#Pride Month OC Exchange

[lunieloon]

First pride in the PixelVilla. Perplex makes a coming out video because he's ace. Bro outed himself cus he has no idea what else Lukas meant by that.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

woven bonds

pert'ah (orc oc x gn reader) pt 7

tags/warnings- over the time you two have been together his english has gotten better, arranged marriage, human female x male orc, gentle giant, you're finally with him, tattoos, nonsexual marking

When you finally confessed your feelings, Pert'ah reveals a sacred orc tradition: a bond tattoo, symbolising the intertwining of two lives and the strength of their love. As you both journey to the clan’s mark artist, Pert'ah shares the stories behind his own markings, revealing his past and the future he hopes to share with you.

i am begging for someone to give me requests for anything

The warm, flickering firelight cast soft shadows on the walls of the small home you and Pert'ah now shared. You were curled up in a corner, lost in thought, while he sat across from you, his massive form bent slightly as he worked on a weaving project. It had been months since the day your father had sold you into an arranged marriage with the orc weaver, exchanging your life for a political bargain. You had been furious and devastated at first, feeling trapped in a strange world, and you fought hard against your feelings for Pert'ah.

But something had shifted over time. Pert'ah had never been the terrifying brute you expected him to be. Despite his size, his hands were deft, and his voice was soft, even in its broken English. He was patient, showing you kindness you hadn't anticipated. Each day he would bring you food, trying to coax you into eating when you refused, and he spoke softly, attempting to ease your fears and frustrations. Over time, your resentment began to thaw.

It started small—accepting the food he offered, exchanging a few words, and eventually, joining him at his work table. You'd sit there, quietly watching as he wove intricate patterns into cloth, his fingers moving with surprising delicacy for someone so large and imposing. Slowly, you realized that your anger had faded, replaced by something else, something that felt warm and safe,

Now, weeks later, your relationship had settled into a peaceful routine. Tonight, Pert'ah's hands were steady as he worked the loom, but every so often, you caught him glancing up at you, as if he had something on his mind. Eventually, he set down his work and cleared his throat.

"Y'know," he began, his accent still thick but more familiar to your ears now, "in my clan… there is something we do when… we love someone. after we bond." He paused, searching for the right words.

You looked up, curious. "What do you mean?"

His large hand gestured vaguely toward his chest, where his skin was marked with swirling, intricate markings. The patterns wound around his biceps, across his chest, and down his back, each one seemingly part of a larger story. You had noticed them before, of course, but you had never asked about their significance.

"markings," he said, tapping his chest. "They mean much. Each one has… story. Spirit."

You sat up straighter, intrigued. "Like what?"

Pert'ah's eyes flickered with something—perhaps pride, or reverence. "In my culture, we mark our skin to show our life. Our bond to family, to clan, to… love." He paused, letting his words sink in. "When we choose someone… we get marking. One that shows the bond between us."

Your heart skipped a beat. The idea of a marking symbolizing your bond with Pert'ah was unexpected, but the thought of it thrilled you. The permanence of such a mark felt like a declaration of your feelings, something you were no longer afraid to express.

"You mean… you'd get a marking for me?"

Pert'ah nodded slowly. "Yes. And… you, too. If you want."

The weight of his offer settled over you. It wasn't something to be taken lightly, but the thought of carrying a symbol of your love for Pert'ah, of your place in this new world, filled you with a quiet excitement.

"What do they mean?" you asked, your eyes tracing the markings on his skin. "Your markings. What are their stories?"

A small, thoughtful smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back, gesturing for you to come closer. You moved toward him, sitting beside him as he began to speak.

"This one," he pointed to a swirling, knot-like pattern on his forearm, "is for my family. My mother and father, my brothers. It shows where I come from. My roots."

You nodded, your fingers lightly brushing over the design. The lines were bold, yet elegant, winding together in an unbreakable bond.

"And this?" you asked, tracing the edge of a jagged, lightning-like marking that stretched across his chest.

"This one is for battle," he said, his voice taking on a somber tone. "A long time ago, I fought for my clan. This mark is for the fights I survived, the people I lost."

His gaze darkened for a moment, and you squeezed his hand gently, understanding that those memories were difficult for him to revisit.

"But here," he continued, pointing to the pattern that wound around his bicep, "this is for my future. It is not finished yet." He glanced at you, his eyes full of meaning. "When I choose someone to be with for life, the mark will be complete. It will show our bond, our future together."

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the significance of what he was saying. This marking, this incomplete symbol, was waiting for you. And now, he was offering to finish it, to mark himself with a permanent symbol of your love.

"I want it," you whispered, your heart racing with the weight of your decision. "I want to share that bond with you."

Pert'ah's face lit up, his golden eyes shimmering with warmth. "Then I will take you to the marking artist tomorrow," he said softly. "It will be an honor."

---

The next day, Pert'ah guided you to the heart of the orc village, where the marking artist's home was located. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and smoke as you entered the small, dimly lit hut. The artist, an older orc woman with intricate markings covering nearly every inch of her skin, greeted you with a nod, her sharp eyes studying you and Pert'ah carefully.

"You come for bond marking," she said, her voice raspy but kind.

Pert'ah nodded. "Yes. We wish to be marked together."

The artist smiled knowingly and gestured for you to sit on a low bench. She turned to Pert'ah first, inspecting the incomplete design on his arm.

"It is time to finish this one, then," she said, motioning for him to sit as well. She began to mix inks, her hands steady and practiced.

As she prepared, Pert'ah turned to you, his voice low and soft. "Our marking will be special. It will show our bond, but also our strength. Our journey together."

You felt a wave of emotion rise within you as the artist began her work on Pert'ah's skin, her needle carefully tracing the lines of the existing design. He barely flinched, his face serene as he watched the artist work.

"This marking," Pert'ah said quietly, "will show the two paths we took. Yours and mine. They will twist together, become one. Stronger together."

You smiled at his words, touched by the symbolism. "And what about the part for the future?" you asked softly.

His eyes met yours, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache in the best way possible. "That part… will be blank. It is for what we will make together. Our life."

---

When it was your turn, you felt a mix of excitement and nerves. The artist guided you gently, explaining the meaning behind each stroke as she inked the bond marking onto your skin. It was a mirror of Pert'ah's, yet unique to you, representing your own journey.

As the needle pressed into your skin, Pert'ah held your hand, his presence grounding you. The process was both painful and exhilarating, each stroke of the needle reminding you of the permanence of your decision—of the love you had chosen to embrace.

When it was done, the artist stepped back, admiring her work. The bond marking twisted around your arm, the two paths intertwining beautifully, just as Pert'ah had described. At the center, there was a blank space, a place for your future together, waiting to be filled with the stories you would create as a couple.

Pert'ah lifted your arm gently, his fingers tracing the fresh ink with reverence. "It is beautiful," he murmured. "You are beautiful."

You smiled at him, tears pricking your eyes. "So are you," you whispered.

In that moment, you felt a deep sense of belonging, not just to Pert'ah, but to this new life you had built together. The marking was more than just a mark on your shoulder—it was a symbol of your love, your bond, and the future you would share. And you knew, without a doubt, that you had made the right choice.

As you and Pert'ah walked back to your home, your hands entwined, the weight of your shared marking felt both grounding and freeing. You were no longer bound by the past, no longer trapped by the decisions of others. This bond was yours, forged in love, and it would guide you both into whatever the future held.

[yassbishimvintage]

An arranged marriage story between Terry Richmond and an OC, someone he didn’t get along with while growing up.

A/n: Hi. I loved this idea. I feel like I can make this a series.

Today was the day that he was getting married. Arranged by his soon-to-be wife's family. This was something neither he nor she wanted. They never got along. Not ever.

So, he looked himself in the mirror.

Terry Richmond stared hard at his reflection, his jaw clenched as if willing the frustration to dissolve. The suit was pristine—tailored to perfection, a reflection of the wealth and power this union would seal. But it didn’t feel like his suit. It felt like a costume. A disguise meant to cover up how much he wanted to bolt.

He ran his hands over his face and exhaled, trying to shake the feeling of dread knotting his stomach. The voice of his cousin Mike echoed faintly in his mind, from one of their last conversations. “You can’t run from what you don’t want to face, Terry. It’ll follow you.”

Mike wasn’t here anymore, but he wouldn’t have wanted this for Terry. Neither did Terry, if he were honest with himself. Yet here he was, an unwilling pawn in a game between families he had never chosen to play.

“Are you ready?” a voice interrupted from the doorway. It was his best man, trying to keep his tone light, though Terry could hear the unspoken tension. Everyone knew.

Terry didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned from the mirror, straightened his tie, and forced a smirk he didn’t feel. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Because today wasn’t about love. It wasn’t about a future he wanted. It was about survival.

And Terry had always been a survivor.

The music started. A slow, melodic tune drifted through the air, and the quiet murmurs of the guests hushed. Terry inhaled sharply as the heavy oak doors opened, revealing her.

Layla stepped into the room like a queen entering her court. Her dress was a masterpiece, its intricate lacework catching the light and shimmering with every step. Her dark hair was swept into an elegant updo, not a single strand out of place. Layla was always the perfectionist. Everything about this day had to be perfect—at least in her eyes.

For a moment, Terry was struck by her beauty, though it wasn’t the kind that softened him. No, it was the kind that made him tense up, reminded him of how exacting and unyielding she could be. This day was her project, her magnum opus. Every detail, every flower petal, every perfectly folded napkin screamed Layla’s name. She had crafted this day like an artist crafting a canvas, with no room for error, no space for anything less than flawlessness.

And Terry? He was just another piece in her picture-perfect world.

She glided down the aisle with an air of composure that bordered on cold. Her gaze flickered toward him for a brief moment, unreadable, before returning to the path ahead. He wondered if she felt the same weight he did, the crushing sense of inevitability. Did she hate this as much as he did? Or was she satisfied that everything—at least on the surface—was exactly how she wanted it?

As she drew closer, he exhaled quietly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The music swelled, and the officiant smiled as the two of them came to stand before him.

“Dearly beloved…”

Terry’s mind wandered, his focus blurring. The vows would come soon, the exchange of rings, and the sealing of a bond neither of them desired.

He stole another glance at her. Layla, with her unflinching poise and faultless exterior, looked exactly as she always did: composed, controlled, and unreachable. But as she turned her head slightly, her profile catching the light, he thought he saw something—just for a moment. A crack in the armor. A flicker of something that mirrored his own unease.

Maybe this wasn’t perfect for her, either.

-

Layla needed this day to go smoothly. Everything hinged on it—her family’s pride, their reputation, their carefully laid plans. She had spent months obsessing over the details, ensuring every flower, every strand of music, and every flicker of candlelight fit the picture-perfect image her father demanded. She knew Terry couldn’t stand her, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was keeping her father happy, preserving the legacy he was so desperate to secure.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as she walked down the aisle. Terry Richmond, the golden boy. The perfect man her family adored. He was everything her father wanted for her—handsome, disciplined, and ambitious, with just enough of a rebellious streak to make him interesting but not uncontrollable.

Layla, however, couldn’t stand him.

He was too free-spirited, too adventurous. While she thrived on structure and control, Terry seemed determined to challenge every boundary, break every rule. Even as a teenager, he had been restless, always chasing something she couldn’t understand. When he left for the Marines, she had hoped that would be the end of it—that he would fade into the background of her life.

But her father had other plans.

Layla still remembered the night her father had brought it up, his tone sharp and unyielding. “Terry is the kind of man who can secure our family’s future,” he had said, his eyes boring into hers. “He needs stability, a reason to stay grounded. And you’ll be that reason.”

At first, she had resisted. The idea of tying herself to someone like Terry felt like a punishment. But her father had a way of getting what he wanted, and soon the engagement was announced. It was all strategic—a merger between their family’s influence and Terry’s rising prospects.

She looked at him now, standing at the altar, his jaw set and his eyes distant. Even on their wedding day, he radiated defiance, as if this whole affair was just another battle he had to fight.

She hated that about him—his unwillingness to yield, to accept what was necessary. But deep down, she envied it too. Terry had always been free in a way she could never be.

As she reached the altar and their eyes met, she felt the weight of everything unsaid between them. There was no love here, no warmth. Just two people bound by duty and the will of others.

The officiant began to speak, and Layla forced herself to smile. This wasn’t about what she wanted. It never had been.

-

After the vows were said, the applause rang hollow in Terry’s ears. He could barely remember what he had just promised, the words leaving his mouth feeling more like a performance than a pledge. As the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Layla’s carefully painted smile stayed in place, her eyes giving nothing away. The perfect bride. The dutiful daughter.

At the reception, the room was lavishly decorated—golden chandeliers, pristine white tablecloths, and centerpieces dripping with fresh flowers. It was exactly the kind of spectacle Layla’s family loved to flaunt, a display of wealth and status. Terry stood by her side, his arm loosely wrapped around her waist as cameras flashed, capturing every fake smile and every forced laugh.

The guests buzzed around them, congratulating them, showering them with compliments about how perfect they looked together. Terry nodded along, his jaw tightening with every handshake and toast. He couldn’t help but feel like a puppet, his strings being pulled by expectations he had never agreed to.

Layla, for her part, played her role flawlessly. She laughed at the right moments, leaned into him just enough to sell the illusion, and thanked every guest with a warmth that never reached her eyes. Her father beamed from his seat at the head table, clearly proud of the union he had orchestrated.

Terry glanced at her as she sipped from her champagne flute, her expression serene. He wondered if it was exhausting for her, keeping up this perfect façade. Or was this just who she was—someone who thrived on control, even when everything underneath was falling apart?

The first dance came, and the room erupted into applause as they took to the floor. Layla’s hand rested lightly on his shoulder, her touch cold despite the warmth of the room.

“You’re doing great,” she murmured through her smile, her words meant for his ears alone.

“Thanks,” he replied dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Couldn’t have done it without your coaching.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her smile never wavered. “Just get through tonight, Terry. That’s all I’m asking.”

He chuckled bitterly. “And then what, Layla? Pretend to be the perfect husband and wife forever?”

She didn’t answer immediately, her eyes scanning the room to ensure no one was paying too much attention. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and clipped. “That’s exactly what we’ll do. Because that’s what’s expected. So, smile and keep dancing.”

Terry tightened his grip on her waist, more out of frustration than affection. He wanted to argue, to push back, but he knew it was useless. This was the reality they were trapped in, a marriage built on duty and appearances rather than love.

As the song ended and the applause swelled around them, they both smiled for the crowd, two actors in a play neither of them wanted to star in.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @pocketsizedpanther @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout @melaninpov @todorokishoe24 @notapradagurl7

[inkmonster21]

A Cowboy’s Love

Hattie Mae Dutton is the youngest of the family whom Ryan, one of the wranglers on the ranch, has fallen for.

Yellowstone Ryan x OC!Dutton

This is part ONE

Series Masterlist

🤠

"I'm too old for this crap," John mutters, sitting on the edge of their bed. Evelyn shares his sentiment, her eyes reflecting exhaustion and frustration. She had just begun to feel like herself again after the challenges of Kacey, their already feisty son. But now, the news of the positive pregnancy test dangled in the air between them like a bitter reminder. Just as the dread began to transform into words, the door creaks open and Beth and Lee step in, their eyes instantly falling upon the test in Evelyn's hand. "Are you pregnant, mom?" Lee asks, a hopeful smile lighting up his face.

John and Evenly exchanged a knowing glance, both silently praying that fate would intervene this time. They had already gone through the challenges of having four children, and the thought of another child, especially a girl like Beth had wished, seemed almost too much to handle. But the positive test in Evelyn's hands confirmed their fears. With a resigned smile, Evelyn nods and says, "I hope it's a girl too, Beth."

Nine months later, Hattie Mae Dutton was born into the world, her entrance marked by a chorus of defiant cries, rivaling those of a bobcat unleashed from the depths of hell. Beth couldn't help but smirk as she heard her newborn sister's piercing cries, her voice filled with pride. "That's my fucking sister, right there," she declared with a chuckle.

-

Hattie barges into the house, her older brother Kacey in hot pursuit. "Give it back, you brat!" he yells at her. Hattie, her hand holding a knife, smirks at him defiantly. "Come and get it then! What, don't think you can beat up a girl?" Their father swiftly intervenes, pulling Kacey off of her. "What the hell are you thinking, son? She's 5 years old, for god's sake!"

John rolls his eyes at his son's antics. "For goodness' sake, Kacey. She doesn't know any better."

John scoops up his young daughter in his arms firmly, but with a hint of amusement. "Give it here," he tells her. Hattie, her expression somewhat chastened, hands the knife over to her father. "I just wanted to see it," she explains, a touch of defensiveness in her voice. John returns the knife to Kacey and steps out of the room, Hattie held securely in his arms. "You want to go for a ride?" he asks her, his tone gentler now, as he sees her eager nod.

-

Hattie Mae Dutton was the heart and soul of the Dutton family - the baby, the epitome of innocent charm, and the one who, it seemed, no one could ever say no to.

John sent  her to study business marketing, a path John believed would perfectly position her to market The Yellowstone Dutton Ranch effectively. Lee was incredibly proud of his sister, openly supporting her every step of the way. Beth thought it was badass how Hattie had the knack to make the ranch lifestyle come alive on social media. Kacey, on the other hand, didn't give two shits about what his sister was doing, barely understanding the magnitude of her achievements. Jamie was the only one who seemed to view her entire existence as a joke.

Hattie chuckled, clicking a picture of the wranglers. "Everyone smile!" she exclaimed, her camera lens focused on the stoic figure of Rip. "Even you, Rip!" He shook his head, but reluctantly broke into a sly grin. Without wasting a moment, Hattie snapped the picture and quickly opened up her editing app to touch up the photo before uploading it to the Yellowstone Instagram page.

~

It was Ryan's first day on the ranch, and the moment he laid eyes on Hattie, he was instantly captivated. She hopped out of the truck, her slender figure carrying shopping bags as she returned home from university for the weekend. "Who is that?" Ryan asked Lloyd, the older gentleman standing nearby. Lloyd chuckled as he watched Ryan's gaze follow Hattie's every move. "Hattie Dutton," he replied. "Mr. Dutton's youngest girl." Ryan nodded silently, his eyes still fixated on her as she pulled out a dress and showed it to her sister. "Wow," Ryan exhaled quietly.

Hattie was stood on the porch, proudly displaying her new purchases when Beth drew her attention towards a field in the distance. A younger man was standing there, his gaze focused solely on Hattie. He smiled warmly, tipping his hat in greeting. "Oh, wow," Hattie murmured, leaning back against the porch railing and admiring the cowboy. Beth couldn't help but tease her younger sister. "Hattie, what would Vince think?" she taunted. Vince Dupond, Hattie's uptight boyfriend, was known for his jealousy and possessiveness. Was his reason rooted in her father's substantial bank account? Quite possibly.

It felt as if fate or a higher power was meticulously orchestrating every detail. Just as Vince's car pulled into the driveway, he barked, "I thought you'd be here an hour ago!" Hattie stood there, silently anticipating the storm. Beth, standing nearby, whispered into her ear, "Looks like you're in trouble." Later that evening, at Vince's apartment, Hattie's skin bore the evidence of the price she had paid for her "trouble." The marks upon her body remained unseen, a secret safely tucked away.

Months passed, and the cycle of Hattie seemingly stepping out of line only to face his wrath became a grim regularity. It wasn't until one eventful night that someone finally took notice. Sitting in Vince's truck, Hattie tried to stay silent, knowing it would be pointless to argue with him. But when he accused her of sleeping with the ranch hands, she protested. "No, I'm not!" she insisted, reaching for the handle to exit the vehicle. But Vince grabbed her wrist, pulling her back into her seat with a force that made her cry out in pain. He jabbed a finger in her face.

"I bet you fuck all of them. Huh? Is that what you do, you fucking slut?" Suddenly, the driver's door of the truck was violently yanked open, leaving Vince frozen in surprise.

Rip turned his gaze to Hattie, sensing something amiss. "Is there a problem, Hattie?" he asked, noticing how tightly Vince gripped her wrist. Vince shot back defiantly, "Mind your own fucking business, you redneck." He tried to pull the door shut, but Rip acted quickly, yanking him out of the vehicle and slamming him onto the gravel.

Rip turned his attention to Hattie, his eyes narrowing. "I'm only going to ask you once," he said. "Did he hurt you?" Hattie looked down at her wrist before nodding slightly in confirmation. Rip's gaze flicked back to Vince, a fierce look of anger in his eyes. "I knew you were a piece of shit," he spat, proceeding to pummel Vince into a bloody mess. He slammed Vince against the bunkhouse wall, shouting out, "Lloyd! Get out here!"

Rip forcefully held Vince by his collar, pinning him against the wall. As Lloyd appeared from the bunkhouse, Rip pointed towards Hattie, who remained silently watching. "You hit her, mother fucker" Rip sneered. "This is what you get." Vince, bloodied and bruised, mustered enough defiance to spit on Rip's boots before hurling a chilling threat at him, "I'm going to kill you."

Rip chuckled at Vince's empty threat, his tone coldly mocking. "Well, you ain't gonna have that chance, partner." Turning to Lloyd, he commanded, "Tie his ass up. Throw him in the truck." Vince tried to struggle against their grasp, desperately pleading, "What are you doing? Hattie,  help me. Tell them to stop!" Hattie stood resolute, staring defiantly at her attacker before striding up to him and delivering a powerful punch to his face. "Rot in hell, you f\*\*king pussy," she seethed.

Hattie defiantly climbed into the Yellowstone truck, ignoring Rip's attempts to convince her to get out. "Get out of the truck, Hattie. Go home," he pleaded. She shook her head firmly, not budging. "No. If he's going to the train station, I want to see it," she insisted, her determination unyielding.

Rip looked at her steadfastly, a knowing look in his eyes. "You know what that means, don't you?" he asked. She responded with a determined nod, "Kacey's got it. I can have it too." From that day forth, Hattie made a silent vow to herself - never again would she allow herself to be a victim of cruelty, instead vowing to be the one breaking hearts.

~

Hattie quickly proved herself on the ranch. "Look at her go!" Lee chuckled admiringly as she skillfully managed the cattle. "She sure is something," he conceded. Ryan watched her from afar, his smile betraying his admiration. Lee noticed his interest and smirked, nudging him with a knowing look. "You think so?" he teased. Ryan's smile widened as he nodded silently, his eyes fixed on Hattie. Lloyd, riding alongside Ryan, chuckled, "Come on, Romeo."

Lee's voice carried across the plains, calling out to Hattie. "Hattie!" He observed Ryan's rapt attention towards her and continued, "You're with Ryan. Ride up to the river and move them this way." Hattie rode up to the pair, her presence causing Ryan to nervously fidget with his appearance. Lloyd chuckled at the exchange, his smirk widening. Hattie came to a halt in front of them, her soft blonde locks swaying gently in the breeze. Ryan's eyes widened as he smiled at her, his gaze captivated. "Is that alright?" She asked, only to realize he completely missed what she said. "What was that?"

Hattie couldn't help but notice the way Ryan's eyes lingered on her. Seeing the way he reacted, a sly smirk played on her lips, knowing very well about his feelings. She glanced over at her brother, unsurprised by his attempts to matchmake. Hattie tilted her head slightly and suggested, "I figured we could give them a rest once we reach the river. It's quite a long ride." Ryan nodded eagerly, his eyes never leaving her face. "Sounds perfect. That's a brilliant idea." Hattie, knowing exactly what was going on, furrowed her brow slightly. "Okay, let's go

Lee chuckled, giving Ryan a playful wink. "You're walking into the lion's den with her," he teased. Ryan's neck grew warm with embarrassment, and he responded defensively, "Y'all are setting me up."

Riding side by side, they gradually approached the river, the sound of the rushing water growing louder. Once they reached the river's edge, they dismounted and settled down by the water's edge. Ryan sat quietly, his mind racing as he desperately tried to find something to say.

Hattie removed her hat, her blonde hair fluttering in the breeze. She teased Ryan, saying, "You're quiet today." Ryan's flustered response began with, "Am I?"

Hattie chuckled softly. "Even after all these years, I still make you nervous?" Her tone was lighthearted, yet unbeknownst to her, her words held truth. Ryan's cheeks flushed as he admitted, "You can be intimidating, darlin'." Hattie patted his leg gently, her hand lingering for a moment longer than usual. It was a common occurrence between them, this flirtatious banter. Hattie's gaze shifted to the river, and a mischievous smirk played on her lips.

Hattie stood, shedding her shirt and jeans in swift motions. She turned to Ryan, a playful challenge written on her face. "You coming?"

Ryan's eyes widened in surprise as he watched her jump into the river. "Are you crazy?" he asked, his voice a mix of awe and concern. Hattie chuckled, "Don't be a pussy. Come on, cowboy."

Ryan took a moment, gathering his courage before discarding his clothes and joining Hattie in the river. He let out a yelp as the cool water enveloped him. "Oh, shit, it's freezing!" He swam over to her, his limbs aching from the cold. Hattie's arms wrapped around him, and he had to pinch himself to assure himself he wasn't dreaming. There, in the river, he had the woman of his dreams pressed against him.

Hattie's blunt question cut through the tension, "You wanna kiss me?" her smirk growing wider. Ryan's hands instinctively found her waist, and he knew this was a risky move. Looking into her eyes, he replied, "You know I do, darlin'." Her proximity sent his mind reeling, feeling intoxicated by her nearness. "Can I?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Kiss me, cowboy." Ryan's lips finally met hers, their kiss hidden by the rippling water. Their bodies pressed against each other, hidden by the flowing river, and the secret of their situationship had begun between the farmer's daughter and a ranch hand.

~

One evening in the bunkhouse, the atmosphere was charged with excitement as a game of cards began. "This game doesn't even make sense," Colby grumbled, throwing his cards down in frustration. "Man, this is bulls\*t. I'm broke." Ryan revealed his winning hand, collecting the winnings. As he meticulously organized his winnings, he couldn't help but overhear the muttered comments from his fellow cowboys about a certain Dutton.

"Hattie is the perfect rider, both on horseback and in bed," Fred smirked, taking a swig of his beer. One of his friends chuckled and added, "She ain't bad. I took her for a spin last weekend." The other men snickered in agreement.

Ryan felt a surge of anger as he stood, his eyes fixed on Fred. "Bullshit!" he exclaimed, certain that Fred was making things up. Fred's attempt to play it cool failed, and he was clearly taken aback by Ryan's outburst. "What's wrong, cowboy? Jealous?" Ryan stepped forward, his anger blazing, but before he could lay a hand on Fred, Rip intervened. He placed a firm hand on Ryan's chest, commanding, "Calm the fuck down." Ryan was too enraged to speak, and Rip turned his attention to Fred.

It took all of Ryan's willpower to tear his gaze from Fred. He was seething with anger, ready to pounce on him. Rip intervened, shaking him forcefully, "HEY! Stop that shIt and tell me what happened. You know the fucking rules." Rip pushed Ryan back into his seat, the weight of his hand a reminder that he needed to cool off and explain himself.

Lloyd spoke up, his voice a mix of anger and disappointment. "Fred was speaking ill about Hattie." Rip's eyes blazed with fury as he turned to Fred. "What the f**k did you say about Hattie?" Fred attempted to shrug it off, explaining, "I made a joke-" Rip pushed him forcefully back onto his bunk, his voice a growl. "A joke? A f**king joke? That's the daughter of your f**ing boss! You ever say anything about her again, and I'll rope your ass and drag you to pasture 9 and bury you right there." Rip shook his head at the childish behavior. "A joke. Grow the fuck up," Rip walks out slamming the bunkhouse door.

Ryan understood the rules, even though he'd heard them a hundred times before. When two men wanted to settle a dispute, they went to Rip. He would fight them all day if necessary. But for Hattie, Ryan was prepared to break the rules. If she ever needed him to fight for her, he would do so without hesitation. He'd gladly pack his bags and leave with a smile, knowing he had defended her honor.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Across the Ropes.. a Zilla Fatu x OC Fanfic.

Chapter 2: Rapture

April 25th, 2025 11:58 PM

It had been two months since Zilla woke up in Dahlia’s dorm room, slipped out quietly, and left her behind. He regretted it every day since. But in his mind, it had to be that way. They were from completely different worlds, and there was no way someone like him—with his chaotic past and uncertain future—could give someone like her what she deserved. Especially now, with his dream of wrestling in the WWE finally coming true, there was no space for distractions or emotional vulnerabilities. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

Now, as he sat in a dimly lit bar in Pensacola, FL, with his cousins Jacob and Joseph Fatu, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of that decision. The night had been good; Friday Night SmackDown had been a success, and his cousins were in high spirits, laughing and joking as they enjoyed their drinks. But Zilla couldn’t fully shake the gnawing feeling that had been eating at him since the day he walked out on Dahlia.

“You good, Uce’?” Jacob asked, tipping his beer bottle in Zilla’s direction.

Zilla gave a slight nod, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Yeah, just tired,” he replied, though even he didn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Tired or thinking too much?” Joseph asked, smirking knowingly. He always had a way of reading people, especially family, and Zilla wasn’t exactly hard to figure out tonight.

Zilla shot him a side-eye and let out a dry laugh. “Ain’t nothing to think about,” he said, but the way his voice trailed off made it clear that wasn’t true.

Jacob leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied Zilla. “You sure about that? You’ve been looking like you’ve got something heavy on your chest all night.”

Zilla sighed and took a long sip of his whiskey, hoping it would silence the noise in his head. But it didn’t. The image of Dahlia’s face—the way she smiled, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed—kept creeping back into his mind. He hadn’t seen her since that night, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About how he left things. About how he walked out without even saying goodbye.

“You ever do something you thought was right at the time, but now…” Zilla paused, struggling to find the words. “Now, you’re not so sure?”

Jacob and Joseph exchanged a glance before Jacob spoke up. “Life’s full of those moments, bro. But the real question is, are you gonna let it keep eating at you, or are you gonna do something about it?”

Joseph chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, I ain’t never seen you this quiet. Whoever or whatever this is about must be serious.”

Zilla didn’t respond immediately. He just stared into his glass, the alcohol doing little to drown out the ache in his chest. His cousins were right. He had messed up—big time. Dahlia didn’t deserve what he did to her, and he knew that. But what could he do about it now? Their lives had moved on. She was probably doing fine without him.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Zilla finally admitted, his voice low.

Jacob leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Start by figuring out what you want. You can’t keep running from shit, Z. If this is about a girl—”

“It’s not just a girl,” Zilla cut him off, surprising even himself with the force of his words. “It’s… different.”

Joseph raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

Zilla hesitated, the vulnerability making him feel exposed. But he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. “She’s… special. And I think I messed it up for good.”

Jacob let out a low whistle, sitting back in his chair. “Well, damn. If she’s that special, maybe it’s worth swallowing your pride and seeing if you can make it right.”

Zilla mulled over his cousin’s words, feeling the truth of them settle in his gut. The problem was, he wasn’t sure if he had the courage to face Dahlia again. To admit he was wrong. To risk hearing that she had moved on.

As the bar buzzed around him, Zilla felt the weight of his decision looming over him. He knew he couldn’t keep hiding from what he felt. But the real question was: after all this time, would Dahlia even want to hear from him?

As the bar lights dimmed, signaling last call, Joseph stretched and asked, “Y’all ready to head out?”

Jacob downed the last of his beer and nodded. “Yeah, let’s bounce.”

Zilla didn’t say much, just grabbed his jacket and followed them outside. The cool night air felt heavy as they waited for their Uber, the sounds of the city around them contrasting sharply with the turmoil in Zilla’s mind. He couldn’t shake the thought of Dahlia.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet. Jacob and Joseph talked softly about plans for tomorrow, but Zilla barely registered their words. Instead, he stared out the window, replaying that night in Dahlia’s dorm room over and over. He hadn’t just left her; he’d left a piece of himself there, and he’d been trying to fill that void ever since.

When they got to the hotel, Jacob slapped Zilla on the shoulder. “You good, man?”

“Yeah,” Zilla lied, forcing a small smile.

Joseph gave him a curious look but didn’t push. “Alright. Don’t stay up all night.”

The cousins disappeared into their rooms, leaving Zilla alone in the suite. He kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the couch, pulling out his phone. His fingers hovered over Booker’s contact. He wasn’t sure why, but something in him needed guidance—and maybe a little courage.

He typed out a quick message.

Zilla: OG, you up?

Booker responded almost instantly.

Booker: Always. What’s going on, kid?

Zilla stared at the screen, debating how to phrase it.

Zilla: You remember that girl? The smart one? From Houston?

Booker: The college one? Yeah. What about her?

Zilla: You wouldn’t still have her number, would you?

The dots indicating Booker was typing appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared. Finally, a reply came through.

Booker: What’s this about?

Zilla: I just… I need to talk to her.

The pause was agonizing. Zilla tapped his foot, scrolling mindlessly through TikTok to distract himself. After what felt like an eternity, another message popped up.

Booker: You sure this is a good idea? You left her hanging, man. That’s not easy to come back from.

Zilla: I know. But I can’t stop thinking about her. I need to fix it.

More dots.

Booker: Alright. But don’t waste her time. She’s too good for games.

A moment later, a text came through with Dahlia’s number.

Booker: Here. Good luck, kid.

Zilla stared at the number for a long moment. His heart pounded in his chest as doubt crept in. Would she even pick up? Did she even want to hear from him?

But before he could second-guess himself, he hit the call button.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.

Just as he was about to hang up, a familiar voice answered. “Hello?”

Zilla froze. Hearing her voice again hit him harder than he expected. He cleared his throat, trying to steady himself.

“Dahlia. It’s me,” he said quietly.

There was silence on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath. “Zilla?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft.

Another pause, this one heavier.

“What do you want?” she asked, her tone guarded.

Zilla leaned forward, running a hand over his face. “I wanted to talk. To explain. I know I messed up, but—”

“You think a phone call makes it better?” Dahlia interrupted, her voice sharp. “You ghosted me, Zilla. For two months.”

“I know that, like for real, I didn’t mean to,” Zilla said, his voice pleading.

Dahlia let out a frustrated sigh on the other end of the line. “I have to go. My break is over. Look, just delete my number, Zilla.”

“No,” Zilla said firmly, cutting her off before she could hang up. “I don’t want to.”

Dahlia went silent for a moment, the sound of faint chatter and clinking dishes in the background letting him know she was back at work. “You don’t get to say that,” she finally said, her voice quieter but still laced with hurt. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and act like you care now. You left me, Zilla.”

“I know,” Zilla admitted. “And I’ve been kicking myself every damn day since. I was scared, Dahlia. Scared of what I felt, scared of ruining you. You deserve so much better than what I am.”

“I didn’t ask for better,” she snapped. “I asked for you. And you couldn’t even stay.”

Her words cut deep, but Zilla knew he deserved it. “You’re right. I couldn’t. But I’m here now, trying to make it right.”

Dahlia let out a bitter laugh. “What do you even want from me, Zilla?”

“I want to fix it,” he said without hesitation. “I want to start over, if you’ll let me. I know I don’t deserve it, but I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. About what we could’ve been if I hadn’t screwed it up.”

The line went quiet again, and for a moment Zilla thought she’d hung up.

“You think it’s that easy?” Dahlia finally asked, her voice soft but still guarded.

“No,” Zilla said. “I know it’s not. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m serious this time.”

Dahlia sighed, and he could hear the conflict in her tone. “I don’t know if I can trust you, Zilla. Not after what you did.”

“You don’t have to trust me yet,” he said. “Just give me a chance to earn it back.”

There was a long pause before Dahlia spoke again. “I need to get back to work.”

“Okay,” Zilla said, his heart sinking.

“I’ll think about it,” she added, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

His head shot up. “You will?”

“Don’t push it,” she said, but he could hear the faintest trace of something softer in her voice.

“Alright,” Zilla said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Zilla,” Dahlia said, and the line went dead.

Zilla let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, staring at his phone. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And for the first time in weeks, he felt like he had a shot at making things right.

—

Dahlia got up from her seat, tossing the remnants of her lunch into the trash with a little more force than necessary. She adjusted her scrubs and sighed, trying to push the conversation with Zilla out of her mind.

She was working as a medical scribe at the Texas Medical Center, a job that not only brought in extra income but also looked great on her medical school application. The long hours weren’t easy, but they kept her mind occupied—or at least they usually did.

“Hey, boo!” a familiar voice called out.

Dahlia turned and saw Sabrina, her roommate and fellow medical scribe, striding toward her with a big smile. Sabrina always had a way of brightening up any room, her energy infectious.

“Hey, girl,” Dahlia said, trying to muster some enthusiasm.

Sabrina tilted her head and gave her a curious look. “What’s got you all wound up? You’ve been fidgety all day.”

Dahlia hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Remember that wrestler I told you about?”

Sabrina’s eyes widened, her smile growing sly. “Oh, don’t tell me—he called you, didn’t he?”

Dahlia folded her arms and leaned against the wall, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah. Out of nowhere. After two months of complete silence.”

Sabrina let out a low whistle. “Well, what did he say? What does he want?”

Dahlia shrugged, frustration bubbling to the surface. “To fix things, apparently. To ‘earn my trust back,’ whatever that means. I don’t even know why I answered the phone.”

“Girl, because you still care,” Sabrina said knowingly. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I don’t know,” Dahlia admitted, rubbing her temple. “He sounded… different. Like he actually felt bad. But how do I trust someone who left me like that?”

Sabrina crossed her arms and gave Dahlia a pointed look. “So, what are you gonna do? Give him a chance or shut him out for good?”

“I told him I’d think about it,” Dahlia said.

“Hmm,” Sabrina mused, tapping her chin. “Well, my advice? Don’t rush. Make him work for it. If he really wants you back, he’ll prove it.”

Dahlia sighed again. “I guess.”

“Trust me,” Sabrina said with a wink. “If he’s serious, you’ll know. But until then, focus on you. Don’t let him mess with your head.”

Dahlia nodded, feeling a little lighter after talking to Sabrina. “You’re right. I’ll see what he does. No more stressing about it for now.”

“Exactly,” Sabrina said with a grin. “Now, let’s get back to work before Dr. Patel starts looking for us.”

Dahlia smiled faintly and followed Sabrina back toward the clinic, her mind still buzzing but her resolve a little stronger. Whatever happened next, she was determined to stay in control.

At 6 a.m., Dahlia and Sabrina clocked out, both exhausted from their overnight shifts. As they stepped into the cool morning air, Sabrina unlocked her car and slid into the driver’s seat, gesturing for Dahlia to join her.

“I’m heading to my sugar daddy’s place after I drop you off,” Sabrina said with a cheeky grin. “I need a real shower and maybe a mimosa if I’m lucky.”

Dahlia chuckled as she buckled her seatbelt. “Have fun, and don’t forget to hydrate.”

“Oh, I will,” Sabrina replied with a wink, pulling out of the parking lot.

The drive to the dorms was quiet, save for the low hum of the radio. Dahlia stared out the window, the streetlights and early risers blurring past. She was too tired to speak, but her thoughts swirled with the call.

When Sabrina pulled up in front of the dorms, Dahlia gave her a tired smile. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime,” Sabrina said. “Now go get some sleep. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Dahlia laughed softly, stepping out of the car. “You’re not wrong. See you later.”

“Later, boo!” Sabrina called as she drove off, already humming along to the music on the radio.

Dahlia climbed the steps to the dormitory, her body heavy with exhaustion. She made her way upstairs to her room, unlocked the door, and dropped her bag onto the floor. The silence of the room was comforting after the noise of the hospital.

She grabbed a fresh set of pajamas and her shower caddy, then shuffled to the communal showers down the hall. The hot water was soothing against her tired muscles, washing away the stress of the night. Dahlia took her time, letting herself unwind under the steady stream.

When she returned to her room, she pulled down the blackout shade and glanced at the clock on her desk. 6:52 a.m. She yawned, her body ready to collapse.

Crawling into bed, Dahlia pulled the covers up to her chin, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to the warmth of the shower. But as she closed her eyes, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to Zilla.

His voice still echoed in her ears, his apology replaying like a broken record. She hated how much space he still occupied in her thoughts.

“Why now?” she murmured to herself, staring at the ceiling in the dim light. Despite her exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily. Dahlia sighed and turned onto her side, willing her mind to quiet down.

Before Dahlia could drift off into a deep sleep, her phone buzzed, pulling her from the haze of exhaustion. She squinted at the screen, still half-asleep, and her heart skipped when she saw it was a message from Zilla. It read:

Imma be honest, I tossed and turned many nights thinking of you and now… I just want to hold you in my arms again.

Dahlia couldn’t help but smile at the message, the warmth spreading through her chest despite the conflict that had lingered between them. She bit her lip, staring at the screen for a moment, before her thumb hovered over the keyboard. Without overthinking it, she typed out a quick response and hit send. But then she paused, thinking about it. Should she call him?

She muttered to herself, “Fuck it,” and pressed the dial button.

The phone rang a couple of times before Zilla picked up, his voice sounding groggy, like he hadn’t been expecting her to reach out.

“Dahlia?” he said, his voice low and a little hoarse.

“Yeah,” she replied softly, sitting up in bed, tucking her legs beneath her. “I got your message.”

There was a pause on the other end, and she could hear him exhale, almost as if he was relieved. “I didn’t think you’d call. Honestly, I thought you’d ignore me for good.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning to,” she admitted, letting out a small laugh that didn’t quite hide the nervousness in her voice. “But here we are.”

“I’m glad,” Zilla said. “I really am.”

They spoke for a few moments, small talk at first, just feeling each other out. But soon, the tension started to creep back in, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Dahlia felt the pull of the past, but she also couldn’t deny the way her heart seemed to ache every time Zilla’s name crossed her mind.

“You really want to know why I’m not just going to give you another chance like that?” Dahlia finally asked, her voice thick with emotion.

“Anything,” Zilla replied, his voice earnest. “Just… anything. If it helps me understand better.”

Dahlia hesitated, thinking back to that day they spent together. The way it felt so effortless, so right. But it was also the day she realized how vulnerable she had let herself become, how much she’d allowed Zilla in, only for him to walk away. “It’s because… like, we had this great day together, you know? It felt… different. I’ve never felt that way with anyone else.”

Zilla was quiet for a moment, processing her words. Then, in a tone filled with urgency and longing, he said, “Let me come see you. I’m gonna be in Houston in about three hours.”

Dahlia’s stomach flipped at the thought. The idea of seeing him again after everything was overwhelming. “I’ll be sleeping,” she said, her voice soft, unsure. She didn’t know if she was ready for this, for him to show up, to feel that pull all over again.

“I’ll come in and sleep with you,” Zilla said, his words almost a whisper, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice. “I just… I want to hold you again. For real, Dahlia. No games this time.”

She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head as she spoke. “You lying.”

“I’m serious,” he replied, the edge of desperation creeping into his voice. “I don’t care if we just sleep. I just want to be near you, to hold you, like I should’ve done before.”

Dahlia’s breath caught in her throat. Her mind raced, torn between wanting to let him in and the fear of opening herself up only to be hurt again. But there was something about his words that hit her deep. She knew he wasn’t playing this time.

“I don’t know, Zilla,” she said quietly, unsure of what she was feeling. “This… this feels too soon.”

“I know,” he responded, the understanding in his tone clear. “But I’m telling you, I’m not going anywhere. I want to make things right. I’ll give you the time you need. But I need to see you. Just to show you that I’m not messing around.”

Dahlia paused, her heart pounding in her chest. She had been trying to guard herself, but in this moment, with Zilla’s voice on the other end, everything felt like it was slowly unraveling. She didn’t know what the future held, but she knew she couldn’t ignore the way she still felt when he spoke to her like this.

“Okay,” she said after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper. “Come over. But don’t expect things to just magically be okay, Zilla. I’m not giving you a free pass.”

Zilla let out a relieved sigh, the weight of her words still sinking in. “I don’t expect that, Dahlia. But I’ll be there, and I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The line fell silent for a moment, both of them knowing this was just the beginning of whatever was to come.

“I’ll see you soon,” Zilla said softly, before hanging up.

Dahlia stared at the phone for a few moments, the adrenaline from the call still pulsing through her. She wasn’t sure if this was the right decision, but deep down, she knew she couldn’t deny the connection they still had.

And for better or worse, things were about to get even more complicated.

—

Zilla stepped off the plane at George Bush Intercontinental Airport (IAH), a sense of anticipation settling in his chest. The excitement of being in Houston, of being so close to Dahlia, was almost overwhelming. He quickly grabbed his bags from the carousel and headed outside to catch a taxi. The car ride to Rice University felt like the longest drive of his life, his mind racing with thoughts of the past couple of months and the decision that had brought him here tonight.

Dahlia had messaged him earlier, saying that the door would be unlocked. It was her invitation, her way of letting him back in. No backing out now, he thought, trying to push aside the lingering doubts that had been with him since the day he left.

The taxi finally pulled up to the dorms, and Zilla made his way toward the building, a sense of nostalgia hitting him as he passed the familiar halls. He could remember the countless nights spent here, the shared laughter, the little moments that had left an imprint on his heart. He couldn’t help but smile as he approached the door to Dahlia’s room. The memory of the door sign—a big D and S filled in with purple and red markers, decorated with flowers—made his heart flutter.

Zilla opened the door quietly, making sure to lock it behind him. He didn’t want any interruptions—not tonight. He set his bags down softly, careful not to wake her. He peeled off his hoodie, leaving him in just a black muscle shirt and basketball shorts, a casual outfit, but enough for him to feel comfortable. His eyes scanned the room, landing on Dahlia as she lay there, curled up under the covers. He moved to the side of the bed, wanting to give her space, but also needing to feel close to her.

He climbed into the bed, careful not to disturb her. The sheets rustled softly as he adjusted the comforter, making sure they were both covered. As he settled in, he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. The moment was so quiet, so intimate, that Zilla could hardly believe he was finally here, with her, after everything that had happened.

He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, a tender gesture that made her stir in her sleep. Dahlia shifted, naturally seeking his warmth. She adjusted herself and curled closer, her body fitting perfectly against his. Zilla closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to just be in the moment, to feel her skin against his. Her smooth skin, the soft scent of her kiwi-strawberry shampoo, and the way her breathing was so rhythmic and peaceful—it all felt like a dream.

In all the months he had been away, he hadn’t felt this way about anyone. It wasn’t just about the physical closeness—it was the connection, the way everything felt so right when she was near. They’d only had one date, one day together, but it had been enough to leave a lasting mark on his heart.

Dahlia turned, instinctively seeking more of him. She placed her arm across his chest, her hand resting on his side. Zilla smiled, pulling her even closer, savoring the way her body fit against his. She nestled her head into his chest, and for a moment, it was as if the rest of the world had disappeared.

Her voice broke the silence, soft and barely a whisper. “Your cologne,” she said, the words almost dreamlike.

Zilla grinned, his fingers gently running through her hair. “You like it?”

Dahlia nodded, her lips brushing against his chest as she spoke. “It grounds me,” she murmured.

Her words made Zilla’s heart swell, and he pulled her even closer, wanting to hold her as tightly as possible. He wanted to keep her safe, keep her in his arms forever.

“What are you doing to me?” Dahlia whispered, her voice full of quiet wonder. There was a vulnerability in her words, a soft admission of the effect he was having on her.

Zilla didn’t answer right away. He just held her, his arms wrapped around her, the silence between them speaking volumes. He knew what they had was special, and he wasn’t about to let it slip away this time.

All he could do was press his lips to her forehead and hold her, savoring the moment, feeling the weight of everything that had brought them here. The exhaustion of the past months, the distance, the doubts—everything seemed to fade away as he held Dahlia in his arms, the two of them entwined in a fragile, beautiful moment of peace.

12:13 PM

Dahlia woke to the feeling of strong arms wrapped securely around her. For a moment, she felt a peaceful kind of weightlessness, as if the world outside didn’t exist. She turned her head slightly and saw Zilla still asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily.

The peace was interrupted by a buzzing sound. Dahlia turned her head toward the source and saw Zilla’s phone lighting up repeatedly. She sighed softly, not wanting to disturb the moment, but after the fourth buzz, she carefully nudged him awake.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice gentle. “Someone keeps calling you.”

Zilla groaned lightly, his voice thick with sleep as he mumbled, “Yeah?” He blinked a few times and stretched before pulling his phone out of his bag. His eyes squinted at the screen as he rubbed his face with his other hand.

“It’s my mom,” he finally said after typing out a quick message. “She didn’t know where I was.”

Dahlia sat up slightly, brushing her hair out of her face. “Do you want to call her back?” she asked softly.

“Nah, she’ll be fine,” Zilla said, tossing his phone onto the bed. “I’ll check in with her later.”

He sat up fully now, his broad shoulders stretching as he rolled his neck to wake himself up. He looked over at Dahlia, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Damn, I’m starving. You want to get something to eat?”

Dahlia laughed, the sound soft and warm. “Where at?”

“I want some Mexican food,” Zilla said, already pulling on his hoodie.

Dahlia’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I think Ranchero is open.”

Zilla raised an eyebrow. “The buffet?”

“Duhhhh,” Dahlia teased, grinning.

“Alright, let’s do it,” Zilla said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “But I gotta go get my car first.”

“That’s fine,” Dahlia said, sliding out of bed and stretching. “Take an Uber, get your car, and I’ll be here getting ready.”

Zilla leaned over and kissed her softly. “Bet. I’ll be back soon.”

Dahlia watched him gather his things, throwing on his sneakers and grabbing his wallet. As he left, the door clicked softly behind him, and the room fell quiet again.

For a moment, she just stood there, smiling to herself. It felt surreal having Zilla here after everything. But the warmth that lingered from his kiss and his presence reminded her that this was real, that maybe they could make this work.

Finally, Dahlia shook herself out of her thoughts. She walked over to her small dresser and began picking out clothes. She didn’t want to dress up too much—it was just a casual breakfast—but she wanted to look cute. After some debate, she settled on a pair of high-waisted jeans and a fitted tank top, throwing a light cardigan over it.

She ran her fingers through her hair, glancing in the mirror before grabbing her makeup bag. As she dabbed on some concealer and mascara, she felt a little flutter in her chest. It was silly, she thought, but she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. This wasn’t just an afternoon meal. It felt like a fresh start.

—

Zilla stepped out of the Uber, thanking the driver before making his way up the short path to the house he shared with his mom. He unlocked the door and called out, “Ma! I’m home!”

From the kitchen, he heard the shuffle of slippers before his mom appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. Her face was a mixture of love and annoyance as she raised an eyebrow at him. “Since when do we get off flights and go straight to a university, Isayah?”

Zilla smirked, dropping his bag by the door. “Hello to you, too, Ma,” he said with a laugh, walking toward her.

His mom wasn’t amused, keeping her stern look. “I’m serious. You landed, and instead of coming home, you’re off running around? You better not be messing up, boy.”

“I was just seeing a friend,” Zilla replied casually, leaning in to hug her.

“A friend, huh?” she said, her voice dripping with skepticism as she returned the hug. “Since when do ‘friends’ have you sneaking around?”

Zilla chuckled and pulled back, grinning. “You’re so dramatic, Ma. It’s not like that.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Isayah… you’re a goofball.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, flashing a playful grin. “I gotta go get dressed, though.”

His mom crossed her arms. “Dressed? You just got here! Where do you think you’re running off to now?”

Zilla grabbed his bag and started walking toward his room. “I’m grabbing breakfast with my friend. Don’t worry, Ma, I won’t be gone long.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” she said, shaking her head as he disappeared down the hall. “You better not be getting into trouble, boy!”

Zilla laughed from his room. “No trouble, Ma. I promise!”

His mom sighed, muttering to herself, “That boy’s always up to something.” But deep down, she was happy to see him. It wasn’t often he made it back home, and despite his antics, she loved having him around.

In his room, Zilla quickly changed into a fresh black hoodie and a pair of ripped jeans. He grabbed his cologne and sprayed a little, glancing at himself in the mirror. “Alright,” he muttered to himself, running a hand over his hair. “Let’s go.”

Before heading out, he stopped in the kitchen where his mom was stirring something on the stove. “I’ll catch you later, Ma.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, not turning around. “Be good, Isayah.”

He kissed her cheek and grinned. “Always.”

With that, he headed out to his car, ready to get back to Dahlia.

—

Zilla leaned back in his chair, taking a long sip of his Coke before setting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Man, that was fantastic,” he said, his grin wide.

Dahlia shook her head, laughing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone go up to the buffet seven times.”

Zilla chuckled, rubbing his stomach. “What can I say? It’s hard to stop when it’s that good.” He leaned in with a smirk. “But I think I pissed some of the abuelitas off.”

Dahlia raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, they definitely gave you the side-eye when you asked for more carnitas, Zilla.”

Zilla laughed, shaking his head. “Fair enough. But hey, call me Isayah from now on. Zilla’s my wrestling name.”

Dahlia paused for a moment, testing it out. “Okay, Isayah,” she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Zilla tilted his head, his grin turning softer as he leaned forward. “That sounds good coming from you.”

Dahlia’s cheeks warmed, and she quickly changed the subject. “So, what’s on the agenda?”

He leaned back, pretending to think. “Hmm, not much planned. What about you?”

“Well,” Dahlia started, twirling her straw in her iced tea, “if you’re up for it, we could go to the Museum of Natural Science. I’ve been wanting to see the King Tut Exhibit.”

Zilla’s eyes lit up. “The King Tut Exhibit? That sounds dope. I haven’t been to a museum since I was a kid!”

Dahlia grinned. “Perfect, then. It’s about time you brushed up on some history.”

Zilla laughed, grabbing his drink for another sip. “Alright, let’s do it. But only if we can hit up the gift shop after. I want a cool magnet or something.”

“Deal,” Dahlia said, her excitement evident.

Zilla grabbed the check from the table, standing up. “Alright then, let’s get outta here before I embarrass myself by going for round eight.”

Dahlia laughed as she grabbed her bag and followed him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And you love it,” he teased, holding the door open for her as they stepped out into the warm Houston air, the day ahead of them filled with possibilities.

Zilla held the car door open for Dahlia, his eyes meeting hers with a warm, reassuring smile. She stepped inside, her heart doing a little flip as he gently closed the door behind her. Moments later, Zilla slid into the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. The soft hum of the car’s engine mixed with the quiet tones of the radio as they made their way toward the Museum of Natural Science.

The sun had begun its descent, painting the Houston skyline with streaks of gold and amber. As they waited at a stoplight, Zilla reached over, his hand brushing hers before settling on top of it. Dahlia glanced at him, her breath catching slightly at the softness in his smile. She let their fingers intertwine, feeling a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You look excited,” Zilla said, his voice teasing but kind.

“I am,” Dahlia admitted. “I’ve been wanting to see this exhibit for weeks.”

“Then let’s make it memorable,” Zilla replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before returning it to the wheel.

When they arrived, the museum was alive with quiet chatter and the soft shuffle of feet. Dahlia practically bounced as they entered the King Tut Exhibit, her enthusiasm contagious. Zilla followed her lead, taking in the intricate artifacts and detailed stories of ancient Egypt.

“This is wild,” he said, leaning closer to read the description of a golden sarcophagus. “Imagine living back then. They really believed you’d take all this with you to the afterlife?”

Dahlia chuckled. “You’re not a history buff, are you?”

“I’m learning,” he replied with a grin. “But I think they might’ve gone overboard with the gold.”

She laughed, her eyes lighting up as she shared stories about the artifacts. Zilla listened intently, occasionally cracking a joke that left her giggling. It wasn’t just the exhibit that made the evening special; it was the way he made her feel—like she was the only person in the room.

After a couple of hours, they stepped out of the museum to find the city bathed in the deep orange and pink hues of the setting sun. The air was warm and soft, the perfect end to a perfect day.

“This is beautiful,” Dahlia murmured, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

Zilla tilted his head, studying her profile for a moment. “It really is,” he said, his voice low, “but I think you’ve got it beat.”

Dahlia turned to him, rolling her eyes with a laugh. “Cheesy much?”

“Always,” he shot back with a grin.

They decided to take a walk, the streets quiet and peaceful as the day faded into evening. Dahlia felt herself relaxing, every moment with Zilla making her heart feel lighter. She didn’t think she’d stop smiling until a sudden burst of squeals interrupted them.

“Oh my God, it’s Zilla Fatu!”

A group of girls, barely older than Dahlia, rushed toward them. Zilla blinked in surprise but quickly turned on his easy charm, signing autographs and posing for pictures.

“Can I get a selfie?” one of the girls asked, her phone already in hand.

“Of course,” Zilla said, leaning down slightly to fit into the frame.

What started as a small group quickly grew as more fans recognized him. Dahlia found herself stepping back, giving the crowd space. She tried to stay close, but the excitement of the fans pushed her farther and farther away until she was practically invisible.

Eventually, she gave up and sat on a nearby bench, her smile fading as she watched Zilla laugh and interact with the crowd. It wasn’t jealousy—it was something deeper, a reminder of how small she felt in his world.

After what felt like forever, Zilla finally noticed her. His eyes scanned the crowd before landing on her slouched figure, and his smile faltered.

“Alright, y’all,” he said, raising a hand. “That’s it for me tonight. I gotta go.”

The fans groaned in protest, but Zilla stayed firm, offering a final wave before weaving his way through the thinning crowd.

When he reached her, he crouched in front of the bench, his face full of concern. “Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

Dahlia shrugged, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. You didn’t have to cut them off.”

“Of course I did,” Zilla replied, his tone serious. “I’m here with you, Dahlia. I didn’t realize it got so crazy.”

She looked away, biting her lip. “It’s fine. I get it. They caught your eyes..”

Zilla reached for her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers. “Not as much as you have my heart right now...”

Dahlia’s breath hitched, her eyes snapping back to his. She searched his face, half-expecting him to laugh it off, but all she saw was sincerity.

“You mean that?” she asked, her voice laced with flattery.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ve never felt like this with anyone, Dahlia. I don’t want you to feel like you’re in the background. Not with me.”

She blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry. Instead, she squeezed his hand and stood, pulling him up with her.

“Come on,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Let’s finish this walk.”

Zilla smiled, slipping his arm around her shoulders as they strolled down the quiet street. The crowd, the museum, even the sunset—it all faded away. In that moment, it was just the two of them, and Dahlia felt, for the first time, like she wasn’t just a fleeting moment in someone’s life. She was part of something real, something that might just last.

—

A couple of days later, on Friday, May 2nd, Zilla kissed his mom goodbye as he boarded the plane. It was always bittersweet leaving home, but the thrill of the road kept him focused. The engine roared to life, and once it was safe to connect to the WiFi, Zilla quickly paid for the service, his thoughts already drifting to Dahlia.

He tapped out a quick message: I miss you already.

It didn’t take long for Dahlia to reply: We’ve been together every night ;)

Zilla smiled, his heart skipping a beat. He replied: I’m looking at the pictures and smiling.

Dahlia’s message came back almost instantly: Which one is your favorite?

Zilla leaned back in his seat, scrolling through the photos they had taken over the past few days. Each one was a snapshot of their time together, a memory he couldn’t let go of. His eyes lingered on the one where she had kissed his neck, her lips soft and teasing, her eyes filled with mischief. He grinned as he typed: The one of you kissing my neck.

Dahlia’s response was playful: You are such a flirt.

Zilla chuckled, shaking his head as he replied: Only for you.

They continued texting, Zilla feeling lighter with every message. He couldn’t help but be happy he’d finally listened to his cousin’s advice about taking things with Dahlia slow but steady. His heart felt full in a way it hadn’t in a long time, and he was glad to have someone who made him feel at ease.

A few hours later, the plane touched down in Sacramento, California. Zilla grabbed his bags and made his way off the plane, ready to get back to work. He pulled out his phone and called Joseph.

“Yo, I’m at the airport. You here?”

Joseph’s voice came through the phone loud and clear: “I’m in the SUV already, man. I’m waiting for you up front.”

Zilla hung up and headed toward the front of the airport, eager to catch up with his cousin. As he stepped outside, he saw Joseph’s SUV, and both Joseph and Jacob waved at him.

He climbed into the back seat and slammed the door shut.

Jacob smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s got you all in a happy mood?”

Zilla couldn’t help but grin, his mind still on Dahlia. “Just… something special.”

Joseph laughed. “Don’t tell me, you’re falling for her already?”

Zilla shot him a playful look. “Maybe. Maybe not. But it’s good, man.”

Jacob gave him a teasing glance in the rearview mirror. “Good? I’ll bet. You’re practically glowing.”

Zilla smiled, settling into the seat as they drove off. For the first time in a long time, things felt right.

—

As Friday Night SmackDown roared on, the backstage area was buzzing with energy. Zilla sat in the locker room, taping up his hands with precision. The excitement coursed through him as he prepared for his match against Sami Zayn later that night. This match was a big deal, being part of the heated Roman vs. Solo feud, and Zilla was ready to prove himself once again.

He looked up as the door opened, and in walked his cousin Jey Uso, holding the Money in the Bank briefcase he’d won at WrestleMania 41. The gold shimmered under the fluorescent lights, a constant reminder of Jey’s climb to the top.

“Hey, Uce!” Jey greeted, extending his hand.

Zilla stood up and shook his hand firmly. “What’s good, Uso? How are you? And how’s your gothic wife?”

Jey burst into laughter, shaking his head as he leaned the briefcase against the wall. “Awh, shit, Rhea’s doing good. She’s about twenty-three weeks along now.”

Zilla smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Twenty-three weeks? Damn, you really finna’ be a dad at almost forty?”

Jey rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t fade. “Man, don’t play me like that. I still got it.”

Zilla chuckled, gesturing to the briefcase. “Yeah, I see. Winning Money in the Bank and keeping up with Rhea? You might just be Superman.”

Jey shrugged, crossing his arms. “What can I say? It’s all about balance. But enough about me—what’s up with you? Ready to take on Sami tonight?”

Zilla nodded, his expression growing serious. “Always ready. Sami’s good, but I’m better. This match? It’s mine.”

Jey clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear. Keep that energy, Uce. We all watching.”

Zilla grinned, the fire in his eyes unmistakable. “You know I’m bringing it.”

Jey leaned against the lockers, watching his cousin finish prepping. “By the way, you gotta bring that girl of yours to the next family BBQ. Everyone’s asking.”

Zilla paused, smirking. “Dahlia? Yeah, maybe. We’ll see how things go. She’s kinda shy.”

Jey chuckled. “Shy? She with you, ain’t she? She’ll fit right in. Bring her by; Rhea’ll keep her company.”

Zilla nodded, finishing the last wrap on his hands. “I’ll think about it. But first, I gotta handle business tonight.”

Jey pushed off the locker and grabbed his briefcase. “Handle it, then. I’ll catch you later, Uce.”

As Jey walked out of the room, Zilla couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. His family was watching, and tonight, he was ready to make them proud.

—

After Zilla’s match, he found himself in a bar with Jacob, Alipate, Joseph, and Jey. They were all having a great time, drinking and laughing together. Jey, in particular, was excited, showing a video to Joseph of Rhea’s belly kicking. Zilla couldn’t help but smile at the family moment. The alcohol had started to hit him, and by the time he realized it, he was feeling pretty buzzed, maybe even a bit more than that.

“I’m gonna go hit the bathroom,” Zilla muttered, standing up from the table.

He made his way to the back of the bar, relieved himself, and washed his hands. As he exited the bathroom, not paying much attention to his surroundings, he heard a voice call out.

“Fresh Meat.”

Zilla turned and saw Cora Jade standing there, a smirk on her face.

“Ha, real funny,” he said, trying to cover his surprise.

Cora raised an eyebrow, her playful grin still there. “How’s SmackDown treating you?”

“It’s treating me real good,” Zilla replied. “Did you get called up too?”

Cora nodded. “Yeah, didn’t you catch my match earlier?”

Zilla chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry, I didn’t.”

Cora’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “What, you don’t wanna dance?”

Zilla was about to answer when he felt a slight buzz take over, the alcohol clouding his better judgment. He thought about Dahlia for a second, but something about Cora’s confidence made him hesitate.

“I’m a little tipsy,” Zilla said with a small laugh, but Cora didn’t seem to mind.

She stepped closer to him, and in an instant, she took his hand with a playful glint in her eyes.

“It’s pretty easy to guide someone,” Cora said smoothly. “Come on.”

Before Zilla could protest, she pulled him toward the dance floor. He followed her, unsure of what he was doing but caught up in the moment. The music around them thumped, loud and exciting, and Cora began to sway to the rhythm.

Zilla, still a little unsure of himself, hesitated. “I told you, I’m not much of a dancer.”

Cora laughed, glancing back at him. “Good thing I can carry this whole dance for us, Fresh Meat,” she teased.

Zilla couldn’t help but chuckle despite the growing sense of unease. As Cora moved closer, guiding him to match her rhythm, Zilla felt the pull of the night, the alcohol, and the attention, but a part of him wondered if this was the right direction.

[queenofbaws]

! Pride Month Challenge 2024 !

Well hi there, everyone! With May winding down to a close and June just around the corner, it's about that time again...the time where @jadedsunshine, @unicornaffair, and I host our yearly create-a-thon! 🥳

What's the Pride Month Challenge, you might find yourself asking? Well, this year it's a little bingo game we've put together, featuring some classic tropes. The aim of this particular game? Make something!!! Anything! Just get those creative juices a-flowin' and see if you can snag a B-I-N-G-O along the way!

This challenge is open to everyone and anyone who wants to take part, whether you know the three of us or not! We're going to be using the tag #pridemonthchallenge2024 for the stuff we create, so if you decide to join in on the fun and games, feel free to stick that tag on whatever you make, too! If you're interested in more details, you can check below the cut or reach out and ask ;)c

Either way, happy almost-pride, and happy creating!!!

I don't write fic - can I still participate?

Ab. So. Lutely!!! We've done this challenge for a few years now (we've missed a year or two for weddings and other life stuff, whoops!), but in the past we've had people doodle, sketch, draw, make edits, create props or other physical art, and even curate playlists! The three of us are writers, so you're very likely to see fic or ficlets from us...but you? Oh. Oh, you can do whatever your heart desires!!!

Are there word limits/expectations for a finished product?

NO!!! :D Zero. Literally zero expectations. We aren't putting together an exchange, we aren't holding a competition, we're just trying to get the spirit of creation in the air. That's it! So whether you're writing 50 words or 5,000, whether you've made a rough sketch on a notebook page or fully lined/colored a scene, you're good! You're so good. As long as you've made something, you've earned a stamp on that bingo card, baby!!!

What if I don't want to do something fandom-y? Can it be OCs/original work?

OF COURSE!!! 100%. You don't even have to ask!!! Show the world your OCs! Tell the world about your story's worldbuilding! It's all fair game :)

What if I don't want to post what I made?

Don't sweat it! Again, this is...the farthest thing from official. This is for fun, and this is for the sake of making something. Sharing your work can be nerve-wracking - don't feel like you have to! We'd love to see you playing along with us, of course, but as long as you've made something that you're proud of, you've earned that stamp! No ifs, ands, or buts!

Is it cool if my creations aren't necessarily pride-themed?

Totally! We host this challenge during pride month because (1) it traditionally works better for the three of us than NaNoWriMo because of our schedules, and (2) we're queer creators ourselves! But if you're feeling a prompt and can't find a way to make it relevant to pride, PLEASE don't sweat it! As I've been known to say (and then get laughed at for saying), this challenge is no rules, just right, Outback Steakhouse :P

Let's say I get a bingo...what do I win?

:) Nothing. <3

Wait, really?

:) Really <3 Hehehe, in all seriousness, this challenge has been a fun way for us to sit down, take our minds off of life and our bigger projects and just...make some fun stuff! In our humble opinion(s), being able to point at a finished piece and say "I did that! I made that!" is its own kind of reward. The bingo board itself is really more for bragging rights ;)c Which, of course, we encourage wholeheartedly. Nothing wrong with a little bragging!!!

We hope to have you along for our month-long adventure! Again, we're going to be using the tag #pridemonthchallenge2024 for our own stuff, so if you'd like to use that tag - or tag any of us!!! - in whatever you end up creating, feel free!!! We love seeing what everyone comes up with, and this challenge is always so much more fun, knowing other people are taking part! <3 Hope to see you along for the ride!

*The bingo board was made by the lovely @jadedsunshine 🥰

[shiorihyugawrites]

The Devil's Bride

Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, was taken from him when they were children. After years of suffering under Marleyan control, Aurora is reunited with Eren while he’s undercover in Marley, igniting a bond neither of them expected. Despite her gentle nature, Aurora breaks her vow of pacifism to save Eren’s life, solidifying their deep connection. Secretly married before the Raid on Liberio, Aurora is swept into Eren's world of chaos and destruction. As the Scouts learn of her existence, tensions rise on the airship home. Mikasa’s heart shatters, and Levi demands answers. And Eren will stop at nothing to protect the only light left in his dark world—his bride, Aurora.

In this journey of love, loyalty, and war, Aurora must reconcile her innocent heart with the brutal reality of the man she loves, while Eren faces the truth of what he’s become. (Eren x OC)

Chapter Twenty Five

One Month Later

A month had passed, and the Jaegerists had grown stronger, their numbers swelling as Paradis Island fully transitioned into a military state under Eren’s command. Eren's vision of unity through domination was materializing faster than anyone anticipated, thanks to his alliance with Historia and the relentless work of Floch.

Far away from the Jaegerists' compound, in the dense forests of Paradis, Floch Forster was leading a relentless pursuit. His goal: eliminate Levi and Mikasa Ackerman once and for all. Over the past month, he had launched countless tracking missions with a select group of loyal Jaegerists, but the Ackermans proved elusive.

Floch crouched near the remnants of a campfire. The faint embers suggested it had been extinguished only hours ago. His sharp eyes scanned the area, searching for any trace of Mikasa and Levi.

“They were here,” he muttered, signaling to the Jaegerists behind him. “They’re close.”

One of his men frowned. “How do they keep slipping away? Every time we corner them, she bolts. And she’s impossible to catch with her gear.”

Floch’s jaw clenched. “Because she’s an Ackerman. She’s not like us. Mikasa’s instincts are unnatural.” He stood, his frustration barely contained. “But she can’t keep running forever. She’s dragging around an injured Levi. He’s dead weight, and eventually, they’ll slip.”

Another Jaegerist stepped forward, glancing at Floch warily. “Do you think Eren knows about this?”

Floch’s eyes darkened. “Eren doesn’t need to know. Mikasa is his blind spot. He’s too sentimental to deal with them properly. That’s why we’re here—to do what needs to be done.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances but didn’t question him further. Floch’s determination was unshakable, and his hatred for the Ackermans burned brighter with every failed attempt to capture them.

Back at the compound, Aurora was bustling around her workspace, surrounded by vials, herbs, and notes. Over the past month, her elixirs had become an integral part of the Jaegerists' regimen. Soldiers reported noticeable improvements in stamina and endurance after weeks of consuming her mixtures, and their loyalty to Aurora grew alongside their respect for her work.

Eren entered the room quietly, leaning against the doorframe as he watched his wife. She was utterly absorbed in her task, her focus unwavering as she carefully measured out a glowing liquid into a small vial.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” he said, his voice breaking the silence.

Aurora looked up, a smile spreading across her face when she saw him. “Eren! You’re back early.”

He approached her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “I couldn’t stay away,” he murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You’re amazing, you know that? The soldiers swear by your elixirs.”

Her cheeks flushed with pride. “I just want to help. This is my way of contributing.”

Eren placed a gentle kiss on her temple. “You’re doing more than enough. And,” he added, placing a hand over her stomach, “you’re already giving me the most important contribution.”

Aurora’s eyes softened as she placed her hand over his. She was now two and a half months pregnant, and though her bump hadn’t appeared yet, the anticipation of seeing it every day filled her with joy. “I can’t wait for us to meet them,” she whispered.

Eren nodded, his expression softening in a way it rarely did. “Me too.”

…

Later that evening, Eren descended into the basement of the compound. The air was cold and heavy, and the dim lighting cast long shadows across the walls. In the center of the room, a large crystalline cocoon stood like a statue encasing five figures—Hange, Armin, Jean, Connie, and Sasha.

Eren approached Armin, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He placed a hand on the smooth surface, his expression unreadable.

“Why can’t you see it, Armin?” he whispered. “Why can’t any of you see it? This is the only way.”

His voice wavered, the flicker of guilt he refused to acknowledge threatening to break through. “You always believed in me, didn’t you? You thought I could save everyone. But I can’t. Not without this.”

His eyes flickered to Jean, then Hange, then Sasha, and Connie, his jaw tightening as he looked at their frozen form. “I’m sorry. I had no choice.”

Eren’s thoughts turned to Mikasa, and a pang of regret pierced his chest. He knew she was still out there, running and fighting. He had let her go because, deep down, he still cared for her. But he couldn’t let her or Levi interfere.

Finally, he stepped back, his gaze sweeping over the room. “When this is over,” he said quietly, “I’ll set you free. I promise.”

Upstairs, Floch gathered a few trusted Jaegerists to discuss their ongoing mission. Despite his public confidence, the hunt for Levi and Mikasa was wearing on him.

“They’re out there, regrouping,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “Levi’s injured, but he’s not dead. And Mikasa…” He shook his head. “She’s a problem.”

One of the soldiers hesitated. “Do you think we should inform Eren?”

“No,” Floch snapped. “Eren has enough to deal with. This is our responsibility.”

As the meeting ended, Floch glanced out the window, his resolve hardening. The Ackermans were a threat he couldn’t ignore, and he wouldn’t rest until they were eliminated.

The stage was set, and the pieces were in motion. The Jaegerists were stronger than ever, but danger loomed on the horizon—from Marley, from Mikasa and Levi, and from the cracks of doubt forming within Eren himself.

…

Night had fallen over Historia’s farm, and the Jaegerists' compound was quiet. The distant sound of crickets filled the air, but inside a dimly lit bedroom, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken thoughts. Aurora sat cross-legged on the bed, her gaze fixed on Eren, who stood by the window, his silhouette framed against the moonlight. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw tense.

“Eren,” Aurora said softly, her voice breaking the silence. “You’re doing it again.”

He didn’t turn to look at her, but she could see his fingers twitch slightly. “Doing what?” he replied curtly.

Aurora sighed. “Getting lost in your head. I can see it, you know. The way your shoulders stiffen, the way you avoid looking at me. You’re carrying too much.”

Eren’s gaze remained fixed on the darkness outside. “I’m fine.”

Aurora wasn’t convinced. She scooted closer to the edge of the bed, her feet brushing against the cold floor as she stood and walked toward him. Placing a hand gently on his arm, she coaxed him to face her. “You don’t have to lie to me, Eren. I can feel it—your guilt. You think you’ve hidden it well, but you haven’t.”

For a moment, Eren stayed silent, his green eyes flickering with emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. Then, he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. “I trapped them, Aurora. Armin, Hange, Jean, Connie, Sasha... even Mikasa.” His voice wavered, the weight of his confession thickening the air. “They were my friends. And I betrayed them.”

Aurora’s heart ached at the pain etched into his features. She reached up to cup his face, forcing him to look at her. “You didn’t betray them, Eren. You’re trying to protect them. You’re trying to protect all of us.”

“They don’t see it that way,” he muttered bitterly. “They think I’ve lost my mind. They think I’m the enemy now.”

“They’ll understand one day,” Aurora said, her voice firm but soothing. “When they see what you’re fighting for, when they see the world you’re trying to create, they’ll understand.”

Eren closed his eyes briefly, leaning into her touch. “They experienced the world beyond Paradis,” he said after a pause. “They saw the beauty—the laughter, the kindness in people like Ramzi and the others in that refugee camp. And now, they’re blinded by it. They can’t see the truth. They can’t see how cruel the world really is.”

Aurora stroked his cheek gently, her mind racing for the right words. “You’re not wrong, Eren. The world is cruel. I’ve lived through that cruelty just like you. But you’ve always known that there’s no place for sentimentality in a fight for survival. I wish they could see that too.”

“They won’t,” Eren said flatly. “Especially Mikasa. She’s too tied to the idea of who she thinks I am. She doesn’t see me for who I’ve become. She never could.”

Aurora hesitated before speaking, her voice tinged with concern. “Maybe you could try reasoning with her again. Mikasa isn’t like the others. She loves you, Eren. I think if anyone could understand you, it’s her.”

Eren shook his head, pulling away from her touch and pacing the room. “I’ve tried. She won’t listen. She’s too blinded by her own feelings, by her loyalty to me. And besides...” He stopped and turned to face Aurora, his expression hardening. “She’s with Captain Levi.”

Aurora tensed slightly at the mention of Levi. Her gaze dropped to her hands, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her dress. “Captain Levi,” she murmured. “I didn’t finish him, did I?”

Eren’s eyes softened slightly as he noticed her shift in demeanor. “No,” he said. “But it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” Aurora said quickly. “But still, if he’s alive, then he’s probably their biggest hope. Mikasa is likely taking care of him somewhere, waiting for a chance to strike back.”

Eren walked back to her, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. “Levi is dangerous, but he’s not invincible. I’ve planned for this, Aurora. I’ve planned for everything.”

Aurora looked up at him, her wide eyes filled with both trust and fear. “I just... I wish there was more I could do, Eren. For you, for us. I hate feeling helpless.”

“You’re not helpless,” Eren said firmly, his grip tightening slightly. “You’ve done more for me than anyone else ever could. Without you, none of this would’ve been possible.”

Aurora felt a lump in her throat as his words sank in. “I just want to protect you, Eren. You and our baby. That’s all I care about.”

Eren’s eyes softened further as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “And that’s why I need you to rest. You’re doing enough, Aurora. More than enough.”

She nodded reluctantly, allowing him to guide her back to the bed. As they lay down together, Eren wrapped his arms protectively around her, holding her close. The warmth of his body against hers was comforting, and for a brief moment, the weight of their world seemed to fade.

“Do you think Mikasa will ever forgive me?” Eren asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aurora hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I think she will. But it’ll take time. Right now, she’s hurting. Just like you.”

Eren closed his eyes, his mind replaying the memories of his friends’ faces, now frozen in crystal. “I never wanted it to be this way,” he murmured. “But I had no choice.”

Aurora nestled closer to him, her hand resting over his heart. “You’re doing what you have to, Eren. And I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way.”

As Eren held her tighter, he silently vowed to himself that no matter what happened, he wouldn’t let anything or anyone harm his family again. The world was cruel, but he would be crueler if that’s what it took to keep them safe.

…

The next morning, the sun had barely risen over the farm when Eren prepared to leave for the Reiss Chapel. He is determined to unlock more of his father’s memories through physical contact with Historia. It had worked for him before at the funeral for the fallen scouts years ago, and he figures the Reiss Chapel is the best place to possibly unlock more memories.

 His expression was stoic as always, but Aurora could see the determination in his eyes as he kissed her goodbye. “Stay safe,” he whispered, his hands lingering on her stomach for a moment before stepping away.

“I always am,” Aurora replied softly, watching as he joined Historia and a small group of Jaegerists. They mounted their horses, and within minutes, they were gone, leaving the compound under heavy guard.

Aurora sighed and turned back toward the farmhouse. Her work on the elixirs awaited her, and with every passing day, she felt more pressure to make them as effective as possible. She knew Marley would retaliate soon, and the Jaegerists would need every advantage they could get.

Inside the farmhouse, Aurora was tending to a minor wound on one of the newer recruits. The young man winced as she applied a salve, but Aurora worked with practiced efficiency, her hands steady.

“Hold still,” she said, her tone calm but firm. “This will sting for a moment, but it’ll keep the wound from getting infected.”

The recruit nodded, biting his lip as she tied the bandage snugly around his arm. “Thank you, Mrs. Jaeger.”

Aurora managed a small smile, though the title still felt strange to her. “Be more careful next time,” she advised, standing and gathering her supplies.

As she walked toward the kitchen to clean her hands, she overheard hushed voices coming from a nearby room. Her sharp ears caught snippets of the conversation, and she froze in place when she heard a name that sent a chill down her spine.

“Floch’s orders... He’s still tracking Mikasa and Levi,” a voice whispered.

Aurora froze mid-motion, her hands hovering over her supplies. Her sharp ears caught every word.

“He says if Eren won’t handle them, he will,” another voice added. “Levi’s in bad shape, and Mikasa’s just running. It’s only a matter of time.”

Aurora’s chest tightened. She took a deep breath, her mind racing. Floch was hunting them? Without Eren’s knowledge? She wiped her hands on a towel, excused herself from the recruit she was helping, and walked briskly toward the barracks where Floch was stationed.

He stood outside, surrounded by a group of Jaegerists. He barked orders, his posture commanding as the recruits practiced their drills. Aurora didn’t wait for him to finish; she approached with purpose, her expression calm but determined.

“Floch,” Aurora called out.

Floch turned, his eyebrows raising slightly at the tone in her voice. “Aurora,” he greeted, though his tone lacked warmth. “What can I do for you?”

Aurora didn’t mince words. “What’s this I hear about you hunting Mikasa and Levi?”

Floch’s eyes flickered with surprise, but he quickly composed himself. “I don’t see why that concerns you.”

Aurora’s expression didn’t waver. “It concerns me because Eren doesn’t know about it, and you’re acting without his orders.”

Floch crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “Eren is too soft when it comes to them. He let Mikasa escape, and Levi is still out there. We both know how dangerous they are. If they regroup, they’ll come for us.”

Aurora shook her head, her voice calm but firm. “Eren doesn’t want them, especially Mikasa dead unless there’s no other choice. You’re overstepping.”

Floch stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Overstepping? Aurora, Eren is blinded by sentiment. Mikasa and Levi are threats. If he won’t deal with them, then it’s my responsibility to do what needs to be done.”

Aurora frowned, her tone softening but not losing its resolve. “Floch, this isn’t about responsibility. This is about trust. Eren trusts you to follow his orders, not to act on your own.”

Floch scoffed. “And what about you? You think you’re the voice of reason here? You’ve only been here a few weeks and already you think you can call shots around here?”

Aurora’s gaze didn’t falter. “This isn’t about me. It’s about the mission. If we start fighting amongst ourselves, we’ll lose focus on the real enemy. Marley is out there, preparing to destroy us. We don’t have the luxury of personal vendettas.”

Floch hesitated, her words hitting a nerve. The recruits nearby had stopped their drills, their attention subtly drifting toward the heated conversation. Aurora noticed but kept her voice steady.

“Call off the hunt,” she said, softer now but still resolute. “If Eren wants to handle them, he will. But it has to be his decision, not yours.”

Floch’s jaw tightened, his pride wounded, but he could see he was outmatched. “Fine,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “But don’t come crying to me when they show up and ruin everything.”

Aurora nodded, relieved but wary. “Thank you, Floch. Let’s focus on what matters.”

As she walked back to the farmhouse, she let out a shaky breath. Confronting Floch had been nerve-wracking, but she couldn’t let his recklessness jeopardize everything. She returned to her lab and sat down, her hands trembling slightly.

She didn’t want to be at odds with anyone, but she couldn’t stand by and let Floch undermine Eren’s authority. They were all fighting for the same goal—survival. Personal vendettas had no place here.

Aurora picked up her tools and went back to work, though her mind lingered on Floch’s words. “Eren is blinded by sentiment.” Was that true? Or was it simply that Eren still had hope for his friends, even after everything?

She didn’t know the answer, but one thing was certain: she would do everything in her power to protect her family, even if it meant stepping into the line of fire.

…

As the sun began to set, the tension hung heavy in the farmhouse, even after Floch reluctantly agreed to Aurora’s demand. She had watched him walk away, his shoulders stiff with frustration, but her instincts told her the conversation wasn’t over. Floch was a fanatic, and fanatics didn’t abandon their missions easily. Aurora leaned against the wooden wall, gripping the edge of her table tightly. Her pulse raced as she considered her next move.

Floch had lied to her. She could feel it.

Her hands trembled as she packed her herbalist bag with vials of elixirs and antidotes. She needed to be ready for anything. Time was running out, and she couldn’t afford to be unprepared. The image of Eren’s devastated face if something happened to Mikasa haunted her. Despite everything, Mikasa was still family to Eren—someone he loved deeply in his own way. Aurora couldn’t bear the thought of adding more pain to his already heavy burden.

She burst into the central hall, her boots clicking against the wooden floor. A group of Jaegerists, about half a dozen, stood around the table discussing their latest assignments. They turned as she entered, their expressions wary but curious.

“We’re leaving,” Aurora announced, her voice steady and commanding.

One of the men, a broad-shouldered recruit with a scruffy beard, frowned. “Leaving? Under whose orders?”

“Mine,” Aurora replied, her gaze unwavering. “Floch, he’s gone after Mikasa and Levi, and we’re going to stop him.”

The Jaegerists exchanged uneasy glances. “With all due respect, Mrs. Jaeger,” another soldier spoke up, “Floch is our commanding officer. We can’t disobey him.”

Aurora squared her shoulders, her voice sharpening. “Floch doesn’t have the authority to act without Eren’s orders. And as your Commander’s wife, I am ordering you to listen to me.”

Her words silenced the group, but hesitation lingered in their eyes. Aurora stepped closer, lowering her voice but making sure each word carried weight. “If Floch succeeds, do you think Eren will thank him? Do you think he’ll celebrate the death of Mikasa? No. He’ll see it as betrayal—and you’ll all pay the price.”

The Jaegerists exchanged looks again, this time with less certainty. The scruffy-bearded soldier finally nodded. “Alright. We’ll follow you.”

Relief washed over Aurora, but she didn’t let it show. “Good. Saddle your horses. We leave immediately.”

..

The group rode hard through the forest, Aurora leading the charge. The cold wind stung her face, and the rhythmic pounding of hooves filled the air. She clutched the reins tightly, her thoughts racing as fast as her horse. What exactly was she going to do when she caught up to Floch? She hadn’t thought that far ahead.

All she knew was that she couldn’t let him succeed.

The forest grew denser as they rode, the sunlight barely breaking through the thick canopy of leaves. Aurora’s heart pounded in her chest as she scanned the trail for signs of Floch’s passage. Broken branches, hoofprints in the mud—they were fresh. He wasn’t far ahead.

One of the Jaegerists riding beside her leaned over. “We’re gaining on them,” he said. “But what’s the plan when we catch up?”

Aurora’s grip on the reins tightened. “Leave Floch to me,” she said firmly. “You focus on stopping the others. No one gets near Mikasa or Levi.”

The soldier nodded, though his expression was skeptical. Aurora knew they doubted her, but she didn’t care. She had to do this.

As they crested a hill, Aurora spotted Floch and his squad in a clearing below. They had dismounted, their horses tied to trees, and were spreading out as they prepared to advance. Aurora’s stomach twisted as she saw the determination on their faces. They were ready to kill.

She raised a hand, signaling her group to halt. They dismounted quietly, tying their horses to the nearest trees. Aurora motioned for the Jaegerists to spread out and surround Floch’s group, ensuring they couldn’t retreat.

Taking a deep breath, Aurora stepped forward, her boots crunching against the leaves. “Floch!” she called, her voice cutting through the tension.

Floch turned, his expression darkening as he saw her. “Aurora,” he said, his tone dripping with irritation. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Aurora shot back. “You lied to me. You said you’d call off the hunt.”

Floch smirked, spreading his hands. “You didn’t really believe that, did you? Mikasa and Levi are threats, and if Eren won’t deal with them, I will.”

Aurora stepped closer, her jaw tightening. “This isn’t your decision to make, Floch. Eren doesn’t want them dead unless absolutely necessary.”

Floch’s smirk faded, replaced by a sneer. “Eren is blinded by his feelings. He’s too attached to the past to see what needs to be done. If you can’t see that, maybe you’re as blind as he is.”

Aurora’s fists clenched at her sides. “Don’t pretend this is about loyalty to Eren. This is about your own delusions of grandeur.”

The tension crackled like a live wire as the two faced off. The other Jaegerists shifted uncomfortably, unsure of where their loyalties lay. Aurora’s group stood behind her, their hands on their weapons, ready for her signal.

“You’re making a mistake,” Aurora said, her voice low but steady. “If you kill Mikasa and Levi, you’ll lose Eren’s trust forever. Do you really think he’ll forgive you?”

Floch hesitated for a fraction of a second, but his resolve hardened. “I’m not waiting for his forgiveness,” he said. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

Aurora’s mind raced. She could see the determination in Floch’s eyes. He wasn’t going to back down. But she couldn’t let him move forward, not without risking everything.

“Stand down, Floch,” she said, her voice firm. “This is your last warning.”

Floch’s hand moved to his weapon, but before he could draw it, Aurora raised her hand, signaling her Jaegerists to step forward. The clearing erupted into chaos as the two groups faced off, weapons drawn but no one willing to make the first move.

Aurora’s heart pounded as she locked eyes with Floch. She didn’t know how this would end, but she knew one thing for sure: she wouldn’t let him succeed. Not today.

…

Meanwhile, far on the edge of Paradis. Unbeknownst to Aurora and Floch, an even bigger problem was approaching…

A Marleyan ship glided silently through the fog toward Paradis’ abandoned shoreline. Onboard, Reiner Braun sat hunched, his hands gripping his knees tightly, his face a mask of exhaustion and grim determination. Beside him, Pieck Finger leaned casually against a crate, her sharp eyes scanning the dim horizon. The small team of Marleyan officers with them spoke in hushed tones, their unease palpable. This was not a standard mission—this was their chance to salvage what little control Marley had left after Eren Jaeger’s devastating raid on Liberio.

Reiner’s jaw clenched. Motivation had eluded him for so long. His spiraling failures haunted him: the Founding Titan slipping through his grasp four years ago, the catastrophic loss at Shiganshina, Bertholdt’s death, and then their devastating defeat in Liberio. Every loss weighed on his shoulders, every failure etched deeper into his mind. He was nothing more than a tool for Marley, one that had dulled over time.

“You have one last chance, Braun,” Magath had said coldly during their briefing. “Bring back Aurora Jaeger, or you’ll be deemed a liability.”

The unspoken threat had been clear: failure meant Reiner’s Armored Titan powers would be transferred to a new warrior candidate. And Reiner knew exactly who that candidate would be—his cousin, Gabi. The thought of Gabi enduring the curse of the Titans made his stomach churn. He couldn’t let that happen.

“You okay, Reiner?” Pieck’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts.

He looked up at her, her ever-calm demeanor offering little comfort. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure if he believed it.

Pieck studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You better be. This mission isn’t just about you.”

Reiner’s fists tightened. He knew what she meant. Eren Jaeger had completely turned the tides of their war. The Marleyan forces needed Aurora Jaeger as leverage—if the rumors were true, she was not just Eren’s wife but his greatest vulnerability. The intelligence they’d gathered on her suggested she had a unique role in his plans, though the specifics were unclear.

The ship slowed as it approached the shore, its engines nearly silent to avoid detection. The officers disembarked first, scanning the beach for any signs of scouts or Jaegerists. Pieck and Reiner followed, the faint crunch of sand under their boots sounding deafening in the tense silence.

“This place looks abandoned,” Pieck murmured. “But we should still be cautious. If the scouts find us here, we won’t have the element of surprise.”

Reiner nodded, his gaze sweeping the darkened landscape. The towering silhouette of Wall Maria loomed in the distance, a haunting reminder of the years he’d spent infiltrating Paradis. He knew this land better than anyone else on the mission, but that knowledge didn’t bring him comfort. Instead, it brought a sense of dread—he was back on the island where everything had gone wrong.

As they moved cautiously along the beach, Reiner’s mind drifted to the briefing when he first learned of Aurora Jaeger’s existence. He’d been half-conscious in the infirmary for weeks. He wasn't able to be present at the military briefing weeks ago when the Marleyan brass had discovered the existence of Aurora Jaeger. His mental health had deteriorated to a pitiful state and he had lost the will to live, therefore his Titan powers were not healing his body as it should’ve.

Reiner was lying in a cot in a hospital and wallowing in his despair, when Pieck had burst into his room.

“Eren Jaeger has a wife,” she’d said bluntly, shaking him awake. “Married her while undercover in Marley.”

Reiner had stared at her, uncomprehending at first. The idea of Eren, the enemy he’d fought tooth and nail, living a double life in Marley for seven months, was unfathomable. The thought of him finding someone to marry during that time felt like a cruel joke.

“Why are you telling me this?” he’d asked flatly.

“Because we’re being sent to capture her,” Pieck had replied. “And you’re coming with me.”

Reiner shook off the memory as they approached the treeline. The beach gave way to dense forest, and the group slowed their pace, mindful of potential ambushes. Reiner led the way, his familiarity with the terrain guiding them.

“We need to move quickly,” Pieck said, her tone clipped. “If the Jaegerists catch wind of us, we’ll lose any advantage we have.”

One of the officers spoke up. “Do we even know where to find her?”

“We know she’s likely wherever Eren is,” Reiner replied. “Eren would most likely be in his hometown, Shiganshina. Let’s start there.”

“And what if we don’t find her?” the officer asked nervously.

“We will,” Reiner said, his voice firm. He couldn’t afford to fail. Not this time. Gabi’s life was on the line.

The group pressed on, the towering trees casting long shadows under the moonlight. The air was heavy with tension, each crack of a twig beneath their boots making their nerves jolt. Pieck stayed alert, her Cart Titan abilities ready to activate at a moment’s notice.

Reiner’s thoughts churned as they moved deeper into Paradis. The weight of the mission bore down on him, but he couldn’t shake the lingering doubts. What kind of person was Aurora Jaeger? The reports painted her as a runaway slave from Marley, someone who had endured unimaginable cruelty. Yet she had fallen in love with Eren, the very man Reiner had spent years trying to destroy.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

“Focus, Reiner,” Pieck said quietly, sensing his distraction.

“I am,” he muttered, though the truth was far more complicated.

As they neared the edge of the forest, Wall Maria loomed closer, its massive structure casting an imposing shadow. Reiner slowed his pace, raising a hand to signal the group to stop.

“This is where it gets tricky,” he said, his voice low. “Eren will have patrols near the wall. We’ll need to avoid detection if we want to get close.”

“Leave that to me,” Pieck said with a small smirk. “I can scout ahead in my Cart Titan form. You just focus on keeping up.”

Reiner nodded, his jaw tightening. This mission wasn’t just about capturing Aurora Jaeger—it was about proving to himself and to Marley that he could still succeed. And if he failed, the consequences would be devastating.

As Pieck transformed and scouted ahead, Reiner steeled himself for what lay ahead. The fate of his cousin, his country, and perhaps even the war rested on his ability to find and capture the woman who had somehow become the heart of Eren Jaeger’s plans.

With a deep breath, Reiner stepped forward, leading the group closer to Wall Maria and whatever awaited them beyond its shadow.

~

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[ginger-grimm]

Another year has passed and though most of us live out our Pride all year round, it's officially our month to celebrate (almost). I've attempted this once before and unfortunately became too busy to finish it. This time things will be different. I've had an awful two months and it's time to turn stuff around. So please, join me in making some gifts for each other's OCs once again and make this month even more fun than it already is!

As a disclaimer, because I don't want to get too anxious about it again. I will only post your gift once you've posted one for me! It's happened a few too many times that people sent in either forms that aren't filled out properly or never posted a gift and I let it slide because I'm historically too nice (aka no backbone disease). I don't mean to sound like a nag and if you don't feel like editing you don't have to sign up or anything, that's why I do the polls. Anyways, your gift then you get mine.

The Rules and regulations are simple, but they exist nonetheless, so here they are:

The exchange, for now, is open until July 1st, though I may extend it who knows *Kevin James meme*

You may make 1-2 requests, but hey, I will probably reblog it saying you can make more once no one requests anything *Kevin James meme intensifies*

Please reblog this post to spread some awareness, please. You can like for remembrance but just a like doesn't count (you already know this, I know my 5 regulars who come here every time)!

As aforementioned, this is open to my regular drunks and new patrons alike, so please do not be shy. Think of me as I think of birds, I am more scared of you than you are of me.

Fill out the form linked below and find the password in the form!

Please only send me faceclaims with good quality and plenty of material to use. Also, no cartoon characters. Video game characters are all right if it's motion capture. I'm not trying to discriminate, it can just be really tough for me to find material for cartoons, animes, video games, etc. as I edit by making little video clips first blah blah blah. However, if you slide in my DMs we might be able to discuss some stuff.

Please, please, please fill out all the columns I need and choose at least two gift options. It makes it infinitely easier for me to make something for you. Just remember I can't read minds and it's worse when I can't find anything in your blogs.

Remember the pleases and thank you's, pleases and thank you's make my heart grow fond.

I don't do Harry Potter OCs or Stranger Things OCs and while I don't have a specific list of FCs I don't use, I ask that you do not request anything for overtly problematic actors, thank you!

I accept pretty much any gift in return, it can even be story reviews or playlists for people who don't/can't edit themselves. If it's a story review, please let me know in the form so I know you did as I don't check my accounts every day.

I'm fine with gifts for any of my OCs - my master list as well as the link to my Pinterest is in my pinned post.

Obviously, since this is a Pride exchange, please only send in LGBTQ+ OCs. Gay, lesbian, bi, pan, trans, etc. anything from the LGBTQ community - this excludes kinks and whatnot, obviously.

FOR ANY OTHER QUESTIONS OR CONCERNS FEEL FREE TO SEND ME A MESSAGE AND I WILL TRY TO CLEAR EVERYTHING UP!

SEND IN THE PRIDEFUL FORM HERE, HERE HERE HERE, DO IT HERE, NOWHERE ELSE JUST HERE

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[cyanide-latte]

TWST ficlet: Happy Birthday, Idia!

Words: 1,990

Warnings: None (though this does end sort of abruptly, oops. Also if you squint, you can technically see those hints of Phoenix Fire shipping.)

Characters: Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud, Wei Renqiao (my OC), Oisín Anbás cameo (@tixdixl 's OC)

Ignihyde dormitory wasn't known for having the most lively students among its number. They were notoriously reclusive, almost to the same degree that they were known for their diligence. But, with the event of their Housewarden's birthday upon them, a low buzz of chatter accompanied the normal hum of technology typically heard in those halls. The subject of the conversation remained tightly shut up in his room and as such all the dormmates felt the need to—all things considered—exchange their thoughts on the matter, if only in brief.

And only briefly; many of them had long since learned to avoid the decided wrath of Ortho Shroud and keep any disparaging opinions about Housewarden Idia quiet around him.

The younger Shroud in question was preoccupied, as it was, alongside his dormmate Oisín Anbás as the two of them assisted a third dormmate who was, yet again, biting off perhaps a bit more than he could chew.

The finishing touches really didn't need to take this long. Really, he could have counted his work done a week before. But Wei Renqiao was nothing if not thorough, and he took immense pride in his work. He was finishing up the final adjustment—it had to be just right—and barely even glancing up as he gently instructed his two friends where needed to tend to the food being cooked. It had taken so many months of hard work, but…but…

There. Finished at last.

"Wow…You look pretty proud of yourself, Ren!"

He shouldn't have startled at the comment but he did, and had to take a second to re-center before he offered a smile at Ortho.

"I suppose I feel entitled to, in this case," he answered, lifting an eyebrow. "With how much time I've put into making this."

"Can we see first?!"

[I'm sure you'll see it before long, Ortho,] an electronic text-to-speech voice interjected as Oisín spoke up. [But I would also like to take a look before it disappears into Idia's room forever.]

Ren didn't miss the accompanying "OwO" face that followed the last remark, and let out a soft chuckle. As if he wouldn't have shown the two of them before handing over his gift. Not when they were the only two who actually knew about it. Without another word, he stood and unfolded his project for them to behold, immensely pleased when he saw their reactions.

"That's amazing! He's gonna love it, Ren, I just know it!"

[He ought to; knowing him, he's going to see it and realize just how much you put into it.]

It was an effort for Ren to keep the smug sense of satisfaction off of his face. Having the reassurance and praise of the two of them only drove it home for him that he'd made the best possible call for a gift.

The only thing left to do was present it to the recipient.

"Thank you both again for the help," he added, turning to nod at the food they were still tending. "This shouldn't take too long, and then we can serve that up."

[Not to worry,] Oisín responded. [We have this covered until you get back.]

"I know you do," Ren said, and this time he didn't keep the smile off his face as he folded the gift back up and began to head down the hall. "Why do you think I asked you two in the first place~?"

Okay yeah, he was definitely letting some of that smugness slip out.

Without another word, he stalked down the halls with his head held high and his gift secure in his arms. Truthfully there was some part of him, deep down, that was anxious over the possibility of his hard work being rejected. Saying he'd spent months on it was no exaggeration; in fact, it was closer to an entire year, given when he'd first been struck with the idea for the gift coupled with the fact he had to learn entirely knew skillsets in order to make it. Still, he'd put everything into it and he knew Idia well enough to be sure he would recognize the effort.

The conversation between dormmates was dying down, and much of it cut off abruptly as he passed. Ren struggled to hold back a sigh of exasperation. Over a year of sharing space with these guys and still they flinched away like they were expecting him to suddenly lunge at them. It wasn't like it was his fault he looked the way he did. Still, maybe for once this wasn't a bad thing, since it meant they'd likely shut up and back off of Idia.

He found himself outside the door in question shortly, and braced himself for…well, sadly, the usual. Given Idia's grumbling for the past month, Ren anticipated he probably wasn't hoping to treat the day too differently from normal. Actually no, scratch that. Good chance he'd act more antisocial than usual because of what day it was. This time Ren did sigh, but raised his hand and knocked on the door all the same.

There was a loud "eep!" from inside, followed by the barest hint of muttering Ren couldn't make out the words to. Yeah…yeah. He'd called it.

"It's just me," he said loudly, letting some light irritation enter his voice. "Can I give you your gift, or am I going to have to ambush you at some other time?"

A long pause followed, and Ren swore he could feel a sense of embarrassed guilt emanating from the other side of the door. Eventually, he heard a soft shuffling sound, and then the door slid open with a whooshing hiss. Amber eyes framed by gently undulating flame-like hair looked up at him apologetically from where Idia cringed and hunched by the door.

"H-hi, Ren…" he whispered. "You didn't- I mean, y-you—"

He gave the elder Shroud brother his most unamused, withering look, and Idia's mouth snapped shut with another squeak of alarm.

"Do us both a favor, and don't be ridiculous," he said, ducking his head a few inches and entering the room. The door whooshed shut behind him and Idia retreated a couple of steps, shuffling his weight anxiously from one foot to the other. "You know I'm not going to try to force expectations on you like someone from other dorms."

He avoided saying Riddle's name specifically, but he was sure they both instantly thought of him, given the brief flash of annoyance that crossed his Housewarden's face. Still, it vanished quickly and Idia simply nodded. He knew full well that Ren was more than willing to work within whatever accommodations he needed or requested, and as such, there wasn't going to be an imposition on his time or comfort, especially not on a day like his birthday.

"So, uh…"

Ren didn't miss the look he gave the bundle in his arms, and already he saw Idia's eyes widen. Willing himself to keep his face neutral, he extended the object towards him and simply said, "Happy birthday."

Idia didn't even show an ounce of hesitation as he took the tapestry and unfurled it, lifting it high so he could see the full design. It was sideways, so he had to adjust for a moment, and that allowed Ren to really take in the growing expression of awe and slack-jawed excitement on that thin, pale face.

"Th-this- this is—!"

"The Sled Over Heels season two frame from the episode where Ai won the unofficial race against her rival Tsubaki from the Shaftlands? Yes."

It wasn't just the frame from the episode that everyone loved and referenced as the "victory" frame; that one simply depicted Ai, battered and bruised but triumphant, punching the air and grinning the grin of someone who never had the intention of losing a confrontation to a rival with warped scruples. Everyone knew that frame, and pretty much everyone referenced it. But that wasn't Idia's favorite frame from that particular episode. No, he loved the specific scene of victory, the gorgeously painted moment where Ai swooped in for a last-second win, face full of determination and wildness as her sled sent up a spray of snow while balanced heavily on only one runner. He'd gushed at length about that scene and the sheer beauty of that painted cel, that moment, the emotion it evoked.

And at the time he'd talked to Ren about it, the other young man had known then that nothing else would do. It was highly unlikely the actual animation cel was floating around out there for purchase (and even if it had been, it was no contest that Idia probably could have more easily bought it for himself than Ren could have bought it for him,) but that was fine. Ren would dedicate himself to recreating it to the best of his ability, and he had.

"This is mixed media."

"Excuse me?"

Idia moved his arms to give the tapestry the gentlest snap for emphasis. "This!" he said. "There are a few different techniques that went into making this. This wasn't just something you took a screenshot of and shipped off to a company that makes print-on-demand merch." He paused, then lowered the tapestry slightly and gave Ren a searching look, a rare moment of direct eye contact. "You sew? Screen-print? Embroider? What all went into this? I didn't know you could do any of that."

Ren tilted his head, folding his arms and arching a brow as he did so. "Interesting assessment of what you see," he remarked. "Right about some things, slightly off the mark on others. And I didn't say anything because everything I did here other than the most basic of sewing skills, I had to learn to do to make it."

Idia frowned, like he was about to ask exactly what he'd gotten wrong in his guess, but instead turned his attention back to the tapestry and continued to look at it. He stayed quiet for a bit, the awe still present in his expression and bearing, even as he studied what he saw like he was trying to mentally pull it apart to examine all the pieces. This time, rather than the smug pride, a warmth settled into Ren, a sort of relieved, quiet joy that his gift was being received even better than he could have hoped for.

"You just…learned different techniques to make a fanmerch tapestry?"

"If it was worth acquiring the skills for, why not? I can always use them again later."

"How long did you work on this?"

"Started maybe a week after you had that long talk where you told me about that particular frame of animation."

Startled, Idia half-jumped and looked up again, eyes going wide.

"Wait, that means you would have had to have been working on this for close to a year!" he blurted out.

"Just about," Ren confirmed, lifting his shoulders in the barest casual shrug.

This got a ducked head as Idia brought the tapestry up to his chest and mumbled a thank-you that, quite frankly, Ren allowed some selective hearing to filter out the self-depracating, you-shouldn't-have-wasted-this-on-me, I'm-undeserving tone and utterances.

"You're welcome," he answered, turning to head back to the door. "By the way, we made ginger garlic noodle soup, if you want any before you get too deep into a raid or quest."

He saw Idia's head jerk back up. "Wait, was that what I was smelling when you stepped in? You made that soup too?"

Ah, yes, there it was. No matter how much he wanted to be left alone, not even Idia could resist the siren call of one of his favorite dishes from Ren's hometown.

"Happy birthday, by the way," Ren answered, grinning in an unspoken challenge as he left the room to head back to the kitchenette, not needing to wait around to hear Idia rushing to put on slippers to follow.

Taglist: @elenauaurs @inmateofthemind @ramshacklerumble @tixdixl @winterweary

@distant-velleity @rainesol @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @twst-migraine

@natsukishinomiyaswife @the-trinket-witch (DM me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist for my TWST OCs stuff)

Dividers used

[dried-up-f1sh]

This is so late but I drew my OC, @/roses-and-anxiety's OC (I think they deleted their Tumblr blog but they're on Instagram), Dr Two-Brains, and Baxter for pride month. Also, I hope I didn't make Baxter shorter than he already is💀

Oh and Dr Two-Brains has the mind-exchange ray

Below the cut is just the images zoomed in so you can see the details on their faces

[juniperss]

“First Steps First” Jessamine ‘Lark’ Waterson (OC) x Neil ‘Chick’ Harding

A/N: so I’ve really been wanting to write something for Jessamine and Chick for a while but was super anxious and self conscious about it for a couple of reasons. The first being that I don’t write much fanfiction anymore and the second is because I’m not wholly convinced I nail the atmosphere of period shows/movies. But this idea just wouldn’t leave my head so I’m biting the bullet and swallowing my doubts!

This fic takes place in episode 4 during Dye’s celebration party (I can’t get over Harding saying “single fillies”, okay?) and inspired by the song “First Steps First” from the musical Bandstand. The song they dance to is “It’s Been a Long Time” and I don’t care that this version came out in 1945, it’s my favorite LOL

also hey autocorrect pls stop changing Chick to Chuck, thanks

Word count: 1,730 words (😧)

Warnings: none, other than the fact I don’t know how the military works so please ignore inaccuracies🤡😂 this is about the FICTIONAL version of Col. Harding

I saw that you said it was okay to tag you in OC stuff @rosies-riveters, so I hope this is alright and that you enjoy!

“Pardon my brashness, dear

Seeing you standing here

Dancing's more customary

For a soirée."

As much as Jessamine Waterson took pride in her work as a nurse on the Thorpe Abbots base there was no denying the fact that it was grueling, emotionally draining and often went without the accolades that came with other roles in the war. And while most days she was just fine with that, today had been particularly tiresome and Jessamine was glad for the change of pace the evening’s festivities allowed. The anxious energy that had gripped every person on the airbase had been exchanged for easy laughter, jokes, and celebration. After all, it wasn’t every day a pilot and crew successfully flew 25 missions. 

As she sat with Beth and Ginny, an American nurse and mechanic respectively, who had become two of her fastest friends, listening idly to them chat about the dances they’d returned from moments ago, it took much of Jessamine’s will to avoid allowing her gaze to linger for too long on the man who had just entered the room. She had spent months chiding herself for the way her heart started racing at the mere thought of Colonel Harding being so near and despite the effort she put into acting completely normal on the instances their paths crossed, she feared her feelings were all too transparent. 

 It was inconvenient to have a crush during war and even more inconvenient that it was on a man who was not only a good handful of years older than she was, but compounded by the fact that he was an American soldier. An American soldier who was dashingly handsome and confident, who had just looked in her direction and caught her staring. Jessamine busied herself with the drink in front of her trying to ignore the heat burning in her ears.

 “Oh well that was just adorable.” 

Beth’s voice with it’s charming southern accent was usually a source of soothing reassurance and good advice, was now riddled with mischief and good natured humor now that the two women’s attention was focused on their friend. “You know there’s no shame in a little flirting, a little conversation. Why don’t you go ask him to dance?”

Ginny nodded in agreement, leaning across the table, “It’s not like you’ve never spoken to him before,” before turning conspiratorially to Beth, “remember how she gave him pain medication for his headache that one time.” 

Jessamine’s hands came up to cover her face, the full weight of her body resting on her elbows as she suppressed a groan and a laugh. Of course the two of them remembered the  first time she had met the Colonel; a simple exchange of names and him asking for something for a headache. Jessamine, partly sleep deprived and partly fighting off the butterflies in her stomach fumbling with the bottle before spilling a handful of pills across the floor of the nurses station.

It certainly wasn’t necessarily the most romantic or charming first meeting on her part, but Col. Harding had only smiled before kneeling and helping her gather the runaways. There had been a quip about how she could’ve just said no that resulted in flustered laughter from her and another grin from him. And her friends hadn’t let her live it down since she confided about it to them the following day over breakfast. 

“I’m surprised he said anything to me after that.” Jessamine admitted and revealed her face to her friends. Though there had been more interactions with the Colonel after that, they remained confined to mostly professional settings save for a few pleasantries while off duty. “And to answer your question, Beth, I’m certainly not going to bother him and ask for a dance!” 

Ginny rolled her brown eyes and tossed her head back in a sign of exasperation, looking up to the ceiling pantomiming someone experiencing a great tragedy which in turn caused another round of laughter at the table. “Well, if he asked you to dance, would you say yes?” Beth finally asked.  This time all the hints of teasing had left her friend’s tone and there was nothing but curiosity and sincerity. 

Jessamine nodded slowly, allowing the fantasy to tease at the corner of her mind just for a moment but unable to answer because just as she parted her lips to reply another voice cut in. 

“Excuse me, ladies.” Colonel Harding’s voice sent a rush of heat through Jessamine’s body and she felt her posture straighten. She pried her eyes off of Beth to glance up, up, up at the tall soldier now standing beside their table and found that, despite him addressing them all, he was looking determinedly at her alone. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could steal Miss Waterson for a dance.”

“You’re not interrupting at all, sir.” Ginny chimed in, eyes flitting from the Colonel to Jessamine, “In fact, we were just talking about how much Jessamine was wanting to dance.”

Oh, that Ginny was going to get stern talking to later, Jessamine promised herself, but at that moment she was already standing. Hardings’ hand reached out and enveloped hers as he guided her to the dance floor. 

"Isn't the band sublime?

And as it happens I'm

Just in the mood to do

A two-step, Do step

Out on the floor with me.”

The two of them found a place surrounded by three or four other couples just as the band changed from the upbeat, two step to a slower tune that made Jessamine’s heart pitter faster. If Harding felt any nervousness at the now much more intimate situation the change of song put the two of them in, he didn’t show it. Instead he wrapped an arm around her waist with the ease and confidence of a man who knew what he was doing. Her breath hitching just slightly before she felt him placing the flat of his hand lightly, respectfully against her back. 

Every nerve was firing at once, each hair on her arms standing on end, she was sure of it as her mind raced. She was trying to remember just how one slow danced fighting through the nervousness, when she felt the firmness of her foot under her own. 

“I’m so sorry, colonel.” The apology came out high pitched and squeaky and with the attempt to pull away from the man in front of her. But Harding kept his gentle grip and shook his head.

 “It’s not the first time someone’s stomped on my foot. At least this time it wasn’t on purpose. And Neil is fine, or Chick if you think Neil is too familiar.” 

There he goes again, Jessamine thought, being so effortlessly charming and saving me from my own awkwardness. Sometime in the desperate squeak of an apology she had been repositioned to properly be dancing. One soft hand held in his much larger one, the other placed on his shoulder, and her face precariously close to his as she found herself peering up at him. The rhythm was easy to find with Neil leading and the familiar trumpet crooning at the stage and Jessamine had to fight to keep her eyes from closing. 

“Might you be charmingly coerced

No need to be so shy

Take reassurance, I

Know how to guide you through

The worst steps, first steps first

 “It’s not too late to admit you picked the wrong dancing partner.” Jessamine finally found her voice and the confidence to add just a bit of a teasing tone to it, a smile itching at the corner of her lips. Her cheek had come to rest just slightly against his shoulder as they swayed to the music and as a result her voice was slightly muffled by the material of his dress shirt.

 “You’re selling yourself short. It’s been at least a minute since we’ve had another incident. You’re a natural.” Each time he spoke she could feel the rumbling of his chest against hers and her head felt dizzy with the warmth and solidity of him. 

“And I’m certainly not going to say that after I finally got up the guts to come ask you for a dance in the first place.” Neil’s confession took Jessamine by surprise and she pulled back to look him in the eyes searching for any signs of jest but only finding an intensity that sent her stomach exploding into a storm of butterflies. 

“You...you had to work up the courage to ask me?” The image of Colonel Neil Harding having to work up the nerve to ask anything of Jessamine was too comical to be taken seriously but there was no denying the truth behind his statement. “You’re a beautiful woman, Jessamine. And smart and successful. Hell, you’d have every reason to reject a dance from an old colonel like me.” 

This was almost too much for Jessamine to take and she struggled to wrap her mind around his confession. All she could do was blink dazedly up at him as her cheeks flushed bright red. A smile broke out across Neil’s face and he laughed, arm tightening around her waist for a moment. “I hope that wasn’t too out of line and that I haven’t just read this entire interaction incorrectly. But your friends made it pretty clear to me earlier that you felt the same about me.” 

Oh…oh…oh it was all coming together now.

Jessamine couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from her chest and she leaned forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder. His own rumbling laugh was mixing with hers and soon Jessamine had relaxed with the words of his confession replaying in her mind. The song faded and another slow ballad picked began, nothing but their breathing and the shuffling of shoes on the floor mixing with the music to fill the space between them.  “So,” Neil murmured, dragging Jessamine’s attention to his face once again, “you do feel the same?” 

This time, Jessamine didn’t shy away from the intense and earnest way he was looking at her. Instead she lifted herself up on the tip of her toes just enough to bring her lips to his cheek. 

 She would have words with Ginny and Beth about this. But later…after another dance. 

Yes, after another dance with Neil.

[credince--writes]

mor·tal·i·ty Chapter 1

Masterlist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!OC x John "Soap" MacTavish

Description:

TF141 has been disbanded, and they have returned to civilian life, forming a PMC company focused on logistical consulting of the operations they once preformed. John MacTavish never truly recovered from the accident, and never let Simon back in to pick up the pieces that were left. Camile Ford had never been one to bend the whims of morals, never stepping to close to dance with the fire of her own mortality. But divinity calls her name, and she's never been one to ignore the higher powers calling her name.

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Johnny never really recovered from that last mission. Enough was evident by the time they’d been dispersed back to their homes, respectively. Two weeks of no contact had been enough to warrant Simon breaking into his flat with a credit card and the meat of his shoulder- opening the door to a studio flat that smelled like old beer and piss.

He dosen’t remember what happened, exactly. But he does know it was enough for Simon to force him into the back of his car, stuff a duffel bag full of his dirty laundry scattered around the floor. One framed photo that’d long since been knocked off the wall in a fit of rage, shattered on the floor. He can only imagine the infuriating look of pity and disgust displayed on Simon’s face as he entered the room, finding him rotting on a mattress Johnny hadn’t dared to even put a fitted sheet on. He was a bad dog. He didn’t deserve the comfort of civilian life. He needed to be muzzled, and locked in a kennel.

He needed to be left to rot, to pick the flesh off of his bones and weep.

Beg for forgiveness.

They had all left the service, after that last mission. It hadn’t been all at the same time- but it had been staggered closely enough that he wasn’t able to hide from the faces of his previous teammates nearly long enough. Truly hadn’t even scratched the surface of his grief before he was being wrestled out of bed, kicking, screaming, biting and snarling trying to solicit any reaction from his lieutenant. He wanted to be met with retaliation, anger, spite. He wanted to be punished. He wanted to have the pain he craved inflicted upon him.

He was met with love.

He despised it.

Every time he fought back, every time he bared his teeth trying to lash out with any kind of hurt he could think  to warrant a reaction- he was met with nothing but softened brown eyes and a tone of forgiveness. I know how hard this is for you Johnny, and I won’t let you go through this alone. I love you.

Seven months into their broken, codependent and avoidant, hate and love, thing. Simon’s phone rang while Johnny sat at the island of their shared apartment, staring intently at the cup of steaming liquid in front of him. The side glance Simon had given him as he stepped out of the room panged someone deep at his pride- the adults were talking, obviously Simon couldn’t risk him being within earshot. Laswell calling in a favor, exchanging into something more of an opportunity to fill a needed void- one they had probably contributed too.

He’d found out, not much later that Laswell had set Price up in a fancy little office. Fit the big ol’ mustache into a suit, shined shoes and combed hair to create some type of consulting security company out of the states. What that really meant was- a front for a deep rooted PMC system that trained, or consulted to whatever Laswells file dictated. Much more separated from the boots in the sand, blood dripping down skin approach Simon had been used to in the past- however he’d found solace in the pen against paper. Fingers tapping against keys, assistants, meetings, some type of purpose in life that hadn’t directly come from the value of him, personally, at least, dragging a knife through the cartilage and arteries of his victims throat.

It was at this point Johnny had simply swayed between not caring about anything- and violent bouts for independence from the smothering weight of it’s ok, and i’ll love you regardless of the words you don’t mean.

He very much means them, and he puts every ounce of willpower into throwing as much bile against the man. Somewhere between realizing that he truly had let himself go- and Simon’s surprising ability to overpower him just by grabbing him by the back of the neck and pinning him to any surface to get him to stop from his own self destructive tendencies, did he realize how he could hurt the man- and make it stick.

And he left.

A note, scratched out onto paper.

You can’t love what never loved you back.

[zoguy1]

So. Every June, I try to challenge myself by posting something for Pride Month. For the past couple years, it's been ships with cute little pride flags. This year, the priority focus will be on the Trolls Summer Gift exchange. But at the very least I'd like to show ya'll the ones I've made in the past.

2022 bundle:

Bi Hiccup x Gay Jack. Fun fact: This was the first gay couple I've ever laid my eyes on as a young child. I saw this ship and thought "I want that kind of relationship."

Bi Tony x Gay Rudolph Watching the 2017 movie, these two reminded me of Luca and Alberto so much.

Aro Merida You get it? Cuz she's an archer. It's funny. Laugh.

Bi Nan Fang x Ace Fu Yao The headcannon was based off of a fanfic I read a while ago.

Demi Ace Xie Lian x Gay Hua Cheng. I sevearly enjoyed the series. I occasionally eat fics of these two as comfort foods.

Pan Xu Xuan x Trans Xiao Bai White snake was basically 2 hours of "What you are doesn't matter, it's who you are that matters", THEE Pansexual anthem, and then the second movie Turned Blanca into a guy? This is cannon.

Ace Liu Qingge x Bi Shen Yuan Imma be honest. I didn't like SVSSS very much. Yandere's are not my cup of tea. And I was really hoping Shizun would have gotten with Liu-shidi instead.

Gay Luca x Gay Alberto I'm so glad Luberto was actually confirmed to be somewhat cannon. Though Nowadays I see Luca as bi, cuz if we're counting the concept art as apart of the lore, then Luca had a crush on both Alberto and Giulia.

Gay Jade x Gay Katie. Kate is the first character I actually felt scene as a queer person.

Genderfluid Shi Qingxuan I freaking love them so much. Easily my favorite character.

Aro Nezha This kid knows chaos and only chaos.

Pan Adam x Gray Ace Freddy I saw this crossover on DA and thought they made so much sense together. Adam the literal personification of nature, and Freddy the unification of humanity and animals.

Non-Binary Merz x Lesbian Alice These two are OCs of mine.

Aro Lesbian Isabela and Aro Lesbian Elsa. I ship this in a sort of queer platonic way. Like a "we don't really want to date people, but everyone thinks we're dating, and we just don't care enough to correct them." kind of way.

Genderfluid Camilo I want the ability to shapeshift so badly.

Pan Ao Bing x Bi Xiao Jiu Ya'll get brownie points if you know which Ao Bing this is and double points if you know who Xiao Jiu is. Lol. It was a random crossover ship I made because the company liked to crossover their medias for advertisements, and we see the adults interacting and having fun, and Nezha joins them. But we don't see the two teenagers interact at all.

Bi Verta x Bi Li Yunxiang Another crossover ship I made up cuz I didn't see a lot of Nezha Reborn and White Snake crossovers. Which surprised me, especially after Green Snake.

Gay Jiang Ziya x Gay Shen Gongbao These two lived in the same house together for 10 years and adopted a daughter together. I am convinced these two are a married couple.

Bi Mirabel There was a little bisexual rainbow on her dress. That's proof enough for me. Lol.

Lesbian Amaya x Lesbian Janai I loved seeing their dynamic in the show.

Non-Binary Kazi I love them. I'm glad they got more attention in the show.

Lesbian Susie x Trans Noelle "Why does Noelle have antlers. Is she trans? The Null the Null the Null the Null..."

Non-Binary Kris I love them. They literally never said a word, and I love them.

AroAce Krel Based on a comic I made.

Aro Blaze Another OC.

Aro Douxie Idk why, but I get that vibe from him.

2023 Pack:

Furry Omni Toby x Furry Demigirl Darci The moment Darci said she didn't want people to like her just because she was a girl, I felt that in my soul.

Bi Steve x Pan Aja I am not convinced Steve is straight.

Pan Simon x Gay Ao Bing This ship was inspired by a youtube video that had a list of crossover ships, this being on of them. And I freaking love it.

AroAce Sun Wukong and AroAce Tang Sanzang In Monkey King Reborn, out of everyone in the friend group, you can just tell that these two cared about each other the most. And I think that's just sweet.

Fuck. I can only have 30 images per post. I'll reblog with the rest of the 2023 pack.

[flygefisk]

hiii would anyone trade my 50kt for their 50g so i can hatch a pride month egg?

alternatively does anyone want a lil doodle drawing of their dragon/oc in exchange for an egg?

[assortedseaglass]

An Ever Fixed Mark - A Come Back To Me Oneshot

Billy Washington x Ida (OFC)

[Come Back To Me Masterlist]

Warnings: Fluff, smutty thoughts

Word Count: 1.7K

Note: This is a long overdue thank you to @exitpursuedbyavulcan for their support of Come Back To Me. Just a sweet little drabble about my favourite idiots. It follows on from the events of Come Back To Me and contains OCs, so if you aren’t familiar, maybe give that a read first.

If it weren’t for the steady voice of the priest, Billy would have forgotten where he was. Across the altar, illuminated by stream of July light, stood Ida. From the moment Faisal had knocked on his door that morning with a panicked “Ready?”, all Billy wanted was to see her. In a rush of wedding-induced delirium, the morning faded into afternoon and guests were gathering in the little church. She’d glided up the aisle, the little flowergirl in front of her throwing petals on the ground like grenades. The congregation ahed and laughed, but Billy could see only her. From the bouquet of flowers she held, bright sweet peas, roses and lily-of-the-valley to the pink hue of her joy-freckled cheeks, Ida held him enraptured.

The entire service, he had grinned at her like a schoolboy, palms sweating as the exchange of the rings approached. By some miracle (his life had been so full of miracles these last eighteen months) he hadn’t dropped them, placing them tenderly on the Bible and resuming his sentinel behind Faisal, gazing at Ida. Her eyes were glazed with tears now, the breadth of her smile near forcing them to fall. The usually unruly hair had been wrestled into gentle curls that framed her face, a few whisps haloed by the red and blue of the stained-glass window. He knew it was sacrilegious to say it, but she truly was the most beautiful woman there. Billy watched with glee as she took a shuddering breath of anticipation.

“By the power vested in me,” the priest between them held up his hands. “I know pronounce you man and wife. Go in peace. Faisal, you may kiss-” Before the dear man could finish his sentence, Sofia leapt at Faisal, her arms encircling his neck as the crowd cheered with applause. Behind her, Ida’s tears brimmed over as she laughed, the flowergirl holding her hand jumping up and down with glee. Sofia led Faisal down the aisle, smiling proudly and showing off her wedding ring to the crowd. Faisal shook hasty hands with family and friends as he passed, not once losing step with his bride and laughing at her abounding happiness. Ida hurried the flowergirl after them, giggling she tottered behind the bride and groom, waving at the crowd and utterly oblivious to their focus on the newlyweds. Billy held out his arm for Ida and, with a bashful smile, she took it.

“You look amazing,” he whispered in her ear as they made their way to the front of the church. Ida’s eyes drifted downwards, attempting to hide the growing blush with her hair.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Wash.” She nudged his shoulder; it was his turn to blush. “Though I can’t wait to get these pins out of my hair,”

“And I can’t wait to get you out of that dress,” Billy said lowly in the shell of her ear.

If the church has been full to the rafters, then the hotel function suit was bound to burst. Sugar-high children, reminiscing elders and everyone in between spilled from the suit into the summer evening sun. Sofia and Faisal, a glass of champagne in each hand, moved around their loved ones as if gliding on air. Faisal’s parents were regal in their Shalwar kameeze and Anarkali against the sea of linen suits and summer dresses, and Sofia’s parents, with their white-blonde hair and golden skin as beautiful as their daughter’s, spoke to them with glowing pride. Gladness and well wishes filled the air.

“What a beautiful couple,”

“What a gorgeous day,”

Amongst it all, Billy and Ida were the model wedding party, welcoming friends, charming the families and ensuring the day went without a hitch. At least, without Sofia and Faisal knowing. Occasionally, they caught each other’s eye from across the room and beamed. Ida basking in the radiant joy of her best friend’s happiness, Billy at being finally and firmly accepted into this found family. The flowergirl dotted between them, begging Ida to play or Billy to dance. When, after the dinner, she had been beckoned to bed by her parents, she hugged Ida around the knees and gave Billy a wet kiss on the cheek. Ida’s stomach kneaded as she watched him with the little girl. She had just reached out her hand to him, caressing the sun-kissed skin there, when the clinking of spoon against glass rang out. The newlyweds and their parents were seated at the top table, the guests shuffling to their chairs. Ida tucked herself into the crook of Billy’s shoulder, leaning against his chest and inhaled his cologne. Nothing needed to be said; their minds already worked in tandem. Instead, he lazily brought his hand to graze at her waist and watched as Sofia’s father stood to address the crowd.

Ida smiled as he told stories of Sofia as a young girl, her nature vivacious from the moment she took her first breaths. The crowd laughed when tales turned to her time at university, and the arrival of the maid-of-honour in his daughter's life. Ida should have brought seriousness and study, instead their pair of girls partied and drank and somehow passed their exams. Billy pinched her side and Sofia winked at her best friend. The career, the travels, and eventually, Faisal.

“I was convinced the moment that my little girl first smiled up at me, that no-one could be a match for her. No one as brilliant, and bright, and adventurous and fun-loving. I was right.” The crowd chortled. “But then Faisal came along. Faisal with his kind eyes and his kind heart, and I watched as he and my Sofia fell in love. One day, I asked them to help me bring the weekly shop in from the car. An hour it took them. Pausing between each bag to talk. About the weather, the world, their hopes and dreams, what was on telly last night, and I knew as I watched them that he was the man for her.” He placed his hand on Faisal’s shoulder, and the groom patted it with affection. “Love isn’t a rollercoaster, or easy. Sometimes it isn’t even patient or kind. It’s soul-baring, visceral and long. I shan’t give advice to these two, so perfectly suited for a life together. But if I have anything to say it’s this; at the end of it all our hearing goes and we forget the glasses we’ve lost are on our heads. Our skin sags and our minds slow. Marry someone that sees the worst of you, all of you, and thinks the sun shines out your arse regardless.” The crowd laughed and clapped. Ida turned her head to Billy and found he was already watching her. With a wink, he kissed her forehead and raised his glass to toast his friends.

Before either of them new it, the night was drawing in. Sofia and Faisal were dancing at the centre of the room, Robbie Williams’ Angels playing on the decks.

“Wouldn’t be a wedding without it,” Billy whispered to Ida before pulling her close. Her eyes were hazy with champagne, and his own head felt as if it were full of cotton wool. She wrapped her arms around is neck and he was reminded delightfully of school discos, girls and boys stood stiffly apart as they held each other awkwardly in some strange imitation of what they had seen their parents doing. A prepubescent game of grown up. Ida kissed his neck, and Billy would have felt embarrassed about the sweat that fell there if it weren’t for the way he’d heard her inhale his scent.

“I’m done now,” she had said with her head lolling against his shoulder. “I want to get into bed.” Billy rubbed her back soothingly and watched as Faisal dipped Sofia into a kiss.

“Last song. Soon,”

Ida looked up at him. Red bloomed across his cheeks from the heat of the air, the dancing and the alcohol. Since the incident he kept his hair short, but it still managed to stick to his forehead. A long while ago the uncomfortable ties the groomsmen wore had been discarded and his floral buttonhole was lobsided. He looked how she had always known him; frayed at the edges, the young and turbulent life he had already lived playing out across the canvas of him. A hand tapped her shoulder and with difficulty she tore her eyes away from her Billy.

“We’re off,” Sofia pulled Ida into a hug. “Thank you for everything today.”

“Thanks mate,” Faisal clapped Billy on the back and lifted him off the ground in a tight embrace. They laughed together.

“Here,” Sofia pressed something into Ida’s hands and, looking down, she saw it was her bouquet. “I thought about throwing it, but I wanted you to have it.”

Ida raised her eyebrows. “What are you saying, Mrs?” Sofia waggled hers in response, then turned to pull her husband away through the dancers and towards the car waiting to whisk them to their honeymoon. Billy and Ida watched from a distance, his arms still clinging to her hips, as their friends drove away and into married life. No sooner had the car pulled out of the hotel’s dark drive was Ida wrenching Billy towards the door.

“Haven’t we got to help clear up?” He asked, looking at the family and hotel staff packing away chairs.

“We’ve done enough today. I need to get you upstairs, Wash.”

“What for?”

All breath left him. Ida looked over her shoulder, past their entwined hands and into his eyes with a determined and wolfish gaze. “Just you wait.”

Note: The title is from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116, which I just adore!

Tagging the old Come Back To Me crew: @jessssica1234 @heimtathurs @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @aemonds-wifey @slytherincursebreaker @valerie977 @greenowlfactif @yentroucnagol @schniiipsel @multiple-fandoms-girl @just-emmaaaa @tosiaf @kage-no-sonzai

[foreverrandomwritings]

Controversially Young Girlfriend- Part 1

@sylviebell asks: A pride month celebration is such a good idea! I’ve got a headcanon request for you. I’ve seen several things about Rooster and Hangman with a controversially young girlfriend, but what are your thoughts on Phoenix with one?

(For some reason tumblr glitched and posted this yesterday so I deleted it and copied the ask from my google docs)

Pairing: Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x afab! unnamed OC type (CYG short for controversially young girlfriend because I was not typing that a bunch)

Warnings: Age gap and tooth rooting fluff.

Word count: 533

Masterlist M’s PMC Masterlist Series Masterlist

~ I absolutely love this idea.

~I think they'd have met in like sephora or ulta or something.

~Phoenix looked completely lost and this pretty young woman came wandering over to her.

~Asked her if she needed help with anything.

~Phoenix told her what she was having trouble with and the young woman helped her out quickly.

~Before walking away she turned to Phoenix handing over her phone.

~ “I think you're super attractive and would love to see you again sometime.”

~Phoenix was taken aback, she was used to men hitting on her but not women.

~Especially as cute and young as the one standing before her.

~She put her number in her phone and then they parted ways.

~They talked constantly after that.

~Literally talked about everything under the sun.

~When CYG told Phoenix how young she was, Phoenix was a tiny bit hesitant to pursue anything.

~CYG being like 19-21.

~Confided in Rooster who encouraged her to go for it.

~They exchanged snapchats and every time Phoenix would post a picture of her or of her and the guys, the CYG would be sliding up hyping her up.

~ Their first date consisted of coffee and thrift shopping.

~ They had a lot of fun and it was instant chemistry.

~There was barely a day after that they weren't together.

~It was a whirlwind of romance and they moved in together within months.

~CYG was constantly pulling Phoenix into tiktok trends.

~CYG having to explain new slang and trends to Phoenix.

~They got a cat together from a shelter and it is their little baby.

~CYG is a nanny and on her rare days off she goes and has lunch with Phoenix on base.

~One time she sees one of her friends dads there (Admiral Simpson) and it was a little awkward. (Will write this as a little blurb if anyone wants me to.)

~Also a college student majoring in Psychology.

~The family that CYG nannies for loves Phoenix and has approved of her coming over and spending time with CYG and the kids anytime she wants.

~Phoenix is so good with the kids and they love playing with her when she's over.

~CYG integrated into the Squad well.

~Got made fun of by Harvard and Yale for still being in college.

~Hangman was actually the first person she got along with.

~They became super close much to Phoenix's dismay.

~But he had defended their relationship and the fact that CYG was still in college.

~CYG's friends absolutely adore Phoenix and love the two of them together.

~Phoenix always feels out of touch with them though and normally just sits quietly confused.

~They occasionally got mistaken for siblings instead of girlfriends because of the age gap.

~Both of their families had questions and concerns over the relationship.

~Phoenix would occasionally get insecure that CYG wouldn't want to stay with her.

~CYG would reassure her constantly however and would never get upset with her insecurities.

~Would go to pride together and have the time of their lives.

~The first deployment was rough for the both of them. will be posting a oneshot of this soon)

~Overall they are both super head over heels for each other.

A/N: Thank you for this request Sylvia! I am completely fucking obsessed with this idea. No one better be surprised when I make a series around this. I also maybe already have the awkward Beau, CYG, Nat scene written up lol.

Tags(Open): @wkndwlff @eternallyvenus

@sillygooseses (you liked this yesterday when tumblr for some reason glitched out and posted it early)