncomfortably in your chest. You’d made up your mind days ago, but now, sitting here with him, it felt more real than ever.

In your own interest and in the best interest of Reid, you would take him down first. Before anyone else touched him. In some twisted way, in a way that you knew his parents wouldn't understand, it was an act of mercy. An act of kindness. You would be quick, keeping it as painless as possible.

Maybe you would take the coward's way and kill him while he was asleep. Maybe you would creep up behind him and snap his neck. Whatever it was, it would be your first act in the arena. You weren't going to let one of the bloodthirsty careers, especially Cashmere, who had shown an interest, get to him.

He was too soft, too gentle, too kind.

The waiting room’s oppressive stillness was broken by the sharp sound of the door opening. A Capitol attendant stepped inside, her polished smile as jarring as it was false. Her words were clipped, her tone professional, like this was just another day at work for her.

“It’s time,” she announced.

You stood immediately, tightening the last strap on your gear. The air around you grew heavier, the tension suffocating as you glanced over at Reid. He hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides before he rose to his feet. His face was pale, his jaw set, but his trembling hands gave him away.

“Stay close,” you said again, your voice firm. It wasn’t a suggestion.

He nodded quickly, following behind you as the attendant led you into the hallway. The stark, polished walls glimmered under artificial light, the hum of Capitol machinery filling the air. Your boots clicked rhythmically against the floor, a steady beat counting down the seconds until everything changed.

The launch pads came into view, their cold metal surfaces gleaming with a sterile finality. Capitol technicians bustled around, making last-minute adjustments and murmuring instructions you ignored. The attendant gestured toward your designated platform, and you stepped onto it without hesitation.

The metal beneath your boots was icy, a jarring contrast to the heat simmering in your veins. The glass cylinder descended around you, sealing you inside with an eerie hiss. Across the room, you caught one last look at Reid as he stepped into his own tube. He glanced your way, his eyes wide, searching for reassurance you didn’t have to offer.

As you started ascending, you once more closed your eyes, speaking to yourself in your head.

Don't be merciful.

Don't slow down.

Don't show weakness. For the love of God, don't show pain either.

Get what you need, nothing extra. Don't waste time.

Be smart. Always be one step ahead.

Ignore Finnick Odair.

When your final thought rang through, you opened your eyes. You were being lifted into the arena.

The arena was a brilliantly crafted nightmare. It was a perfect circle, with the Cornucopia perched on a central island surrounded by water. The golden horn gleamed blindingly under the sun, its shadow stretching across the pristine white sand that encircled it.

The water surrounding the Cornucopia wasn’t the refreshing blue of a tropical paradise. It was a dark, ominous teal, its surface deceptively calm, rippling faintly under the weight of the tension in the air. Beyond the water, the arena’s outer edge formed a ring of dense jungle, the foliage impossibly thick and teeming with life. Towering trees with unnaturally large leaves cast deep shadows, and the air buzzed with the constant sound of unseen insects.

Your eyes narrowed as you looked around.

The jungle beyond the water loomed like a living wall, an unrelenting mass of greens and browns that seemed to move and breathe on its own. Thick vines twisted like snakes around tree trunks, and the undergrowth was so dense you could barely make out what lay beyond the first few feet. The shadows within the trees were darker than they should have been, as though the jungle itself was hiding secrets, waiting for the right moment to reveal them.

The air was heavy with the oppressive heat, already making it hard to breathe. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck as you stood still, your boots firmly planted on your platform. The sound of the jungle’s distant life—the chirps, growls, and rustles—melded with the faint lapping of water against the shore. It was a cacophony of unease, designed to unsettle even the strongest minds.

You shifted your focus to the Cornucopia, your sharp eyes scanning the scattered supplies. Weapons glinted in the sunlight, their edges polished to a lethal shine. Packs of various sizes were scattered haphazardly across the sandy island, their contents unknown but undoubtedly essential for survival. The tantalizing glimmer of resources was a trap—a lure for the desperate and the greedy.

To your left, Reid stood frozen on his platform, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he took in the scene. His wide-eyed terror was palpable even at a distance, and you clenched your jaw. You had no room for distractions. Reid was a dead man walking; it was only a matter of when, not if.

The countdown began.

A booming voice echoed through the arena, counting down from sixty, and the tension became suffocating. Your hands curled into fists, every muscle in your body coiled and ready to spring. Each second that ticked away felt like an eternity, the sound of the clock reverberating in your ears. You inhaled deeply, steadying your nerves. You had one chance, one opportunity to grab what you needed and retreat.

“Forty-five,” the voice droned.

You assessed the tributes, your mind calculating distances, reactions, and potential threats. Cashmere stood with a smirk on her face, her hand flexing at her side like she was already envisioning her next kill. Finnick’s expression was unreadable, though his stance was loose, casual, and far too confident. Brutus practically vibrated with anticipation, his eyes locked on the Cornucopia like a predator eyeing its prey.

You noted their placements and trajectories, marking who would go where. You weren’t the strongest or the fastest, but you were smarter, more calculated. You wouldn’t waste time vying for weapons with the Careers—those were theirs for the taking. You needed supplies, something to sustain you in the hellscape that awaited.

“Thirty.”

The seconds blurred together now, each heartbeat syncing with the countdown. Your eyes darted back to the Cornucopia, mentally tracing a path to the nearest pack that wouldn’t put you in the Careers’ immediate line of fire. A medium-sized bag lay just off-center, near a long, slender blade half-buried in the sand. Close enough to risk. Far enough to escape.

“Fifteen.”

Reid shifted nervously, glancing toward you as if looking for direction. You didn’t return the glance. He needed to make his own choices now. The arena wouldn’t wait for you to hold his hand.

“Ten.”

The sound of your own breathing drowned everything else out. Your chest rose and fell rhythmically as you prepared to sprint. Your fingers twitched at your sides, aching to move, to act.

“Nine.”

The sunlight glinted off the Cornucopia, a final cruel beacon of hope for those foolish enough to think they’d find safety there.

“Eight.”

Your muscles tensed, coiled tight like a spring about to release.

“Seven.”

This was it.

“Six.”

No hesitation.

“Five.”

Every second counted.

“Four.”

A decision was a life.

“Three.”

The world stilled.

“Two.”

The game began.

“One.”

And then, the gong rang.

The instant the gong rang, you propelled yourself forward, your boots slamming against the metal platform as you launched into motion. The sand was firmer than you expected beneath your feet, but you didn’t let it slow you down. Your eyes stayed fixed on your target: the medium-sized pack lying just off-center from the Cornucopia, its muted green fabric almost blending into the sand.

Around you, chaos erupted. Tributes surged toward the golden horn or scattered into the jungle, their movements frantic and desperate. The sharp clanging of metal meeting metal filled the air as the Careers, with their practiced ease, went straight for the weapons. The sounds of screaming began almost immediately, some cut short, others turning into gurgles as blood spilled into the pristine sand.

You tuned it out. All of it. Your focus was singular.

The pack was closer now, and you adjusted your path to grab the blade lying beside it. You skidded to a halt, crouching low as your fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife. Its weight was perfect—light enough for precision but heavy enough to do damage. You sheathed it quickly, slinging the bag over your shoulder in one fluid motion before turning back the way you came.

You darted away from the Cornucopia, weaving between other tributes as the chaos continued to unfold. A boy from District 10 lunged at you with a spear, his face contorted with fear and desperation. You sidestepped him easily, slamming the heel of your boot into his knee as you passed. He crumpled to the ground with a scream, but you didn’t look back.

The jungle loomed ahead, its thick shadows promising cover but also danger. You pushed forward, your breath steady, your movements calculated. You didn’t hesitate as you plunged into the dense foliage, the cool shade of the trees enveloping you like a second skin. The sound of the bloodbath at the Cornucopia faded slightly, muffled by the jungle’s oppressive canopy.

You didn’t stop running until you were deep enough that the sounds of violence were just an echo. Finally, you slowed, your breaths coming hard and fast as you ducked behind a massive tree trunk. You slid the pack from your shoulder, quickly unzipping it to assess your supplies.

A waterskin. A few packs of dried meat. A coil of rope. A small first-aid kit.

Not bad. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get you through the first day. You slipped the knife from its sheath, holding it tightly as you scanned your surroundings. The jungle was eerily alive, its sounds louder now that you’d stopped moving. Insects buzzed relentlessly, and the occasional rustle of leaves hinted at unseen creatures moving through the underbrush.

Your mind raced as you considered your next move. The Careers would consolidate their power at the Cornucopia, picking off stragglers who lingered too long. You had to stay ahead of them, keep moving, and find a vantage point to observe the arena’s layout. Knowledge was your best weapon here, even more than the blade in your hand.

Your eyes narrowed as you thought of Reid. He’d run in the opposite direction, veering off toward the water’s edge when the gong sounded. He hadn’t even tried for supplies, his fear and lack of instinct driving him to flee. You exhaled sharply. You couldn’t think about him now. Not yet.

A faint rustle nearby snapped you back to the present. You tensed, the knife in your hand at the ready. Your heart pounded in your chest as you strained your ears, trying to determine whether it was an animal or another tribute.

“Come out,” you said coldly, your voice steady despite the tension in your muscles. “I don’t have time for games.”

The underbrush parted slowly, revealing��

...a woman, a Victor you didn't recognize, her wide brown eyes filled with terror. Her hair was tied back messily, dirt streaking her face. She held no weapon, just her trembling hands raised slightly in a gesture of surrender. She was from one of the outlying districts—you recognized her as the girl from 11, the one with the quick hands during training.

She froze when she saw you, her chest heaving as though she’d been running for her life, which, in a way, she had.

You didn’t lower your knife. “What do you want?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She swallowed hard, her gaze darting to the blade in your hand, then back to your face. Finally, she whispered, “Please... don’t.”

Your grip tightened on the hilt, but you didn’t make a move toward her. Your mind calculated the risks. She wasn’t a threat—not yet. If you let her go, she could alert others to your position. If you killed her now, it would be cleaner, simpler, less risky in the long run.

But her trembling frame, her pleading eyes—it twisted something in your chest. A pang of something unfamiliar. You shoved it down. Compassion had no place in this arena.

“Turn around,” you ordered sharply. “Walk away, and don’t let me see you again.”

She hesitated for a moment, her body rigid with fear. Then, with a quick nod, she backed away, keeping her eyes on you until she disappeared into the foliage.

You exhaled heavily, letting your arm drop as the knife remained at your side. A small part of you cursed your decision, but the rest—the part that still clung to a shred of humanity—felt relief.

You slid the knife back into its sheath and adjusted the pack on your shoulder. The jungle wasn’t going to wait for you, and neither would the other tributes. You needed to find higher ground, something that would give you a better vantage point to scope out the arena.

The faint sound of running water caught your attention, and you followed it cautiously, keeping low and moving quickly. The dense jungle opened up slightly, revealing a narrow stream cutting through the terrain. You knelt by the water, cupping your hands to take a quick drink, your ears tuned to every sound around you.

As you rose, your thoughts returned to the bloodbath. The Careers would be regrouping by now, and anyone who had tried to challenge them was likely dead. Reid’s face flashed in your mind again, pale and terrified as he’d sprinted toward the water’s edge.

He wouldn’t survive the night.

Your jaw clenched as you forced the thought away. Survival came first. Attachments—emotional or otherwise—were liabilities. You tightened the straps on your pack and began moving upstream, your eyes scanning for any sign of movement.

The arena was waking up now, and you could feel it. The air grew thicker, the sounds of the jungle louder, more chaotic. The Capitol’s hand was everywhere here, manipulating the environment to push you, trap you, force you into confrontation.

And yet, as the sun began its slow descent, you felt a flicker of resolve deep within you. You weren’t here to survive. You were here to win.

Whatever it took.

-

Hours had passed. The sound of the cannon was like a beautiful melody, reminding you of those that you wouldn't have to take care of. You were up a tree, glaring down onto the ground, waiting for someone to drop down on.

Alerting the others of your position was stupid. You wouldn't move until you had to. You wouldn't move until there was someone to get rid of, to get you closer to home.

Your bag hung on the branch securely as you sat next to it, your expression mildly bored. You prayed to yourself that Reid hadn't died yet.

As if on cue, you heard his voice.

Pleading.

Then, you heard Cashmere's.

Your body tensed immediately, muscles coiling like a spring as you shifted silently on the branch. The sound of Reid’s voice, frantic and desperate, cut through the humid air, sharp enough to make your chest tighten.

“No, please,” he begged, his voice trembling but still carrying that faint, foolish hope that someone might show mercy. “I don’t have anything you want. Just let me go.”

Cashmere’s laugh followed, low and cruel. It echoed through the jungle like a predator’s growl. “Let you go? Oh, sweetheart, it’s not about what you have. It’s about making a statement.”

You inched forward on the branch, your e/c eyes narrowing as you spotted them through the foliage below. Reid was on his knees, hands raised defensively in front of him, his face pale and streaked with sweat. Cashmere stood over him, a spear glinting in her hand, her posture casual yet predatory. She was savoring this moment, drawing it out like a cat playing with its prey.

“Please,” Reid tried again, his voice cracking. “I’m not a threat to you.”

“That’s the problem,” Cashmere said smoothly, twirling the spear. “You’re too easy, Reid. No challenge. No fun. But I’ll admit...” She tilted her head, smirking. “Your fear is so fun.”

Your grip tightened on your knife as you watched, anger simmering in your chest. Cashmere wasn’t killing him for strategy or supplies—she was doing it for the thrill, the spectacle. It was pointless. Cruel.

And you weren’t going to let her have the satisfaction.

Carefully, you secured your pack and shifted your weight, positioning yourself on the branch directly above them. Your mind worked quickly, calculating the angle and force you’d need to take her down cleanly. You couldn’t afford a drawn-out fight—not with other tributes potentially nearby.

“Any last words?” Cashmere purred, raising the spear with a flourish.

“Yeah,” you muttered under your breath, pushing off the branch. “Mine.”

You dropped like a shadow, landing squarely on her back with all your weight. The impact sent her stumbling forward, the spear clattering to the ground as you wrapped an arm around her throat, yanking her off balance. She thrashed wildly, her hands clawing at you, but your grip was ironclad.

“Reid, move!” you barked, your voice sharp.

He scrambled back, wide-eyed, as you wrestled Cashmere to the ground. Her nails raked against your skin, drawing blood, but you didn’t flinch. With a quick, precise motion, you drove your knife into her side, aiming just below her ribs. Her body went rigid beneath you, a strangled gasp escaping her lips before she collapsed.

You heard garbled speech as crimson poured from her mouth, her eyes still wide in shock. Moments later, they closed in what seemed to be exhaustion.

The cannon boomed a second later, the sound reverberating through the jungle like a judge’s gavel.

You shoved her body off you and stood, breathing hard as you turned to face Reid. He was staring at you, his face pale, his hands trembling. “You... you saved me.”

You barely registered the words before your gaze snapped to Reid, his eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. But as you took a step forward, your instincts screamed at you. You were being watched.

A shadow darted behind a nearby tree, too subtle for Reid to notice, but not for you. Your heart sank as another figure emerged from the foliage.

It was the girl with the dark hair, the one who had been trailing behind you both. You didn't have time to think. She’d seen everything—Cashmere's death, your unguarded moment. She wouldn’t hesitate.

Reid was too distracted by the scene unfolding before him, too overwhelmed by the adrenaline and shock. You had to act fast.

Before the girl had a chance to make her move, you whirled around to face Reid, your hand snaking out like a viper. You grabbed his neck in a brutal grip, yanking him toward you with surprising ease. His eyes widened in panic, but he didn’t scream. He just stared at you, trying to process the sudden shift in your demeanor.

“W-what—what are you doing?” Reid gasped, his voice trembling.

“I’m doing what needs to be done,” you hissed, your face cold and emotionless. “I'm sorry. But this is the easiest way. I'm doing it for you.”

His face contorted with confusion, his body struggling weakly against your iron grip. His hands clawed at your arm, but it was futile. You could feel his pulse racing under your fingers, his fear palpable.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Don’t... please don’t do this. I trust you.”

But the trust was meaningless. You had your orders, your mission. And that mission wasn’t to protect him. It was to survive.

With a swift motion, you twisted his head to the side. His body went limp instantly, the bones in his neck snapping like a twig, the life leaving his eyes in an instant.

The cannon fired immediately after. The sound deafening, final.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you stood over his lifeless form, your hands slick with blood. It didn’t matter how much your heart ached in that moment. It had to be ended before he suffered a worse fate. The worry was setting you off focus -- and even if you'd tried to save him, to bring him home, it wouldn't have worked. You couldn't act as well as Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. It would've cost you too much.

You stood over Reid’s body, your chest heaving with a mixture of exhaustion and something darker—something you didn’t want to acknowledge. But then, as you looked down at him, something unexpected happened.

A single tear, clear and cold, slipped from the corner of your eye and ran down your cheek. It was slow at first, as if the reality of what you had just done was finally settling in. The warmth of it contrasted sharply with the coldness of your heart, and for the first time in a long while, you felt the weight of your actions.

You quickly wiped it away, as if the motion could erase the moment. But it stayed with you, the faint trace of moisture on your skin, lingering like a whisper of the person you used to be—the one who might have hesitated, the one who might have saved him.

But you couldn’t afford that weakness now.

With one last glance at Reid, you turned and disappeared into the jungle, the tear still burning a path on your face, even as you moved further away from everything that had just happened. The silence swallowed you whole, and the only thing left was the sound of the jungle and the fading memory of a decision made in the name of survival.

[kbz-writes]

Here is my Winter Gift Exchange '24 fic for @kamiya-travis. I hope you like it! It's my first time writing so much Hiruma & Mamori interaction.

Shout out to @eyeshields for organizing, thank youuu!

Title: Any Other Name

Rating: Gen

Relationship: Hiruma & Mamori

Summary: During the Hakushu game, Hiruma's injury happens right before halftime. His conversation with Mamori goes differently.

The gift of being an eldest daughter is that it's also a bit of a curse. Granted, Mamori is an only child. However, she and Sena were close since they were little. They were practically siblings. Caring for someone came naturally to her when they'd play together. The effect compounded from there. She took care of people because she was a caretaker, and she was a caretaker because she took care of people. A cycle. The gentlest ourobous.

That's why, with Hiruma on the cot with his broken arm bandaged, she has to put her foot down.

"There's no way you can keep playing with your arm like that!" she yells, unable to keep her voice calm. The envelope she tore up and then painstakingly taped back together shakes in her hand. "After halftime, we'll have someone else be quarterback—"

"Third question," Hiruma says through gritted teeth, ignoring her completely. "There are idiots in the NFL that have kept playing matches with broken bones. True or false?"

Mamori knows she's trapped in the cycle. She can't let him hurt himself any more.

"If I say true, then you'll just keep playing," she says, unable to keep her eyes from welling with tears. "So I'll say false."

"Wrong." A slash of a smile streaks across Hiruma's face. "I win."

"What? Third... question...?" Her mind goes back to the beginning of the year. Their bet. How could she have forgotten?

"As you promised, you'll work obediently."

"You're an idiot," she whispers. "Bringing that up after all this time."

"Just keep your promise. Open the letter."

"By process of elimination, it has to be Ishimaru." Her fingers work stiffly pulling out the single piece of paper inside. Reading the name feels like gibberish at first. "It's—my name?"

"Oh, good, you're not illiterate. Almost had me fooled."

"You can't be serious. I'm not on the team!"

"You're on the roster."

The Bando game. She had thought it was uncharacteristic for Hiruma to add her as a form of sentimentality. 

"I don't have a uniform." Even as Mamori says that, she knows Hiruma already has an answer. (Suzuna teasingly making Mamori try on Sena's uniform. It'd be easy enough to get her a spare knowing her measurements.)

"That chibi cheerleader is useful sometimes."

Mamori is left standing dumbly, at a complete loss of words. Up to this point, her role on the team has been all about analysis: film, developing plays, planning for every possibility.

"Are you doing this because I know our playbook?" she asks.

Hiruma scoffs. "So does the team."

"But I can't throw—" But she has thrown a few times, she thinks, a little with Suzuna, even once with Hiruma when they had needed to take a break during a particularly long film session. She hadn't been all that good, but she had caught on to the basics.

Her eyes widen.

The weight training she had tried out of curiosity with the team.

Cycling alongside them during their runs.

Ladders with Sena every once in a while.

Even the games of sand football.

She'd been training with them all this time, hadn't she?

"You've been planning this for a long while, haven't you?" she asks. "You always have backup plans just in case, even if something like this happening was almost impossible."

"I've told you before, we make our own luck. Now, don't tell me you'd be satisfied with just being a fucking manager this whole time."

Being the manager for the Devilbats had come naturally to Mamori. It was a challenge she happily accepted. Just like Yukimitsu, Mamori hadn't joined any other clubs. It would have interfered too much with the Devilbats demanding schedule. Her kinship with Yukimitsu is different than her friendship with Suzuna. (Suzuna is part of the cheer team and the Devilbats.) Mamori and Yukimitsu only have the Devilbats. She'd been so happy for him when he joined the field against Shinryuji, even if she felt like she'd been left on the outside looking in.

Mamori had made peace with giving up her last year of athletic eligibility to help the Devilbats.

And yet.

(She placed eighth overall for the girls' heat in the last sports festival race. She beat out a couple of the girls on the track team.)

(She’d thought about joining the track team actually. Something to keep her in shape. Something fun to do. A different form of challenge. But there was never any time.)

"The team has worked so hard to reach the Christmas Bowl," Mamori says. "Somewhere along the way, it became my dream, too." She folds the paper back into the envelope and sets it to the side, all business. "What's your plan? You can't expect me to last the whole second half. I can't throw like you."

Hiruma keeps grinning sharply despite the pain he must be in. "Who the fuck asked you to do that? Your head's getting stupid from all the cream puffs. You're not my replacement. We're going two quarterbacks."

She lets his barbs slide off of her. If anything, his insults are a good sign. They're also reassuring. (Seeing someone as unflappable as Hiruma fall is distressing to the say the least.)

Mamori taps her chin. "If you're going on the field, it must be because you still have a card up your sleeve. Throwing has to be impossible—which is why you'll still do it, won't you?"

"Realistically, I got one good throw left. My arm'll be useless after that."

"But Hakushu doesn't know that. Just you being on the field will make them hesitate with how unpredictable you are."

They lock eyes.

"We're cursing them so they can't fucking look away. Gonna drive fucking eyelashes insane trying to predict what we're gonna do. Might've been close if it was just one quarterback, but luckily we got the smartest bitch joining the field."

"You're terrible," Mamori says. This insult doesn't bother her either. No, her system's already start to fill with adrenaline. She's more concerned with other things. She's seen how big the linemen are. 

Reading her mind, Hiruma says, "Can't guarantee you won't get hurt."

"It's a full contact sport," she says, blunt. Her voice shakes. This is how Sena and Yukimitsu must have felt their first game. She gulps. "I'll do it."

"As if there was any question. 'Sides, the Devilbats don't let fucking cowards on the team."

Their talk takes them about a third of the way through halftime. They hustle getting ready. Following Hiruma's instruction, she bandages both his arms up, and he waits for her to change into her uniform. She is a bit touched to find it's modified for women, more room in the chest padding.

When she puts on her helmet and stares into the mirror, she doesn't recognize herself. All she sees is an American football player. (She likes it.)

She steps out of the changing room, and they walk in-step together to the field, but when Mamori steps onto the pitch, she does it as part of the team.

She does it for herself.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices ( Book 2 of 3 BTR Series) a Jhea Fanfic.

Chapter 30: California Mountain Snake..

Flashback: March 23rd, 2019

Rhea stood outside the back of Vices, the cool night air mingling with the thick smoke of her cigarette. The weight of her conversation with Morris hung heavy on her shoulders. It wasn't the deal that bothered her, not really. She had navigated shady deals before, but this one felt different. Too much risk, too many moving parts.

She needed a moment to think.

She took a long drag, letting the smoke fill her lungs before exhaling slowly. What had she gotten herself into? She wasn't sure if she was ready to go all in with Morris-hell, she wasn't even sure she trusted him. But something in the way he looked at her, the way he'd spoken, made her wonder if stability was worth the cost.

Before she could dwell further on her thoughts, she heard the words that snapped her back to reality.

"Fucking bitch."

Rhea didn't have time to react before she felt a fist collide with her jaw. She staggered back, nearly dropping the cigarette from her hand. The stinging impact of the punch was enough to snap her out of the haze. Her eyes narrowed as she regained her footing, recognizing the person who had just assaulted her. Valerie.

"Valerie, what the hell?" Rhea growled, wiping the blood from her lip.

Without hesitation, Valerie lunged at her again, fury and jealousy radiating from her every move.

Rhea didn't have to think—her body moved instinctively, drawing from grueling training in hapkido from Charles.

As Valerie swung another wild punch, Rhea sidestepped it effortlessly, using her opponent's momentum to her advantage. A sharp palm strike caught Valerie's chest, sending her stumbling back. The anger in Valerie's eyes only seemed to fuel Rhea's precision.

Rhea's foot snapped out in a swift roundhouse kick, connecting squarely with Valerie's side, knocking the wind out of her. Valerie staggered, but before she could recover, Rhea closed the distance between them, flipping her opponent to the ground with a perfect hip toss.

Valerie gasped as she hit the pavement, trying to scramble to her feet, but Rhea was already there.

In a fluid motion, Rhea pinned Valerie's neck to the ground with her foot, applying just enough pressure to make her struggle for breath.

"You think you can take me down?" Rhea hissed, her eyes cold as she looked down at the woman beneath her. "You don't know who you're dealing with."

The words were a warning, but Rhea wasn't done yet.

“Wanna know a fact about the Black Mamba?” Rhea asked, not caring if Valerie answered or not, Rhea pushed her foot deeper into Valerie’s neck as Valerie gasped for air, "The black mamba's venom is highly toxic and the venom is fatal unless antivenom is administered," Rhea continued, her voice steady and calm, a walk in the park compared to the chaos of the moment.

"Whereas the California mountain snake is completely harmless."

She held Valerie's gaze, her foot still pressing down with just enough force to keep her pinned but not causing any permanent damage. "You're the California mountain snake, Valerie. You're harmless. All bark, no bite."

Valerie's eyes blazed with fury as she tried to breath, but she couldn't break free. Rhea had proven herself in that instant swift, decisive, and dangerous. The venom in her words and actions was enough to send a message.

Rhea stepped back, releasing Valerie from her hold and allowing her to roll over, gasping for air.

"Get up, and get out of my sight. I don't have time for your petty games."

Valerie's face was a mixture of pain and rage, but she didn't make a move to attack again. She knew she was beaten, for now. Slowly, she pushed herself off the ground, wiping the dirt from her face and glaring at Rhea with a mix of hatred and grudging respect.

Rhea didn't have time for this. She had bigger things to worry about than Valerie and her jealousy. The world she was stepping into with Morris was more dangerous than anything Valerie could throw at her. She had to stay focused, and she couldn't afford to lose control.

As she walked away, she heard Valerie's voice behind her, weak but venomous: "This isn't over, Black Mamba."

Rhea didn't turn around. She didn't need to.

—

The atmosphere in the car was suffocating, a quiet storm brewing between Rhea and Demetri. The tension had been building all night, and now, it was about to explode. As the car came to a stop in front of their apartment, neither of them made a move to get out. Instead, they sat there in the silence, the weight of unspoken words filling the space between them.

Demetri finally broke the silence, his voice sharp and filled with a dangerous edge. “Do you still love me?”

Rhea turned to face him, her face calm but her eyes betraying a flicker of unease. “Of course,” she said simply, her tone even.

But it wasn’t enough for him.

Without warning, Demetri’s hand shot out, slamming her head against the car’s window. The sound of the impact echoed through the car, the glass cracking under the force. Rhea let out a sharp gasp, her vision blurring for a moment as pain radiated from the side of her head.

Demetri leaned in closer, his face twisted with rage. “Why do you keep testing me?” he hissed, his voice low and venomous as he grabbed her arm with a tight grip.

Rhea, swallowing the pain and forcing herself to stay composed, met his gaze with steely defiance. “I have to make sure Morris is happy,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice steady despite the situation. “Because if he’s not, your little fentanyl runs won’t stay on the hush. Remember that? The runs you promised to stop doing for him after we both got arrested.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, the tension in the car thick enough to cut with a knife. Demetri’s grip on her arm tightened as he processed what she said, his nostrils flaring with barely-contained fury.

“You think you’re so smart,” he spat, his tone dripping with mockery. “Always playing the game, always making moves like you’re ten steps ahead.”

Rhea didn’t flinch, her gaze locked on his. “I’m not playing, Demetri. I’m surviving. And if you want to keep your operation intact, you’ll back off and let me handle things the way I need to.”

For a moment, Demetri just stared at her, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with anger. Then, without another word, he released her arm and sat back in his seat, his breathing heavy. The silence between them was deafening, but Rhea didn’t dare move or say anything else.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Demetri reached for the door handle and got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Rhea took a shaky breath, her head still throbbing from where it had hit the glass. She glanced at the cracked window and then at her reflection, the faint outline of her face distorted by the fracture.

She couldn’t afford to let this shake her. Not now. Morris had made it clear what he expected from her, and she couldn’t afford to fail. Demetri’s anger was just one more obstacle she had to navigate. But deep down, she knew that this game they were all playing was becoming more dangerous by the day. One wrong move, and everything could come crashing down.

Rhea gathered herself, forcing the pain and fear into the back of her mind, and stepped out of the car. The night wasn’t over yet, and she had to be ready for whatever came next.

Rhea opened the apartment door, and the tension in the air hit her immediately. Demetri sat on the couch, leaning back casually, but the malice in his expression was unmistakable. Her eyes dropped to what was next to him—her money. A sick feeling churned in her stomach as she saw him flick open a lighter, holding it dangerously close to a stack of hundred-dollar bills.

“You don’t think I know what you do with your money?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery.

Rhea felt her blood boil, her fists clenching at her sides. “Whatever you’re doing,” she said through gritted teeth, “don’t fucking do it.”

Demetri’s lips curled into a cruel smirk. “You think I don’t know, huh? Mrs. Bennett has aggressive breast cancer, and your dear old daddy, Mr. Bennett, can’t afford the treatments. That’s why you’ve been so busy playing Morris’ lapdog, isn’t it?”

Rhea froze, her heart pounding in her chest. The walls she had carefully built around her secrets were crumbling, and Demetri’s words struck like a dagger. How the hell did he know? She had done everything in her power to keep her family’s struggles hidden from him, to keep her two worlds separate.

“Shut up,” she spat, her voice cold and sharp. She crossed the room, her anger boiling over as she raised her hand to strike him.

But Demetri was faster. With ruthless precision, he kicked her mid-motion, sending her sprawling backward. Rhea hit the floor hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She struggled to get her bearings, but Demetri was already towering over her, his presence suffocating.

“I brought you into this world,” he sneered, his voice filled with venom. “And I can take you out, Black Mamba.”

He threw the stack of money at her face, the bills scattering around her like fallen leaves. Rhea stared up at him, her body aching and her pride bruised, but her eyes still burned with defiance.

Demetri stood there for a moment, as if daring her to make a move. When she didn’t, he scoffed and grabbed his jacket. “You should’ve known better than to cross me,” he said coldly before walking to the door.

He paused in the doorway, looking back at her one last time. “You think you’re untouchable, but you’re not. Don’t forget that.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Rhea alone in the wreckage of their confrontation. She sat on the floor, the scattered money around her a bitter reminder of everything she was fighting for—and everything she stood to lose. Her body throbbed from the impact, but she refused to let herself cry. Not here, not now.

She slowly pushed herself to her feet, her hands trembling as she gathered the money from the floor. Every dollar, every ounce of effort she’d poured into keeping her family safe, felt like it was slipping through her fingers. But she wasn’t going to let Demetri—or anyone—take it from her.

As she stood there, battered but not broken, she made herself a promise: once her mother was better, she would find a way out of this.

—

March 30, 2019.

Morris stood with a satisfied grin as his shipments were unloaded into the warehouse. The efficiency and precision of the operation pleased him, and he turned to Rhea, his Black Mamba, with pride. He leaned in, planting a firm kiss on her lips, and said in Polish, “You have done extremely well.”

Rhea closed her eyes, the weight of the past week pressing down on her like a stone. She nodded, but the usual confidence and fire in her demeanor were absent. Morris, ever the observer, caught the subtle shift in her body language.

“What is wrong, my beautiful Mamba?” he asked in English, his tone softer than usual, though still edged with authority.

Rhea hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her leather jacket. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

Morris frowned, his sharp eyes scanning her face for answers she wasn’t offering. “Come to the car,” he said firmly, taking her hand and leading her away from the warehouse.

Rhea followed him silently, the tension between them palpable. Once inside the sleek black car, Morris closed the door behind her and leaned back in his seat, studying her. The quiet hum of the engine filled the space, but the air was thick with unspoken words.

“Rhea,” Morris began, his voice low but commanding, “you know better than to hide things from me. Whatever it is, you will tell me.”

Rhea looked out the window, avoiding his gaze. She could feel his eyes boring into her, demanding the truth. Finally, she sighed and turned to him, her voice trembling as she said, “It’s Demetri.”

Morris raised an eyebrow, his expression darkening. “What about him?”

“He… he found out about the money I’ve been sending to my parents,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And he… he hurt me.”

Morris’s jaw tightened, his hand clenching into a fist on the armrest. “He hurt you?” he repeated, his voice dangerously calm.

Rhea nodded, her fingers brushing over the faint bruise on her temple. “It’s fine,” she said quickly, trying to downplay it. “I handled it.”

Morris let out a low, humorless chuckle. “No, my Mamba, it is not fine. That scum laid hands on you? He thinks he can disrespect me like that?”

“Morris, please,” Rhea said, her voice urgent. “Just leave it alone. I can handle him. I don’t want things to escalate.”

Morris turned to her, his dark eyes gleaming with an icy determination. “You’re mine, Rhea. And no one—no one—harms what is mine without consequences.”

Rhea felt a chill run down her spine. She knew what Morris was capable of, and while a part of her wanted Demetri to pay for what he’d done, another part feared what Morris’s version of justice would look like.

“Morris,” she began, her voice steady but pleading, “just promise me you won’t do anything reckless.”

He reached out, cupping her face gently but firmly. “You’re strong, Rhea. I’ve always admired that about you. But there are battles you shouldn’t have to fight alone. Let me take care of this.”

Rhea closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. She knew there was no arguing with him when he made up his mind. “Just… don’t kill him,” she said softly.

Morris smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’ll make no promises, my Mamba. But for you, I’ll try to be… merciful.”

Morris leaned in closer, his hand still gently cradling Rhea's face. He kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers as if claiming her in a way only he could. Rhea hesitated, her mind spinning, but she didn't pull away.

When the kiss ended, she looked at him, her voice trembling but curious. "Why do you kiss me, Morris?"

Morris smiled, his expression a mixture of possession and affection. "Because, my Mamba, I take pride in the things I own. I cherish them. I cherish you."

Before Rhea could respond, Morris leaned in again, his lips capturing hers with more intensity.

This time, Rhea gave in, wrapping her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened. Morris pulled the twenty two year old drug pusher on to his lap as his hands roamed her body. The weight of her troubles seemed to dissolve, if only for a fleeting moment, as the car began to move. She had unleashed something she wasn’t sure she could control, and the line between protection and destruction was growing thinner by the second.

The two continued to make out as the city lights blurred outside the window, the sleek black car carrying them off into the night.

—

After Morris dropped Rhea off at her and Demetri’s apartment, he made his way back to Vices. The city’s underworld heart beat loudly here, and it wasn’t just the music echoing that kept the place alive. Morris stepped into his office through the back entryway, the familiar scent of cigar smoke lingering in the air. But he froze when he saw her.

Valerie, aka California Mountain Snake, leaned casually against the desk, her eyes narrowed as she assessed him. “Where have you been?” she asked, her voice dripping with an edge of suspicion.

Morris stood still for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Now, Val’, you don’t get to ask questions,” he said coolly, his tone laced with an authority that made it clear this conversation was about to turn.

Valerie stepped forward, a smirk playing on her lips. “Are you with that bitch?” she sneered, eyes flicking to the direction of Rhea, her name a venomous whisper on Valerie’s tongue.

Without a word, Morris moved so fast that Valerie barely saw it coming. His hand shot out, grabbing her by the throat, lifting her off the ground with a strength that belied his calm demeanor. He slammed her against the wall, his eyes burning with fury.

“You don’t talk about Mamba like that,” Morris growled, his grip tightening. “Understand?”

Valerie’s eyes flared with both anger and fear as she clawed at his hand, struggling to break free. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, but she managed to force out through clenched teeth, “You’re a damn fool if you think I’m gonna let her control you.”

Morris didn’t flinch. “No one controls me, Val’,” he spat. “But she’s my creation, and you’ll never disrespect my creation again.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was Valerie’s labored breathing, her fear now apparent. Then, with one last squeeze, Morris released her, letting her drop to the floor. Valerie coughed, wiping at her throat as she stood up slowly.

“Don’t forget who made you,” he added, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t need to remind you what happens when loyalty’s questioned.”

Valerie glared up at him, her pride still unbroken, but she knew better than to challenge him further. “You’re losing your touch, Morris,” she muttered under her breath, but she kept her distance now.

Morris didn’t respond. He simply turned and walked to his desk, his back to her. “Get out of my office.”

—

March 31st, 2019.

“Viper… before you go… sit down,” Morris’s voice cut through the thick air, sharp and commanding.

Demetri’s eyes flicked toward Brent, Thomas, and Adam, signaling them to leave the room. Without protest, the men filed out, knowing better than to question their boss’s orders.

Demetri sat down in front of Morris, his posture tense, as he watched Morris slowly light his cigar. The flicker of the flame illuminated Morris’s face, casting long, deep shadows that made his expression even more menacing. The scent of tobacco filled the air as Morris exhaled a thick plume of smoke, his gaze never leaving Demetri.

“Mamba tells me you’ve hit her,” Morris said, his tone unhurried but cold, like a slow-burning fuse waiting to explode.

Demetri shifted slightly in his seat, the tension in the room palpable. His lips curled into a small, almost indifferent smile as he replied, “I’ve been known to correct her from time to time. And so what?” His voice carried a sense of arrogance, as though he didn’t fear the consequences.

Morris’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a barely noticeable sneer. “So what? You’ve got a temper, Viper, and she’s mine. You don’t lay a finger on what belongs to me.”

Demetri scoffed, leaning back in his seat, looking at Morris like he was nothing more than a nuisance. “Why do you care, Morris? You have Valerie at your hand and lap every night. Why the hell do you want my girl?”

The question lingered in the room, sharp and biting. Morris’s eyes flicked with something dangerous, and for a brief moment, it seemed like the weight of Demetri’s words hit him. But then, without missing a beat, Morris leaned forward slightly, his voice low and ominous.

“She’s my creation,” Morris said, his words deliberate and heavy. “I’ll be damned if I let you kill my creation because you can’t stand the fact that she’s better than every single snake I own.”

Demetri’s jaw tightened, but his eyes never wavered. He wasn’t going to back down. “She’s my girl, Morris. You don’t control her like you think you do.”

Morris inhaled deeply from his cigar, his expression unreadable, before exhaling with a slow, calculated breath. “I created the Black Mamba,” he said quietly, almost to himself, but loud enough for Demetri to hear. “And I’ll make sure she stays mine, no matter who tries to claim her.”

Demetri’s fists clenched, but he didn’t respond immediately. The silence between them was suffocating, thick with the weight of the threat that hung in the air.

Finally, Morris broke the silence, his voice colder than ever. “You think you can keep her in line? You think you can control her? You’re mistaken.” His eyes burned with an intensity that made Demetri feel small. “She is untouchable..”

The words were a promise, and Demetri could feel the chill of them sink deep into his bones. The room felt colder, heavier, like the walls were closing in.

“You.. however you are not untouchable, Viper,” Morris added, leaning back and taking another drag from his cigar. “And don’t think for a second that I’ll let you ruin my creation because of your own insecurities.”

Demetri stood up, his hand brushing against the edge of the desk, the tension between them crackling in the air like electricity. “We’re done here,” he muttered, turning to leave.

Before he reached the door, Morris called out. “I brought you into this world, I can take you out of it.”

Demetri froze at the door, his back to Morris, but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to.

The door swung open, and Demetri stepped out, his mind racing as the weight of Morris’s words settled in. He didn’t fear Morris, but he knew better than to ignore a man like him.

As Demetri left, Morris sat back in his chair, the smoke curling from his cigar like tendrils of a dark promise. His eyes glinted with cold satisfaction. There was no doubt in his mind that the Black Mamba would remain his—one way or another.

—

As Demetri stepped out of the office, the weight of the conversation with Morris hung heavily on his shoulders. His thoughts churned as he made his way through the club, the lights flashing and the music thumping around him. He felt a fleeting gaze from across the room, and when he looked up, he saw Valerie.

Their eyes locked for a moment—silent, but full of understanding. Valerie’s lips curled into a smile, one that seemed to carry an unspoken invitation. Demetri’s expression remained unreadable, but he quickly broke the gaze, his mind still heavy with the conversation he’d just had. He turned and walked toward the exit, his thoughts pulling him in different directions.

As he stepped outside, the cool night air hit him, but it did little to clear his head. He climbed into his car and started the engine, the rumble of the engine barely cutting through the fog in his mind. He shifted the car into drive and began to pull away from the club.

But just as he was about to merge into the street, a knock on his window startled him. Demetri glanced over, and there she was again—Valerie, standing just outside, her hand waving in the air.

With a reluctant sigh, Demetri rolled down the window. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice still laced with the remnants of tension.

Valerie leaned against the car, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Mind if you give me a ride?” she asked, her tone casual, though there was something more in the way she said it.

Demetri hesitated for a second, but his instincts were already pulling him in a familiar direction. “Sure,” he replied, unlocking the door.

Valerie slid into the passenger seat, her perfume lingering in the air as she settled beside him. The drive to her apartment was silent, the air between them charged with unspoken words. The streets blurred by, but all Demetri could think about was the tension that had built up between them ever since that first glance.

When they reached her apartment, the car came to a halt. The engine hummed softly, and for a brief moment, neither of them moved. The silence hung between them, thick and heavy.

Finally, Valerie turned to Demetri, her expression softening. She reached for him, pulling him into a kiss that was intense, passionate, and without words. It was as if the kiss spoke for everything that had been building between them—everything they hadn’t said, everything they hadn’t acknowledged.

Their lips met with a hunger, a desire that neither had fully admitted to before. The kiss was fiery, reckless, and full of the kind of passion that could only come from a hidden affair—one that neither of them could resist.

When they pulled apart, breathless, Demetri looked at Valerie, his heart racing. Without a word, she slipped out of the car and walked toward her apartment, her hips swaying with a sense of seduction.

Demetri sat there for a moment, his thoughts a whirlwind, he then reached over in his glovebox and grabbed a condom and exited his car. That kiss and night marked the beginning of something he knew would be dangerous, something he couldn’t quite turn away from.

And so began their two-year affair—one full of secrets, lies, and the kind of forbidden passion that neither of them could resist.

—

April 2nd, 2019.

Rhea stretched her arms above her head, yawning as she shook off the exhaustion from another long night. The fluorescent lights of the Performance Center cast a harsh glow on the ring where she had been training with Liv and Tegan. Liv, always the one to notice, raised an eyebrow.

“Long night?” she asked, leaning against the ropes.

Rhea nodded, letting out another tired yawn. “Yeah, could have used some melatonin to sleep,” she replied with a small chuckle. She moved to the side of the ring, rubbing her eyes.

Before Liv could respond, a familiar voice interrupted. “Rhea, can I talk to you?”

Rhea turned, recognizing Bayley walking toward her.

“Sure,” Rhea said, offering a polite nod as she slid out of the ring. Liv and Tegan exchanged a curious glance but didn’t press further as they continued their own conversation.

Bayley followed Rhea down the hallway into the locker room, where the two were alone. The air was thick with the silence of the quiet space, a contrast to the energy of the training floor outside.

“I need somas,” Bayley said bluntly, looking at Rhea with a mixture of seriousness and desperation in her eyes.

Rhea sighed. “How many?”

“Twenty,” Bayley replied without hesitation.

Rhea rolled her eyes but didn’t comment on it. Instead, she reached into her gym bag and began pulling out the pills. She counted them carefully as she spoke. “Two hundred.”

Bayley dug into her pocket and pulled out two crisp $100 bills, handing them over to Rhea without a second thought. The exchange felt transactional, cold even. Rhea handed over the pills, the transaction complete.

Bayley paused, looking at Rhea for a moment longer than necessary, almost as if she was trying to read her.

“Thanks,” Bayley said, her tone softer now, though still carrying a hint of something more—something Rhea couldn’t quite place. She took the pills and turned to leave, but not before pausing at the door. “You know, sometimes people get too caught up in their own shit. But you seem to always have a way of handling yours.”

Rhea’s eyes narrowed slightly, unsure whether it was meant as an insult or an odd compliment. Before she could respond, Bayley was gone, leaving the door to swing shut behind her.

Rhea stood there for a moment, pondering what had just transpired. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was at play—something deeper than just a simple transaction. Bayley’s words stuck with her, lingering in her mind.

But for now, Rhea shook it off, turning back to rejoin Liv and Tegan. She had more important things to focus on—like the grueling training that was waiting for her, and the chaos of her life outside of the ring.

—

Flashback April 13th, 2019.

Rhea rolled her eyes as the call came over the loudspeaker, signaling the next round of drug tests. She had been through this routine countless times, but it didn’t make it any less annoying. She grabbed the plastic cup from the nurse, walking with an air of impatience toward the bathroom stalls.

Inside the stall, she quickly relieved herself, filling the cup as needed before wiping it off and washing her hands. The sound of running water echoed in the small, sterile space as she prepared to hand over the sample. Once done, she opened the stall door, grabbed the cup, and made her way back toward the waiting area.

The doctor didn’t say much as he took the cup from her, inspecting it briefly before nodding. Rhea sat down, her eyes scanning the room of NXT Superstars and recruits who were all waiting for their turn.

Across the room, Shawn Michaels, the Heartbreak Kid himself, stood with his arms crossed, eyes sharp as he surveyed the room full of talent. His voice rang out with a level of authority that commanded attention.

“The sooner the person is caught,” he said, looking over the group, “the sooner these tests end.”

Rhea kept her expression neutral, but inside, a wry smirk tugged at her lips. She knew what Shawn was implying—he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the frequency of these tests either. Still, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the truth in his words. The people who were guilty of using would eventually be exposed, and there was nothing they could do to prevent it.

Of course, Rhea didn’t get caught. She was far too careful for that, even though she was the one supplying drugs to both Tegan and Bayley. It was something she kept close to her chest, a hidden part of her life that not even the most perceptive eyes could pry into. While others might think the tests were a nuisance, Rhea simply saw them as an inconvenience—a small price to pay for her control over the others, especially Tegan and Bayley.

As the testing continued, Rhea’s mind drifted, thinking of all the ways she had managed to keep the truth hidden. No one suspected her—she had perfected the art of playing the game.

—

March 23, 2021.

Rhea stood in front of Morris, her gaze steady but filled with a certain edge. She had been feeling the pressure for some time now, and she knew this conversation couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to secure her position.

“I need your help,” Rhea said, her voice low but demanding.

Morris glanced up from his desk, eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her words. “Speak, Mamba.”

Rhea paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts before she continued, the weight of the situation evident in her expression. “I don’t feel safe anymore,” she said, her voice steady, but there was a flicker of concern behind her eyes. “These shipments… moving product from Arizona with Demetri… it’s getting too risky. People are starting to talk, and I need to make sure you’re still giving me the stability I was promised, it’s been almost two years and every year I feel like it’s getting worse.”

Morris didn’t respond immediately, his gaze hardening as he considered her words. He knew Rhea didn’t come to him unless it was serious. He could feel the unease in her voice, something he wasn’t used to seeing from her. But he wasn’t about to show vulnerability. After a moment, he exhaled, leaning back in his chair with an almost predatory look in his eyes.

“How about I make you a deal?” he said, his voice smooth but with an edge that matched hers. “I’ll protect you from whoever—whoever’s after you—and you just focus on moving my money and my toys.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. “I thought I was already doing that,” she responded, crossing her arms as she leaned slightly against the edge of his desk.

Morris let out a quiet chuckle, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Different toys, different money,” he said cryptically, clearly not just talking about the regular shipments they’d been working with. There was something more to this, something more dangerous.

Rhea frowned but didn’t say anything, waiting for him to elaborate.

“You have an Australian passport, don’t you?” Morris asked, leaning forward slightly as he locked eyes with her. “I need you to take flights to Australia and then from there to Switzerland. There’s business to attend to. Sensitive business.”

Rhea’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Switzerland—she knew that was where some of the bigger operations were run, the kind that involved laundering money and handling international transactions that were too clean for anyone to trace.

She studied Morris for a moment, his expression unreadable. The deal sounded like it would give her a bit of breathing room, but at what cost?

“Why me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “Why not send someone else? Someone who’s expendable?”

Morris looked at her, his smile disappearing into a cold stare. “Because you’re Mamba,” he said, his tone hardening. “And I don’t trust anyone else with this. You’ve proven yourself, and you’re in too deep now for anyone else to get involved. You’re the only one who can handle it.”

Rhea considered his words for a moment, her mind racing. The stakes were higher than ever. But she had come this far, and backing out now wasn’t an option. She had built her place in this world, and she wasn’t about to lose it.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice steady. “I’ll do it. But I’m going to need a lot more protection than just your word, Morris.”

He stood up and walked around his desk, placing a hand on her shoulder in a gesture that was both intimate and possessive. “You’ll have it,” he said. “And when you come back, you’ll have more than just your stability.”

Rhea met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words sink in. She didn’t trust him completely—she never had—but in this game, she didn’t have the luxury of trust. She needed control, and this deal, dangerous as it was, might be the only way she could secure it.

As she turned to leave the room, Morris called out, his voice tinged with a promise. “I’ll be watching, Mamba. Don’t forget that.”

—

August 1st, 2018 - Orlando, Florida Airport

Rhea’s heart skipped a beat as she heard the voice of the airport security officer behind her. “Excuse me, ma’am, will you come with me?”

She glanced around, feeling the weight of the moment press on her. The terminal was crowded, but the eyes on her made it feel as though she was the only person in the room. Calmly, she turned to face the officer. “What is this for?”

The officer didn’t answer directly. Instead, he simply motioned for her to follow. Rhea knew better than to resist. There were too many eyes in the airport, and too many consequences if things went wrong.

They walked through the busy terminal, past the food courts and stores, until they arrived at a small, secluded room. It felt like a scene out of one of those old crime movies. The officers who followed her in were quiet, scanning her every move as they informed her they had reason to believe she was carrying drugs from her recent flight from Arizona.

Rhea kept her face neutral as the words hit her. She had been smart. She had switched bags with the other runner before leaving the airport in Arizona. The bag she carried now wasn’t the one that could incriminate her. She just needed to keep her cool.

They proceeded to dump her belongings onto the table. Rhea’s eyes locked onto her suitcase as the officers tore it open, rifling through her things. They weren’t looking for clothes—they were looking for something much worse. They opened the briefcase next, spilling out papers, checks, and a few personal items. But there was nothing that could get her caught. They found no drugs.

After several minutes of searching, the officers exchanged glances and then turned to Rhea. “You’re free to go,” one of them said curtly, clearly frustrated that they had come up empty-handed.

Rhea’s expression remained composed as she nodded and grabbed her things. As she walked out of the small room, the weight of the close call still felt like a tangible presence around her. But just as she was about to pass through the door, she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. It was the other runner—the one who had been part of the plan. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, and Rhea felt a chill run through her.

The runner’s gaze was filled with suspicion. He knew. He knew she had switched the bags.

Without hesitation, Rhea acted on instinct. She quickly darted back to the bag she had just been cleared of and switched it once again, making sure she had the right one this time. She didn’t trust anyone in this game—not even those who worked alongside her.

Rhea slipped through the door, making her way toward the taxi stand. Her pulse was still racing, but she pushed the fear down. She couldn’t afford to make a scene now. She needed to get out of here before anyone started asking too many questions.

She jumped into the first available cab, gave the driver a quick address, and watched the city blur past her as the cab sped toward her apartment. Her mind raced with the close call she had just dodged. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone else figured out her trick, but for now, she had survived.

The taxi pulled up in front of her and Demetri’s apartment, and she quickly paid the driver. Rhea grabbed the bags and headed inside, relieved to be back in a place where she could catch her breath.

Demetri was already home, and she handed him the bags without saying a word. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask any questions. He knew what she had been up to. He always did.

“These go to Morris,” she said, her voice flat. Demetri didn’t reply, just nodded, taking the bags from her hands.

Rhea stood there for a moment, watching him leave. Her eyes drifted toward the window, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

She had been lucky today. But next time? Who knew how close she’d come to being caught.

Rhea turned away from the window and sat down on the couch, the weight of the close call pressing down on her chest. She had been in the game long enough to know how dangerous it was, but something inside her was starting to shift. Maybe it was the anxiety of nearly getting caught. Maybe it was the constant tension of living in this world.

But tonight, she knew one thing for sure: she was done. The close call at the airport, the fear that had surged through her veins—it was all too much.

She needed to speak to Morris.

—

October 26th, 2018

Rhea sat in the passenger seat of Demetri’s car, staring out the window, her nerves frayed. The air felt thick with tension as they waited. The man they were about to deal with had just pulled up, his old, weathered car screeching to a halt on the side of the road. Rhea couldn’t shake the unease that crawled up her spine. Something about him just didn’t sit right.

“I don’t like this,” Rhea muttered, her voice low but heavy with concern.

Demetri, leaning back in his seat, glanced over at her with a reassuring smile, though his eyes were watchful. “Babe… it’s not like we haven’t done these a million times before.”

Rhea shook her head, still feeling that nagging discomfort. She glanced back at the man approaching them, his steps slow but deliberate. “He looks funky,” she said, her voice tinged with suspicion.

Demetri let out a soft chuckle, trying to ease her nerves. “Trust me, Mamba, he’s just another buyer…… How much?”

The man came to a stop next to the car, and his eyes met Demetri’s. “50,” he said, his voice calm but cold. “I need 50 of them.”

Demetri gave a quick nod, signaling Rhea to grab the bag. “Got it,” she replied, her fingers already moving to the backseat, reaching into the duffel bag that sat on the floor between them. She pulled out the bag filled with the pills and she handed it to Demetri.

He took the bag, counting out fifty fentanyl pills with expert precision. The man’s gaze didn’t waver as Demetri passed him the pills. But as soon as the exchange was made, everything went sideways.

Without warning, the man pulled out a badge from inside his jacket, flashing it in front of them with a swift motion. He followed it up by pulling a gun from the waistband of his pants, leveling it at Demetri. “Orlando Gang Enforcement,” he declared, his voice firm and commanding. “You’re under arrest.”

Rhea’s heart stopped in her chest. She hadn’t seen this coming. Everything had happened so fast, so quietly, but now there was no escaping it. The sense of betrayal hit her like a punch to the gut. She looked at Demetri, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What the hell is this?”

Demetri’s face hardened, a mix of shock and anger flashing in his eyes, but he didn’t make any sudden moves. He knew the game was up. The weight of the situation was sinking in, but Rhea’s panic was still rising. Her mind raced with thoughts of how they had just been set up, how it was all too perfect—too calculated.

“Hands where I can see them,” the officer ordered, his voice unyielding as he kept the gun trained on Demetri. “You’re both under arrest for trafficking, distribution and conspiracy to distrubute. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Rhea’s hands trembled, but she kept them still, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She wanted to argue, to fight back, but she knew better. There was no escaping now.

Demetri didn’t say a word. His jaw clenched as the officer cuffed him, his eyes flashing toward Rhea, trying to communicate some kind of reassurance. But Rhea couldn’t read it. She didn’t know if he was angry, scared, or just resigned to their fate.

The officer then turned his attention to her, jerking her out of her seat by the arm. “Move,” he snapped, as he shoved her toward the back of the car, the lights from the surrounding vehicles flashing in her eyes.

Everything happened in a blur of flashing lights, harsh voices, and the weight of the cuffs around her wrists. The last thing Rhea remembered as they both were shoved into separate cars was Demetri’s eyes, angry and defeated. She felt her heart pound in her chest, her mind spinning. The calm life they’d tried to carve out in the midst of chaos was crumbling, and Rhea knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just another close call.

This time, they were caught.

—

October 27th, 2018

The drive back to their apartment was long and silent. The lawyer, who had arranged for their release, kept his eyes on the road, glancing in the rearview mirror occasionally. Demetri sat in the back, his face unreadable, but Rhea could feel the tension radiating off of him. She sat stiffly beside him, her body sore from the night in jail, her mind still reeling from the encounter with the Gang Enforcement. The charges they faced were serious, and despite the lawyer’s confidence in getting them off, Rhea couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled in her stomach.

As they pulled up to their apartment, the lawyer turned around, offering a brief nod. “You’re free for now, but don’t get comfortable. The DA will want to see you both in court. Be ready,” he warned before pulling away, leaving them standing in the dim light of the parking lot.

Rhea and Demetri didn’t exchange a word as they made their way into the building. The weight of the situation hung heavily between them, and as they entered the apartment, the door barely shutting behind them, the tension finally broke.

“That was your fault,” Demetri said, his voice cold, almost flat.

Rhea’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you talking about?” she snapped, her body stiffening as she turned to face him.

Demetri stepped toward her with a dangerous calm. “If you hadn’t been so careless, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now. You couldn’t keep your cool, could you? You just had to get caught, didn’t you?” His words stung with venom, each one carrying a deeper resentment than Rhea had ever seen in him before.

Before she could react, Demetri grabbed a baseball bat that had been leaning against the wall. The room seemed to slow down, and Rhea’s breath caught in her throat as she realized what was about to happen.

In one swift movement, Demetri swung the bat toward Rhea. It hit her with a sickening thud against her neck and shoulder, the impact jolting through her body. The pain was immediate, searing, and Rhea gasped, her knees buckling as she struggled to stay upright.

“You’re nothing but a worthless wrestler,” Demetri spat, his words cutting deeper than the physical blow. “Morris’ prized Mamba, trying to be a big and bad drug dealer. You couldn’t even handle that.”

Rhea staggered backward, her vision blurring slightly from the pain, but she didn’t fall. She clenched her teeth, fighting to keep her composure, despite the hurt that ran through her body.

She had expected a lot of things from Demetri—anger, frustration—but this? This was a denial in its purest form.

“Demetri,” she said, her voice strained and shaky, but her eyes were cold. “You better believe I didn’t get caught on purpose. You want to blame me for all of this, fine. But you know damn well that we were both in this together.”

Demetri’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the bat as he took a step toward her. “Don’t talk back to me, Mamba,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “You made a mistake, and now you’ll pay for it.”

Rhea stood her ground, her body trembling but not from fear. The fire inside her had ignited. She wasn’t about to let him break her. Not like this.

“I’m not the one who messed up,” Rhea retorted, her voice rising. “You were the one who got sloppy. You were the one who trusted the wrong guy. So, don’t you dare blame me for everything that’s gone wrong.”

Demetri’s eyes flashed with rage, but something in his expression faltered as he took in her defiant stance. He didn’t say anything more. Instead, he dropped the bat, letting it fall to the floor with a loud clatter. Rhea didn’t move, still watching him carefully, her hand pressed against her neck, trying to quell the burning pain.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence in the room was thick with unspoken words, anger, and unresolved tension.

Finally, Demetri turned away, his back to her, and Rhea knew in that moment that things were different. Whatever bond they had before was shattered, replaced by something darker and more dangerous.

“I’ll deal with Morris,” Demetri muttered as he walked away, his voice cold and distant. “You stay out of it.”

Rhea didn’t answer. Instead, she allowed the tears that had been threatening to fall to stream down her face.

[dirthamen-enjoyer]

please remember that this is all my personal thoughts and i might be wrong about some of the things. it is critical. this started off as one specific topic about solas and then ended up turning into more of a ramble. i guess? anyways spoilers for veilguard under the keep reading line.

i wish my brain worked properly sometimes because i really want to know why i feel like they didn't write solas cohesively enough. to me, he is the best part of datv. and no, it's not because i romanced him in inquisition. actually, i could never finish his romance because he was such a know-it-all and it would annoy me lol. (it's because i'm a know-it-all and know-it-alls tend to clash. i plan on forcing myself through it one day though.) despite him annoying me, i liked him as a character. i liked his reveal, the moral greyness of him.

i think mainly my problem is how they presented his morals and why he wants to tear down the veil. it feels like they couldn't decide how to focus him. so originally he's tearing down the veil because it was a mistake and wants the world to go back to the way it was so the days of the ancient elves - specifically after the evanuris are gone - could return, at least that's what i got from it.

then at the beginning of veilguard, it suddenly it feels like tearing the veil down is just a byproduct of him needing to move the last of the evanuris to a better prison. huh? in my head i always thought that solas was ready to fight the evanuris when the veil is brought down because he's willing to take the risk of dealing with them just to bring the old world back. maybe that's too headcanon-y? also i never got around to reading the books or comics fully so i might have missed some details.

then at the end it's "i must do this for mythal or her sacrifice would be for nothing" or whatever he said. huh? i don't get why it's suddenly about mythal, even with the regret murals showing how close they were. it should be about him and all he sacrificed, only for it to not go the way he wanted. without even talking about what was revealed in the regrets murals, he sacrificed the world he knew to lock the evanuris (and forgotten ones) away to try and make life better for the common elves, the slaves.

i don't know how well that last paragraph comes off. i'm just saying that it felt like it didn't belong. his whole story is about regrets, yes. makes sense. he regrets the events that happened because of the veil mistakenly happening. he regrets what's in the murals (which i might talk about in another post because :/) but the game acts like him tearing down the veil is just selfish. there's no other nuance there, it's just selfish. huh? there is so much nuance to this position, in my opinion, that i can't even figure out how to write it.

okay so i've officially lost my train of thought about this original topic, which means i don't know what else to put. i'll just say that i feel dumb that i don't understand it while it feels like everyone else does. also i don't understand why i dislike how everything ended for him. it was like someone punched me when lost elf started playing because this ending didn't feel right. and i don't know why. (that one ending... "i am a god!" bffr he would NAWT FUCKING say that.)

also let me just quickly state that i do not think they should have made the evanuris, and elves, originally spirits. it takes away the fantasy in a the fantasy story, is the best way to say it. i know it sounds weird, but... mysteries are good. not everything needs an explanation. we could have had the mystery of "what were the evanuris?" if they kept them as just gods instead of explaining them. just have the reveal be that the gods weren't good to their subjects and are all-powerful. no need to explain all the time.

this has nothing to do with how much i wanted to fight actual gods (i did. i wanted to go up against actual gods other than the archdemons. and we know that reveal :/ ) or even how much more impactful it would have made solas's history.

[naamahdarling]

I cannot BELIEVE I am making progress on training Fancy to "sneeze" on command!

It looks sort of like shaking her head no, so I'm not sure what verbal cue to use. Do I use "sneeze" or "achoo!" or do I train it in as potentially part of a funny "dialogue" during a performance? "Ya think?" "*sneezes NO*"

I really like them both!

Here she is looking regal and not like a shop towel, btw:

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

I've said it before, I'll say it again, and I'm sure it won't be the last time. I AM SICK AND BLOODY TIRED OF THESE MFS, HALF OF WHO DONT EVEN CARE ABOUT CURSED CHILD, BITCHING AND MOANING ABOUT AN ANGSTY TEEN DARING TO BE AN ANGSTY TEEN, I WILL FIGHT THE LOT OF YOU

(this is gonna be a bit long and probably incoherent so sit down and fucking listen to me 🔫 stick with me because I'm not just complaining about albus haters)

eVERYBODY wants cOoMmpllEeXx relatable HUMAN characters - and then SHIT themselves when the flaws a CHILD has isn't just 🥺 uwu im socially awkward and traumatised 🥺. that's why scorpius doesn't get this fuckass treatment, because his terrible human flaw is that he's a bit shit at conversation and gets sad about his dead mum (generalised understatement, but this post isnt about him. dont come for me i love him 🫶🏻)

god forbid albus, who feels unloved and unwanted (with valid evidence for a teenager), albus who feels completely out of place and outcast from his entire famously-close-knit family, ablus who is well known by the world by default via Harry and hates the attention and high expectations, albus who then gets targeted and bullied by his peers because he's not as perfect and brilliant as his father, albus who is then isolated from his one friend because Harry is making irrational ptsd fueled decisions, albus who tells Harry completely sincerely that he knows he's unlikeable but he'll try and change himself and be more like his siblings because he genuinely believes that's what Harry and everyone else whos had the misfortune of meeting him wants, albus who spends the entire play trying to prove himself and fix things via idiotic childish decisions BECAUSE HES A WHOLE UNSTABLE CHILD

god forbid that CHILD doesn't react like a patient, supported, well adjusted, level headed adult. god forbid he reacts outwardly. god forbid he reacts at all, my bad. clearly he should just sniffle a bit as if he doesn't feel suffocated and helpless by everything in his life, because obviously hes just a spoiled brat who doesn't know what real suffering is. god forbid he complains or feels anything negatively, or doesn't quite grasp that other people are struggling too because he is too busy trying so hard to deal with himself and his declining mental health the best he can with basically no support or understanding. god forbid he isn't completely perfect.

you all sound like some fucking boomer telling teenagers they don't know what real struggling is, they aren't mentally ill, they dont have any problems because they have a roof over their head, they should all go to war kids are too soft these days 😫😖😱 fUCKING‼️SHUT UP‼️

he does things wrong but he knows he does and he does everything he can to fix it! and he is fourteen!!! do none of you remember what being fourteen is like 😭😭 I swear half of you have got to be basically fourteen yourselves cmon man

cause I'm seeing this fucking pattern a lot recently. not just for albus, not just in this fandom, everywhere. ‼️ no one can fucking handle flawed characters anymore ‼️ the only thing any character is allowed to have wrong with them is trauma apparently, otherwise they have to be perfect, and I'm getting sick of it. characters and stories are meant to reflect real life, they're meant to help shape our world view, why are you expecting everyone to be fucking perfect??? what happened to nuance? what happened to understanding character development? you are all acting like characters and people are so black and white. either they're perfect or they're insufferable and evil. I won't lie, the most common victims i've noticed of this are women. but the flawed women are typically demonised, whereas the men are typically turned into uwu baby boys who actually aren't capable of doing anything wrong and then fanon goes nuts making them into ittle wittle victims. and I'm so fucking sick of all of it, I hate this. (obviously this is not a strict rule. Albus Potter, and also Albus Dumbledore now I mention it, are demonised beyond belief)

BRING BACK FLAWS AND BRING BACK NOT COMPLETELY WRITING OFF A CHARACTER BECAUSE THEY DARE TO BE HUMAN

I AM FED UP, ALBUS POTTER GET BEHIND ME

[millionsknives]

*starts listening to the thg playlist*

augh -1 health

oof -1 health

ugh! -1 health

mmf -1 health

ugh! -1 health

augh -1 health

etc

GOOD that’s the effect i wanted >:)

[silverselfshippingchaos]

could cozy up to me- ahem