#and the reality that if they *tried* to give these relationships actual depth and give the audience something to root for then maybe people

[littlespoonevan]

it's really interesting rewatching season 2, particularly in light of s7 and how obvious tim made it that he regretted killing off shannon, because they don't really do much with eddie and shannon's storyline when she's alive. other than the ep where she comes back, the christmas ep and the ep where she dies we don't see a lot. and while they absolutely have chemistry and there's potential there for an interesting story with shannon wanting a divorce, it's not all that different from the way they phone it in with other love interests eddie has had.

and it's just cemented even more to me that what really makes eddie and shannon interesting is what we get in eddie begins. bc their scenes in eddie begins are so fucking meaty. their arguments, the tension, the clear way in which they know each other despite there being a massive disconnect/breakdown in communication - all of that is what makes my brain whir because there are So Many layers and there's so much to unpack and even though it's eddie's ep, the insight we get into shannon and her perspective is fascinating.

and now i'm wondering if that's when tim realised it too??? if he saw just how good their scenes could be when given the depth their conflict needed and realised he might've been too trigger happy??? bc like, they Do have some interesting scenes in s2 that 100% hint at their issues and cement the how much history they have together but their eddie begins scenes are honestly unparalleled. and none of this is to say they could've or should've stayed together had shannon lived but they'd already set up a very interesting dynamic with the 2x17 divorce conversation that could've played out over at least a season if they wanted it to (while also leaving the door open to have shannon leave or have them reconcile down the line depending on how things go)

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER SEVEN ━━ Break In, Break Up, Break Out

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.9K

☆ ━ warnings: slight mention of conversion therapy, usage of “gayness” in a derogatory way, hella religious guilt

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: nothing, just enjoy!

PAIGE HASN’T seen Dani since what happened in the darkroom, on Friday. She doesn’t blame her, though. Dani’s been through hell—months of suppressing herself, living in fear of being who she is, and all under the roof of the man who had sent her to fucking conversion therapy of all places. Paige has felt the weight of that knowledge settle in her chest like a stone all weekend. But she knows better than to push Dani for anything more, not now. Dani needs space, time to figure out her next steps, and Paige is willing to give her all the time in the world—especially now that she knows why.

Still, it doesn’t stop her from worrying. Every time she thinks about Dani living under the same roof as her dad, the man who tried to change her, a sick feeling twists in her stomach. She hasn’t said anything about it yet, though—she doesn’t know if she plans to. She just doesn’t want to overwhelm Dani, not when they’re barely starting to reconnect.

It’s Monday morning now, and Paige is rushing to AP Lit—her first period that has been the victim of her tardiness recently. She steps into the classroom just as the bell rings, thankful that she’s just on time. Mrs. Donovan is already at the front of the room, writing something on the board about their next project. Paige’s eyes automatically drift to the familiar spot in front of her—Dani’s seat.

And there she is.

Dani sits at her desk, brown hair falling over her shoulders, her fingers drumming lightly on the surface as if she might be lost in thought. When Paige walks past her to take her own seat behind her like always, their eyes meet.

Dani’s lips curve into a small, tentative smile. It’s barely more than a flicker, but to Paige, it feels like a flash of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Her heart leaps in her chest, racing far faster than it should for something so simple, but after weeks—months, really—of being ignored by Dani, even the smallest gesture feels like a lifeline.

Paige smiles back, hoping Dani can feel just how much that small connection means to her.

She sits down, her pulse still thrumming in her ears, trying to focus as Mrs. Donovan begins explaining the project. Paige glances at the back of Dani’s head, her mind reeling, though she quickly snaps her attention to the teacher. They’ve been reading The Great Gatsby for the past few weeks, and now it’s time to wrap up the unit with their final project.

“Alright, class,” Mrs. Donovan begins as she turns to face them, “for this project, I’m going to be assigning you partners. Together, you’ll create a poster analyzing one of the central themes or symbols from Gatsby.”

Paige’s gaze wanders back to Dani’s profile as Mrs. Donovan speaks. Her mind drifts to the book they’ve been studying—for once, she didn’t hate it. She actually read the whole thing instead of reading the chapter summaries on SparkNotes. Maybe it’s because those stupid themes of longing, desire, and unattainable dreams all feels eerily close to home. Maybe not. She swallows, wondering if Dani has ever thought of it that way. She wonders if she sees their relationship—whatever this is now—as an unreachable dream, just like Gatsby’s vision of Daisy.

“As you know,” Mrs. Donovan continues, “The Great Gatsby is filled with themes of illusion and reality, the corruption of the American Dream, and the idea of trying to recapture a lost past. I want you and your partner to explore one of these ideas in depth, using specific scenes from the novel to support your argument. Your poster should clearly show how your chosen theme or symbol is reflected in the text, and, if you want to, you can even make connections to modern-day issues or personal reflections.”

Paige’s heart thuds in her chest. Mrs. Donovan’s words echo in her head—illusion and reality, the corruption of dreams, trying to recapture a lost past. Maybe she’s been thinking too hard—she’s been doing that a lot lately—but the parallels to her situation with Dani are almost painfully obvious. Everything between them feels like chasing something that’s just out of reach, something real but constantly slipping through their fingers.

Mrs. Donovan scans the room, looking down at her list of names. “Okay, partners are as follows… Noa and Lucy… Sam and Katie… Paige and Dani…”

Paige feels her breath catch in her throat. Of course. Of course, she and Dani are partners. It’s not a bad thing—it’s just… a little more nerve-racking than it would have been a few months back. She can feel her pulse quicken again as she glances at Dani, who turns her head just slightly, catching Paige’s eye with a soft gaze. There’s a hint of something unspoken there, a flicker of uncertainty mixed with… something else. Paige can’t quite place it.

“Once you know who your partner is, you can spend the rest of class working on your analysis,” Mrs. Donovan says, gesturing to the students.

Paige gathers her things and shifts to the empty desk next to Dani, her nerves buzzing under her skin. Dani glances at her with that same tentative smile, and Paige swears her cheeks are tinged with the faintest blush.

“So, uh…” Dani starts, her voice quieter than usual. “Which theme do you think we should focus on?”

Paige considers for a moment, her mind running through everything they’ve studied in the book. Lost dreams, unattainable desires, illusions. But there’s one that sticks out more than the rest. “What about… the idea of finding and taking back a lost past? You know, like how Gatsby’s obsessed with recreating what he had with Daisy?”

Dani’s eyes flicker with something—understanding, maybe?—and she nods. “Yeah, that could work. He spends the whole book trying to hold onto something that’s already gone, even though it’s never gonna be the same.”

Paige’s heart twists a little at the truth of those words. Is that that not what she’s been doing with Dani? Hoping to get back what they had before, even though so much has changed?

Dani continues, her voice a little more confident now that they’ve settled on a theme. “We could talk about the green light too, right? How it symbolizes Gatsby’s hope, but also how it’s just this unattainable thing that he’ll never really have. We could connect that with the idea of longing for something that’s already out of reach.”

Paige nods, her throat tightening. “Yeah, that’s good. The green light.” She pauses, her eyes drifting down to the notebook in front of her. “It’s like he’s always reaching for somethin’ that’s just… too far away.”

Their conversation flows more easily after that, though there’s an almost shyness between them that’s never been there before. Both of them are careful, cautious, as if the slightest misstep might break whatever fragile thing has started to grow between them again. But there are moments—brief, fleeting—where Paige feels the old connection, the spark that’s always been there. The accidental brushes of their hands as they pass each other the notebook, the tiny smiles exchanged when they find something they both agree on—it’s enough to make Paige’s heart race in a way that feels all too familiar.

As they work, Paige can’t help but steal glances at Dani, the way her brows furrow when she’s concentrating, the way her lips quirk into a soft smile when they find a particularly insightful analysis. It’s like seeing a version of Dani she hasn’t in so long—open, thoughtful, the girl Paige has always known (and loved).

When the bell rings, the sound startled both of them out of their quiet focus. Paige looks up, blinking in surprise as the reality of the time hits her. “We’re definitely not going to finish this in class,” she says, a little breathless.

Dani laughs softly, and it’s like a balm to Paige’s soul. “Yeah, I didn’t think we would.”

Paige hesitates for a moment, her mind racing with possibilities. She knows Dani’s still working through everything, not wanting to get too close again especially so soon, but maybe this is Paige’s chance to spend time with her again. “Do you want to… maybe come over to my house later? I have practice, but we could work on it after?”

Dani blinks, surprised. Paige watches the hesitation, the uncertainty flick across her face as her mouth opens and closes, searching for an answer. Paige can guess why—Dani’s scared. And Paige is about to think that Dani’s going to refuse, but then the brunette nods slowly, her lips curving into another small smile. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

Paige’s heart flutters, and she can’t help the wide grin that spreads across her face. “Great. I’ll text when you come over, okay?”

“Okay,” Dani replies, her voice soft, but there’s something in her eyes—a warmth, a glimmer—that makes Paige feel like things might finally be starting to fall into place again.

DANI’S HEART pounds, her stomach in knots as she paces back and forth in her bedroom. The sun is dipped low, casting the room in the kind of dim light that makes everything feel heavier than it is. Any minute now, Paige will text her to come over so they can finish their Lit project. She tries to tell herself it isn’t a big deal—just schoolwork, nothing more. It certainly isn’t a date. It isn’t even really two friends hanging out. It’s just schoolwork. Strictly to finish their assignment.

So why does she feel like her stomach is in knots? She’s been to Paige’s house a billion times over the years. Just because it’s been a few months doesn’t mean anything’s changed, right?

But it has changed. It’s all changed.

She runs a hand through her hair, her fingers shaking. Maybe she should cancel. Paige won’t hold it against her, right? She can just make up an excuse, say something came up. Lie. She can lie and stay in her room, burying herself in the Bible that sits on her bookshelf, pretending like she isn’t still thinking about Paige all the time, in that way. Pretending that her heart isn’t tearing itself apart.

Dani lets out a shaky breath and stops pacing, her hand drifting up to the cross necklace around her neck. The cool metal feels grounding in a way, like it’s tethering her to something larger than herself. Her father always says that God will give her strength, that if she prays enough, follows the rules, and sticks to the path, things will work out.

But the path feels so blurry now. What does strength even mean when every day feels like a battle inside her own head?

Her eyes drift to the crucifix on her wall, then once more to the Bible resting on the shelf. God doesn’t approve, she thinks, the words like a drumbeat in her mind. It isn’t just God either. She knows how her dad feels. She’s known from the moment he sent her to camp, from the moment he handed her over to people who told her she could be “fixed.”

But how can she be fixed when she isn’t even sure what’s broken?

Paige isn’t the problem. That much Dani knows. Paige has never been the problem, no matter how much the counselors or Dani’s father told her she was. It’s Dani that’s the problem. It’s her mind, her heart, her inability to let go of everything her father has drilled into her for years. She’s tried to be who he wants her to be. She’s tried to be the perfect daughter, the good Catholic girl who follows all the rules.

But nothing feels right anymore. Not when she’s spent an entire five months being torn apart from the inside out. Not when she can’t even look at herself in the mirror without feeling a deep sense of guilt she can’t shake.

She tugs on the cross hanging from her neck, feeling the familiar weight pressing against her chest. This is wrong, she tells herself again, but the words feel empty. It’s the words that feel wrong now, not everything else.

Because if it’s so wrong, why does it feel so right when Paige smiles at her? Why does her heart race whenever Paige looks at her like she’s the only person in the room? And why, despite everything, does she still want to go over there tonight? And maybe every other night?

Dani’s stomach churns as she glances at her phone, wondering if Paige is even going to text her at all. Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe it’s a bad idea to work together at all. They aren’t the same people they used to be, and things aren’t just going to magically fall back into place because of a stupid project.

She wants to cancel, she really does. It’s too confusing, too much to handle. But then what? She’ll sit here in her room, staring at the cross, thinking about Paige and how impossible it is to be near her but even more impossible to be without her. It’s a torturous cycle Dani can’t escape, no matter how much she prays or how hard she tries to push the thoughts away.

God doesn’t approve. The words echo again, louder this time. Dani’s fingers tighten around the necklace, her breath shallow as she stands in the middle of her room, paralyzed by indecision. She knows what her father would say. He would tell her to cancel, to stay away from Paige, to keep herself on the “right path.”

But what if she doesn’t want to stay on that path anymore?

What if she doesn’t even know where it leads?

Before she can spiral any further, a soft thud against her window pulls her from her thoughts. And then another. Dani blinks, startled, her heart jumping in her chest. She frowns, walking over to the window and pulling back the curtain. Her eyes widen in surprise when she looks down to see Paige standing in the yard, tossing tiny pebbles up at her window.

Paige grins up at her, looking a little sheepish but undeniably amused with herself. Her hair is damp and wavy, falling loose around her shoulders, and she’s wearing a Hopkins basketball long-sleeve with grey sweatpants—clearly fresh from practice and a shower. The sight of her makes Dani’s stomach flip. Dani digs a nail into her palm for the way her brain immediately dings with the thought of how good Paige looks.

“What are you doing?” Dani calls out, incredulous, though she can’t help the small smile tugging at her lips.

Paige shrugs, her grin widening. “Sorry about the rocks,” she says, a bit bashfully. “But, uh, you still have my number blocked. And my Snap. And my Instagram. And I didn’t want to knock on your door. Figured your dad probably wouldn’t love seeing me on the Ring camera.”

Dani’s stomach flips at the mention of her dad. She feels a wave of guilt, her mind instantly jumping to what he’d say if he knew Paige was outside her window. But at the same time, Paige’s grin is so disarming, so warm, that it makes everything else seem a little less suffocating.

Paige gestures to her house, right, next door, and flashes that same lopsided smile that makes Dani’s chest ache. “You can come over whenever now.”

Dani stands frozen at the window, her thoughts warring with each other, but before she can stop herself, she calls back, “Yeah, okay, I’ll be down in a sec.”

She closes the window, her heart racing as she grabs her things and heads downstairs, her fingers brushing against the cross necklace one last time before she opens the door to meet Paige outside.

They don’t say much as they start walking next door to Paige’s house. It isn’t a long walk—barely thirty seconds, given how their houses stand so close together. Yet, every step feels like it’s taking Dani deeper into a situation she isn’t ready to face.

Paige’s shoulder brushes against hers as they walk, sending a jolt of electricity down Dani’s spine. She stiffens, her heart skipping a beat. For a split second, she wants to lean into Paige’s warmth, to let that connection stay, to give into that sense of closeness she hasn’t let herself feel in months. But just as quickly, the urge to pull away surges inside her. Every alarm in her head screams at her to keep her distance, to remember what’s at stake, to remember how wrong it all is.

But Dani does neither. She doesn’t lean into Paige, nor does she pull away. She just keeps walking, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her as they make their way up the driveway to Paige’s front door.

When they step inside, the warm glow of the house envelopes them, and Dani immediately hears the sounds of a football game coming from the living room. Paige’s dad, Bob, lounges on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. The moment the door closes behind them, though, he turns his head, clearly expecting to see Paige alone.

When his gaze lands on Dani standing beside her, a flicker of surprise crosses his face. Dani’s stomach tightens as she sees the confusion in his eyes, realizing how strange it must be for him to see her here after months of silence. She hasn’t exactly made it easy on Paige, and by extension, on him either. But just as quickly as the confusion appears, it fades into a warm grin.

“Well, look who it is!” Bob exclaims, his voice full of the same kindness that’s always made Dani feel like she belongs here with the Bueckers. “Dani Callan! I thought you forgot where we lived. How you been?” His teasing tone holds no bitterness, only affection, and Dani feels a knot she hadn’t even realized was there loosen in her chest.

“Hi, Bob,” Dani replies, managing a smile. “I’ve been, um… I’ve been good. How’re you?”

“Good, good,” Bob nods, sitting up a bit straighter. “It’s been a while, huh? You girls getting some schoolwork done tonight?”

“Yeah, we’ve got a project due soon,” Dani answers, her voice steady, but the warmth in her chest remains. Bob has always been easy to talk to, the kind of dad who seems to genuinely care about what’s going on in his daughter and her friends’ lives. Unlike Dani’s own father, who’s much more reserved and strict, and has no room for anyone who doesn’t fit the mold he wants. For years, Bob has been like a second father to her, always offering an easy smile, a playful joke, and the kind of acceptance she craves so desperately at home.

It feels strange to stand here now, knowing how much she’s pulled away from all of it. But seeing that he doesn’t hate her for it—doesn’t even seem mad—is a small comfort. He’s still the same Bob, welcoming her back like no time has passed at all.

Before she can get too caught up in the moment, she feels a gentle pressure on her back. Paige’s hand is there, pushing her ever so slightly towards the stairs. “Alright, Dad, we gotta lock in,” Paige says, her voice casual, but Dani can feel the spark from Paige’s touch traveling through her body like a current.

Dani’s breath catches for a moment, her senses heightening from the simple contact. The warmth of Paige’s hand lingers long after it’s left her back, and she finds herself biting her lip, trying to control the whirlwind of emotions it stirs up inside her.

As she steps away from the living room, Dani catches Bob sending Paige a curious, almost quizzical look, like he’s trying to piece something together. She isn’t sure what it meant, but Paige’s sharp glare and the quick shake of her head that follows makes it clear that Paige doesn’t want to discuss whatever is running through her dad’s mind.

Dani respectfully pretends not to notice, keeping her gaze straight ahead as they climb the stairs to Paige’s room. She doesn’t ask what the silent exchange was about, doesn’t press for any explanation. Instead, she focuses on the task at hand—the project they’re supposed to be working on.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Dani tries to calm the storm of feelings swirling inside her. It isn’t easy, not when Paige is this close, not when the past few months of distance between them suddenly feels like they’re collapsing in on themselves. But Dani does her best, forcing herself to focus on what is important.

They’re just here to work. Nothing more. Or at least, that’s what she needs to keep telling herself.

When Dani reaches Paige’s room, she hesitates for a second in the doorway before stepping inside. It hasn’t changed much in the months since Dani last saw it. The bed, with its white comforter and a few basketball jerseys thrown haphazardly over the footboard, takes up most of the space. A desk, cluttered with textbooks, a laptop, and some old Gatorade bottles, is tucked in the corner. Posters of basketball players—Maya Moore, Sue Bird, Kobe Bryant—still line the walls, and there’s a worn basketball resting on the windowsill, sunlight catching its faded leather.

Paige drops her backpack near the desk and gestures to the bed. “We can work here. More room to spread everything out,” she says casually, already pulling out the materials for their project. She’s moving around the room with ease, like nothing’s out of the ordinary, like the weight of everything between them isn’t bearing down on them both.

Dani, on the other hand, feels like she’s walking on eggshells. She crosses the room slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands tightening around the straps of her backpack before she lets it fall to the floor. She watches as Paige plops down on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, stretching her long legs out across the mattress.

For a brief moment, Dani can’t help but notice how comfortable Paige looks, her confidence and ease. She’s always had that about her—this effortless way of taking up space, like she belongs everywhere she goes. It’s one of the things Dani’s always admired about her.

“Okay, so I was thinking we could start with this quote,” Paige says, breaking Dani’s thoughts as she leans forward, flipping through The Great Gatsby. “I think it connects to the main theme pretty well, and it’s, like, kinda poetic, right? Teachers eat that shit up.”

Dani chuckles softly, more to ease her own nerves than anything else. “Yeah, they do. But if you’re gonna try to sell this as poetic, I’m the one doing the writing. Your handwriting is tragic, Paige.”

Paige looks up, mock-offended. “Hey! It’s not that bad.”

Dani raises an eyebrow, fighting back a smirk. “Drew is seven, and I think his is better than yours.”

Paige’s shakes her head, face breaking into a grin, and she tosses a balled-up sock at Dani. “You’re so mean.”

Dani laughs as she dodges the sock, some of the tension loosening in her chest. The teasing feels like old times—like before everything got so complicated. It’s easy, comfortable, and for a second, Dani lets herself enjoy it.

They settle into the work, spreading the poster board out on the bed between them. Dani takes the Sharpie, naturally assuming the role of the one in charge of writing, while Paige flips through their book, looking for quotes and points to add.

For a while, it feels almost normal. Paige is talking, rambling about how stupid it is Mrs. Donovan is for assigning such a tedious project on top of all their other assignments, and Dani merely listens, her focus split between writing and keeping herself from staring too long at Paige. But as they fall into a rhythm, Dani becomes aware of how close Paige is sitting, their knees brushing occasionally, Paige’s arm resting against hers as she points out things to add to the poster.

And then, Dani feels it—Paige’s breath, warm against the side of her face. She’s leaning in, watching Dani write something down, her face hovering close, too close. Dani’s heart skips a beat, her hand faltering for a split second before she forces herself to keep writing. But it’s hard—so fucking hard—because all she can think about is how close Paige is, how their proximity makes her skin tingle, how she’s suddenly hyper-aware of every movement, every shift in the air between them.

Paige doesn’t seem to notice—at least, not at first. She’s just watching Dani’s hand move across the poster board, her focus seemingly on the project. But then, Dani turns her head just slightly, feeling the heat of Paige’s breath on her cheek, and she makes the mistake of meeting Paige’s eyes.

Everything stops.

For a moment, it feels like time freezes, and all Dani can see is Paige—those bright blue eyes, intense and unwavering, locked onto hers. Dani’s heart races, pounding so hard she’s sure Paige can hear it. And then, Paige’s gaze flickers, dropping down to Dani’s lips, and Dani feels her stomach twist painfully, every nerve in her body screaming at her to just do it. To close the gap, to kiss her, to finally stop pretending.

But she can’t.

She can’t.

Dani’s head is spinning, the weight of everything crashing down on her all at once. Her body wants to lean in, to give in to the pull between them, but her mind—her mind is a storm of guilt, of shame, of fear.

It’s wrong.

It’s all wrong.

So she pulls away, turning her head sharply and forcing her gaze back down to the poster, her hand gripping the Sharpie so tightly it hurts. Her heart is still racing, her body still trembling with the aftermath of what almost happened. But she forces herself to focus, to breathe, to keep going as if nothing had just passed between them.

She hears Paige let out a long, quiet breath beside her, and then, softly, “I’m sorry.”

The words hang in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Dani feels them settle deep in her chest, a mix of relief and regret swirling together in a confusing mess of emotions. Paige’s apology is genuine—Dani can hear it in her voice—but it only makes things harder. Because the truth is, Dani isn’t sorry at all.

She’s only sorry that she pulled away.

And that’s the worst part.

Dani doesn’t look up. She doesn’t trust herself to. Instead, she murmurs, “It’s okay,” though she knows it’s not. Nothing about this is okay. But what else can she say?

They fall back into an uneasy silence after that, the weight of what almost happened still thick in the air. Dani focuses on finishing the poster, her hand moving mechanically, trying to pretend like her mind isn’t still reeling. Paige, for her part, stays quiet too, though Dani can feel her shifting beside her, can sense the tension in her body.

Finally, when the poster is nearly complete, Paige clears her throat, breaking the silence. “You, uh… you coming to the game tomorrow?” she asks, her voice casual, like she’s trying to lighten the mood.

Dani blinks, the sudden question catching her off guard. “The game?”

“Yeah. Season opener for both the boys’ and girls’ teams,” Paige says, her tone a little brighter now. “I thought you knew.”

Dani shakes her head, feeling a bit dazed. “No, I didn’t know.”

Paige gasps dramatically, her eyes widening in mock horror. “Dani! How could you not know? This is, like, the most important night of the school year so far!”

Dani can’t help but smile a little, despite herself. “I guess I’ve been… distracted.”

“Well, now you know,” Paige says, grinning at her. “And you have to come. Everyone’s going to be there, and you’ll get to watch me hoop. And, y’know, dominate.”

Dani rolls her eyes, but the playful banter eases some of the tension that’s been hanging between them. “Maybe,” she says, her tone noncommittal, though she’s already thinking about it. About seeing Paige out on the court, in her element, the way she always is.

Paige nudges her with her shoulder, her touch light and playful. “Come on. You know you want to.”

Dani shakes her head, trying not to smile. “We’ll see.”

But even as she says it, she knows she’ll be there. When it comes to Paige, even if she doesn’t want to be, she always is.

DANI’S STARTING to wish she didn’t come. She stands in the student section, squeezed between Beau and his friends, the noise of the gym around them loud and chaotic. The boys’ basketball game is in full swing, and Beau’s friends are hyped up, yelling and laughing. Beau’s arm is loosely draped over her shoulders, but it feels heavy, like a weight she can’t shake off.

She tries to focus on the game—basketball has always been something she’s enjoyed, not just because of Paige, but because she grew up around it. Paige’s passion for the sport had bled into Dani over the years, so watching a game, especially when the stakes are high, has always been something she genuinely likes.

But Beau is being obnoxious. They’ve been bickering the whole night, subtle digs and passive-aggressive comments about stupid things, and Dani’s patience is already running thin. Every time he opens his mouth, she feels herself getting more annoyed, his voice grating on her nerves.

“Why are you even getting mad?” Beau snaps, his tone sharp but low enough that his friends don’t catch it. “It’s not that deep, Dani.”

She grits her teeth, keeping her eyes on the court. “I’m not mad, I’m just—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. It’s not worth it. Not here, not in front of everyone.

The boys’ game is nearing the end, and Hopkins is winning. The student section is electric, buzzing with excitement as the clock winds down. Dani tries to get into it, cheering with the rest of them as the final buzzer sounds and the boys secure their win. Beau and his friends are all high-fiving, acting like they had something to do with it, and Dani plays along, smiling tightly.

But the second the boys’ game is over, Beau grabs her hand. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, already pulling her out of the student section.

Dani blinks, pulling her hand back. “What? The girls’ game hasn’t even started yet.”

Beau frowns, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, and? Girls’ basketball is boring.”

Liam, one of Beau’s friends, overhears and looks at them, eyebrows raised. “Bro, what? No, it’s not. They won states last year.”

Dani crosses her arms, glaring at Beau. “Exactly. Hopkins’ girls’ team is legit, and Paige—”

“Bueckers is a dawg on the court, for real,” Liam adds, cutting in. “I know you don’t fuck with her for whatever reason, but come on, man, we’re supposed to be running the student section. Everyone’s staying for the girls’ game.”

Beau rolls his eyes, clearly irritated. He stares at Liam with his lips pursed for a moment, before his eyes flick down to Dani. They’re asking a silent question.

Dani raises her eyebrows at him, her voice cool. “I’m staying.”

Beau stares at her for a second longer, then sighs loudly, like he’s making some huge sacrifice. “Fine. Whatever.” He flops back down in his seat with an exaggerated groan, and Dani fights the urge to roll her eyes.

The girls’ game is about to start, and Dani can already feel the shift in energy. The stands are still full, and the Hopkins crowd is as loud as ever. When the girls’ team comes out onto the court, led by Paige, the cheers erupt again, the student section losing its mind.

Dani’s eyes immediately find Paige. It’s impossible not to. Paige moves with this effortless confidence, her face all focus and determination as she leads her team through warm-ups. The way she dribbles, the way she commands the court—it’s something Dani’s always admired, even if she’d never admit it out loud. Paige is great—better than great, honestly.

The game starts, and Dani locks in, watching as Paige takes control of Hopkins’ offense, setting the pace and threading passes that seem impossible. The whole team is clicking, and it’s easy to see why they’re such a powerhouse.

It’s not just Paige, Dani tells herself. She’s genuinely interested in the game.

But deep down, she knows that’s a lie.

Her eyes keep finding the blonde—how she cuts to the basket, how she dishes out assists, how every movement is calculated and precise. It’s hard to look away. There’s something magnetic about Paige when she’s playing, like she’s exactly where she belongs.

Just when Dani is fully absorbed in the game, Beau nudges her with his elbow. “You seriously like this?” he mutters under his breath.

Dani’s jaw tightens. “Yeah, I do,” she snaps back, her voice low but sharp. She doesn’t need this right now, not when she’s finally getting into the game.

Beau scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s so slow. No dunks, no excitement. I don’t get it.”

Dani’s patience is wearing thin. “I like it because it’s good basketball, Beau.”

He gives her a look, his lips curving into a smirk that she immediately hates. “Yeah, sure.”

She turns away from him, trying to ignore how irritated she feels, but Beau doesn’t let up. “You know, if you didn’t have a weird thing for Bueckers, maybe you’d see how boring this is.”

Dani’s stomach twists at the mention of Paige, and she sends him a sharp glare. “I don’t have a thing for her,” she mutters, her voice tight, but even she doesn’t believe the words.

Beau just laughs, clearly enjoying the fact that he’s getting under her skin. “Right. You’ve been staring at her this whole game.”

Dani digs a nail into the palm of her hand. “Just drop it, okay?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, eyes returning to the game with such a disinterest that it makes Dani want to slap him.

Dani’s heart is racing now, a mix of anger and anxiety bubbling up in her chest. She’s not defensive—she just… she just likes watching a good game. That’s it. It has nothing to do with Paige. But the more Beau talks, the harder it is to convince herself of that.

Beau leans in closer, his voice lowering. “If you wanna stay for her, fine. But don’t pretend like this isn’t about her.”

Dani turns to him, her eyes narrowing. “You know what? I don’t need this right now.”

Beau’s smirk falters slightly, but he shrugs. “Whatever, Dani. You’re the one getting all worked up.”

Dani exhales slowly, forcing herself to look back at the game, but the moment is ruined. She can’t focus on the court anymore, can’t enjoy the way Paige is commanding the floor. All she can feel is Beau’s eyes on her, the weight of everything he’s implying pressing down on her.

Paige makes a slick pass to one of her teammates, and the crowd roars, but Dani barely registers it. She’s too distracted, too pissed off at Beau, and all she wants to do is yell at him, tell him to shut up, to stop ruining this for her.

Beau starts bouncing on his feet, clearly agitated, needing something to do. He leans over Dani to say to Liam, who sits next to her, “Man, this shit is so fuckin’ boring.”

Liam gives him a look, responding with, “Nah, it’s entertaining as hell. Quit being like that, bro.”

Beau rolls his eyes at his friend’s answer before his gaze returns to his girlfriend, and he mutters, “This game doesn’t even matter.”

Dani’s heart pounds in her chest, her frustration boiling over. “Yes, it does,” she hisses, turning to face him. “Have you not noticed that everyone but you likes watching them play? You’re acting like a misogynistic dick.”

Beau just laughs, shaking his head in what Dani thinks is disbelief. “You know, I really don’t get it, Dani,” he says, tongue poking at his cheek. “You used to be so fun. Now you’re just—”

“Just what?” she snaps, her voice louder than she intended. Several people in the student section glance over at them, but Dani doesn’t care.

“Forget it,” Beau mutters, looking away, but Dani’s had enough.

“No, say it,” she demands, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “What am I, Beau?”

He glares at her, his jaw tightening. “You’re pathetic. That’s what. Sitting here pretending you care about this stupid game just because your little crush is out there running the court.”

Dani’s breath catches in her throat, anger flaring hot and fast. “God, you’re such an asshole.”

Beau snorts, rolling his eyes. “Oh, I’m the asshole? You’ve been acting weird as hell for weeks!”

Before she can even think of a response, he stands up, making a move like he’s going to leave. “I’m done with this shit. Let’s just go.”

Dani’s had enough. Every word that comes out of his mouth feels like a punch to the gut, and the way he’s looking at her right now—like she’s some kind of burden—makes her want to scream. She can feel her pulse in her temples, the frustration clawing at her, and she can’t take it anymore.

“Fine,” she says, her voice clipped as she grabs her jacket off the bleacher. “Let’s go.”

She storms out of the student section, Beau right on her heels, muttering under his breath. The second they’re outside, the cold air hits her like a slap in the face. It’s dark now, the night settling in over the high school, and the quiet around them makes every word that follows feel louder, sharper.

“Jesus, what the hell is your problem?” Beau snaps, his voice echoing as they walk past the athletic entrance.

Dani spins around, her eyes blazing. “My problem? You’ve been a dick all night, Beau. I’m trying to have a good time, and all you do is bitch about everything. Why can’t you just—” She breaks off, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Why can’t you just be normal for one fucking night?”

He takes a step closer, his eyes narrowed. “Maybe I wouldn’t be pissed off if you weren’t so obvious about how much you still care about her. Y’know, I thought you were done with her. But it seems like her gayness is still rubbing off on you!”

Dani flinches, his words hitting too close to home. “This isn’t about Paige,” she lies, her voice cracking slightly.

Beau scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest. “Bullshit, Dani. It’s always about Paige with you. And it’s always about you with Paige. Do you know how many times she’s talked to me about you like some protective girlfriend? As if you’re dating her instead of me!”

“She and I aren’t fucking dating!” Dani yells, her frustration boiling over. “We hardly even speak any more, Jesus Christ! She’s only so protective because we’ve been best friends since we were kids, and she can probably tell how shit of a boyfriend you are!”

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched. “Bull-fucking-shit,” he denies, narrowing his eyes at her. “You’re not just friends with her, and we both know it.”

Dani freezes ever so slightly, her heart thudding in her chest. The accusation hangs in the air between them, thick and suffocating. Beau’s staring at her, his eyes hard, waiting for her to deny it, but she can’t. She doesn’t say anything, her mind racing, and in that silence, she knows that he knows.

“See?” Beau says bitterly, throwing his arms out. “You can’t even deny it.”

“I don’t—” Dani starts, but her voice falters. She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t even know how to process what’s happening. All she knows is that she’s so tired. Tired of pretending, tired of fighting, tired of this relationship that’s been falling apart ever since it started.

Beau shakes his head, turning away like he’s about to walk off. “I don’t know why I even bother anymore.”

Dani’s chest tightens, and before she can stop herself, she blurts out, “Then don’t.”

Beau stops, his back still to her, and when he turns around, his face is set in a hard, bitter expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dani takes a deep breath, the cold air stinging her lungs. “I don’t want to do this anymore, Beau. I can’t keep pretending like we’re good, because we’re not.”

His eyes flash with anger, but there’s something else there too—something like hurt. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna throw this all away because of her?”

Dani shakes her head, keeping her gaze firm. “This isn’t for her,” she responds. “This is for me. And I think this might be for you, too. You’re not happy; I’m not happy. We’ve been done for a while, and you know it.”

Beau stares at her for a long moment, and then he laughs—a pungent, humorless sound. “Fine. I don’t give a shit anymore.”

He turns on his heel, walking away, and Dani watches him go, her breath fogging in the cold night air. She should feel something—regret, sadness, anything—but all she feels is relief. A strange, dizzying sense of freedom washes over her as Beau disappears into the dark.

She stands there for a moment, staring at the empty parking lot, her heart still racing. The night is quiet now, the only sound the distant hum of the game still going on inside. And for the first time in a long time, Dani feels like she can finally breathe.

[lottiies]

life is beautiful, but you don’t have a clue

⇢ getting all bruised up and battered with minimum medical aid from the government is brutal. leon doesn’t believe he deserves to be helped, though. after months of hiding these moments of vulnerability from you, he lets finally lets you in, knowing deep down that you wouldn’t turn him away

cw: fem!reader, established relationship, leon’s alcohol dependency and low self-worth, religious guilt, attempts to hide depression, brief description of wounds, angst, comfort and reassurance, patching him up, small snippet with chris, 3.2k wc

note: i promise there’s more to me than just writing ooc smut for him 😞 i rewatched vendetta and omg i want to hug him so bad. (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) i’m not sure if the small font is too straining on the eyes, if it is, lmk!! i’ll change it back to the regular sized one. if you see typos, no you didn’t

divider below is by @/cafekitsune!!

just how many confessionals and assigned prayers would it take for leon to be forgiven for all his wrong doings? probably more than he could keep track of. then again, he hasn’t clasped his hands together and recited a muttered chant for redemption in ages. the belief in a savior dissipated alongside his naive outlook in life once upon a time.

he had laid on a cold hard mattress for hours in the infirmary made specifically for DSO agents. the nurses didn’t give him much care, though. he was patched up, prescribed some pain killers, and sent home. the recovery period was over a month long, but he knew he wouldn’t actually be granted that much rest before he had to be back in action.

two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. he’s dealt with those same conditions time and time again, but it never got any easier, especially as he got older. he was busy basking in his misery, longing for only two things: the bitter taste of alcohol on his tongue, and his girlfriend’s soothing presence.

he tried to keep this part of him hidden, he was ashamed. he had already opened up to you about his job, and how he would be away for long periods. what he didn’t tell you was that those said long periods usually included his recovery, so you didn’t have to see him all broken and battered. he usually kept all the lights in his house off even when the evening approached, so you wouldn’t know he was back in town if you happened to drive by his place.

the two of you had gotten together a year and a half ago, and he used to be more…stable. he feared you’d up and leave him if you found out how bad it had gotten for him.

but the thing is, he knew you would take care of him. your love for him was unconditional, and he didn’t know whether to be grateful for it or to feel sorry for you. after all, he was known to have occasional outbursts of irritation, being on edge from all his baggage and his frequent doses of hard liquor. but he wasn’t a bad man, he just needed some TLC.

he could nurse his good ol’ mind numbing beverages stored coldly in his fridge all he wanted, but it wouldn’t make him feel any better. in fact, his self-hatred only grew once he found himself depending on alcohol. in his head, he chose to rely on a drink to feel a buzz. in reality, that was far from the truth. a man like him was drowning in the depths of his baggage. PTSD, survivor’s guilt, and alcohol didn’t mesh well.

it was you who kept him sane, really.

you were the skin-kissing sun after a harsh thunderstorm, like a balm to his traumatized and guilt ridden soul. you saw him for who he was, the selfless and love-yearning man he had always been, not a grouchy killing-machine like some people started to view him as of late.

even when he was overseas, your love always managed to reach him.

it was those heartfelt text messages and voicemails he often received that made him tread through his missions carefully, he knew there was someone back home worth living for.

voicemails:

“hi leon! i know you said you might not have internet connection over there or that your phone might break but…um…i dunno, there’s a chance you’ll hear this, so might as well, right? i really miss you. i was procrastinating during my job the other day, yeah boo me…but i made a list of some movies we can watch when you’re back in town. maybe you can come over and we can cuddle on my couch all night, hehe. anyway, i hope you’re okay. i really don’t want you to get hurt or anything. call me when you fly back in?”

“oh shit, is this voicemail? [incoherent mumbling] uh, okay yeah. hi leon, i’m at rite aid right now. i don’t wanna sound nosy but i saw some of the bloodied medical tape you left in my trash and…and i just got worried and wondered if you needed anything? maybe you didn’t want to concern me but, tell me next time okay? let’s see…there’s a lot of different brands, i dont know which one you’d like. call me back ASAP, i’m gonna stay here for a bit longer just in case you do. bye, i love you!”

“okay i figured you wouldn’t pick up. i know it’s like four am but i just woke up and my dream was about us! it went like…like…oh shit. i think i forgot already, bummer!” silence, and some hums. “i literally just had the dream like five seconds ago and i can’t remember it anymore. i’m pissed! anyway, see you tomorrow? or today, technically. bye!”

messages:

found this meme and it reminded me of you…wait do you even know what a meme is? ha, loser

here’s the link to the letterboxd website i told you about earlier!

come overrrr, i’m off work at 8 today. unless my asshole of a coworker shows up late again, ugh

you left your jacket at my house, it’s mine now!!!

not sure if you fell asleep already but please text me back when you can and when you’re sober. ik we just had an argument but we should talk it over, i want everything to be okay between us, i love you. you’re not mad at me are you??

replaying those sweet voicemails was like a remedy, providing such raw tenderness that nothing else in the universe could. you were the epitome of an angel walking the earth, keeping him from falling into the pits of hell by visiting his dreams whenever fell asleep all splayed out on his floor with an empty bottle by his side. it should be you snuggled against him instead, on a bed.

while you gave leon all your sweet love, there were other people working behind the scenes, dishing out some tough love to leon. like chris, who had hit rock bottom once and didn’t want leon to fall prey to the same thing.

“and how about your girl? you really think she’ll want to deal with you being like this all the time?” chris asked, his voice more agitated than mad. he wasn’t angry, just worried and wanting to push the truth into leon’s head. he had found leon sitting on his ass with a drink too many times to be considered a brief stress relief.

“leave her outta this.” leon scoffed, turning off his phone (he had been staring at his wallpaper that was a picture of you.) “i don’t let her see this side of me.”

“side? leon, it’s not just a side. it’ll consume you whole. what happens when it becomes your whole life, huh? what happens when you start disappearing all the time?”

“get off my ass, chris.” leon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to not lash out. “i came here for some peace and quiet, not for you to nag at me like you’re my mother.”

“i’m not trying to–” chris cut himself off, unsure of how to get across to leon. leon was absolutely miserable, the only time chris saw some hope in his eyes was whenever he soberly rambled about you. “i’m just saying that you’ve got a good thing going for you, and i don’t want you to ruin it by not trying to get better.”

silence, so chris spoke up again. “she cares about you. so try to care about yourself too, okay? i’ve been there, i see myself in you. i know it’s not your fault that you’ve turned to alcohol. but, let her in, let her help.”

leon looked down at his glass, watching his own reflection, some guilt burning in his gut. he hung his head a bit, looking like a kitten that had just gotten in trouble. he knew chris was right.

maybe this once, he could break the cycle of hiding and cowering. his throat felt dry as he reached for his phone, wincing a bit at the shock of pain the movement caused.

his fingers struggled to tap his cracked screen, the brightness of it making his nose scrunch and eyes squint. eventually, he found the phone app, you were at the top of his list, and he dialed.

…

“leon!! hi, hold on, lemme turn my TV off, i was watching a podcast.” and surely enough, he could hear the background noise lower until it was gone completely and your heavenly voice was filling his ears again. “okay, done. i can’t believe you’re calling, i’ve been waiting all week! how are you? not hurt or anything, i hope? need me to pick you up from the airport or?”

his lips twitched, threatening to turn into a small smile at your bombardment of questions. but he bit it back, feeling undeserving of such happiness. your voice overpowered the weak buzzing of his fan and the wind that rusted outside.

“uh, no.” his voice sounded hoarse, so he tried to clear it. “i’m actually at home, was wondering if you could come over? i…kind of need some help. only if you can, i don’t want to bother you.”

the silence that lingered made him feel tense, his heart pumping so loud that the noise reached his ears. then he heard some shuffling over the phone, as well as some keys jingling.

“be there in fifteen.”

it was just like you to drop everything to help someone else, no questions asked (at least not yet.) god, he loved you.

his world had felt muted before you, devoid of any color and saturation. but every time you he thought of you, suddenly colors were blooming as if he was a blank canvas and your paintbrush strokes were bringing him to life and giving him a purpose.

waiting fifteen minutes felt like an hour, maybe because he was counting down the time on his fucked up lock screen. the numbers looked wonky, he could barely make them out. his watch was broken too, no luck there. having no concept of time, even for a moment, felt weird.

he eventually heard his front door lock twisting. he had given you a spare key just in case, he trusted that you would never snoop through his things or take advantage of that privilege.

“um, hello? leon?” you sounded worried.

“god, it’s dark in here…” you then mumbled, splaying your hand against the wall and searching for his light switch. a couple seconds later and bingo, the sudden bright light left you disoriented for a while.

“i’m on the couch. just…don’t say anything, please?”

your brows furrowed at his request, and you rushed on over, your shoes thudding against his wooden floor. surely enough, there he was, laying on his back with agony written on his features. he had his leather jacket off, his arms having nips and tears all over. small ones, at least, but still collectively all painful.

“oh leon…” a worried mutter fell from your lips, and you kneeled down, the harshness of the hard cold floor not even registering because you were too engrossed in him.

you didn’t want to cry in front of him, not when he was the one suffering. but the pain you felt in your chest for seeing your sweetheart look so defeated just had you getting a bit teary. leaning forward, you planted a kiss on his forehead, your hand raising to stroke the crown of his head. his hair was a bit knotted.

he leaned into your touch like a puppy, letting out a pleased sigh. your affection felt like a gift in a bow after the way he had been slammed around by infected enemies earlier.

“what happened? i—“ okay, he said no questions. you could save the context seeking ones for later, but you did have to know what was wrong. “where are you hurt?”

he didn’t dare look into your eyes, knowing that it would break him. he was looking down further at your neck though, so his gaze was at least on you.

“everywhere.” he managed to croak out with a dry chuckle. um, not helping. “if we’re talking specifics though, the doc told me i broke two ribs on my left side. i also dislocated my left shoulder, they put it back into place but um…y’know, it still hurts like hell.”

after taking a breath to compose yourself, you nodded and stood up. “okay. do you have an ice pack?”

leon nodded. “in my freezer.”

you went off to fetch it, also taking one of leon’s small kitchen towels and wrapping it around the ice pack before placing it onto the coffee table. then, you went to his bedroom, getting two of his pillows and the first aid kit in his bedside drawer.

his eyes lit up when you returned. you were so nurturing it made him want to sob into your arms. but he’d open up to you one step at a time, one day at a time.

“can you…can you try sitting up just a bit? you’re supposed to be a bit propped up.”

well, that wasn’t the worst he’s had to do with a broken rib. he could manage. with a grunt of pain, leon slowly propped himself up, giving you some time to slide the two pillows in.

“there we go.” with a small smile, you couldn’t resist but place another kiss against his forehead. it made him feel good, it was like all your gestures were doses of ibuprofen.

the coldness of the icepack had seeped into the towel. and you gently applied it to his left side, your eyes lifting to meet his face to watch for any indicators you might be hurting him.

“down or up?” you asked him, moving the ice pack up further. he hadn’t told you which ribs had been broken, after all.

“down, please.”

you hummed, moving it back down and letting it rest there.

“how do you know so much about this?” he asked. sure, an icepack was probably a no brainer but you seemed so sure of yourself by making him sit up more.

“google works wonders.” you shrugged alongside your answer. “i just figured some knowledge on the most common injuries would be good for me to learn since your job is pretty dangerous. call me psychic but i saw this in my future.”

some brief moments of quietness washed over afterwards, making him feel unsettled. were you angry because he had often kept his bedridden moments from you? he couldn’t tell.

“i’m sorry.” his apology hung in the room, every one of his nerves feeling on edge.

but it was your warm and gentle touch on his face that had him crawling out of his low self-worth and into reality. a reality where someone loved and cherished all parts of him from his darkest to brightest days. you.

“what are you sorry for?” your question was spoken through a whispered tone of voice. “you’re out here risking your life and saving people whose names you don’t even know, yet you’re apologizing?”

you kneeled down again so you could be closer to him, stroking the side of his face with your knuckles. “i wish you had told me, but i think i can understand why you didn’t. i don’t want you to feel like you have to hide this from me. you know i’m here for you.”

“i…i know.” he didn’t doubt how much you cared for him, but it was hard to feel like he deserved someone as great as you. what did he have to offer?

“c’mon, look at me.” you pleaded, having taken note of the way his pretty blue eyes hadn’t met yours even once.

he blinked, his eyes darting around a bit. he bit his bottom lip nervously before releasing it. it was only when he felt your hand slide down to hold his that he finally mustered the courage looked into your eyes.

he looked broken, but willing. a small glimmer in his eyes that begged for devotion and comfort, for his angel to continue guiding him even when he lost his path. to not be cast aside like he was replaceable. he couldn’t leave his job or the hell that was his life even if he wanted to, but you made life worth living.

you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “i love you, leon. through sickness and health.”

you couldn’t suppress the desire to kiss him yet again, this time scattering them all over his face. your affection brought a surge of joy over him.

the wedding vow reference made him crack a grin. he chuckled a bit even though it caused his injured body discomfort. “i love you too.”

“did you think i wouldn’t help you?”

while you asked the question, your eyes skimmed over his body. his clothes were nipped at, the tears revealing some patches of his skin that had dried up blood or that were bruised. geez. you just wanted to cling to him, but you knew that would only strain him.

“i knew you would.” he began, watching as you stood up and disappeared back into the kitchen. he could hear the sink running. “i didn’t want you to spend your time looking after me, you have your own life to live. you shouldn’t have to babysit me.”

you came back with a wet towel, using it to clean up the dirt and blood on his arms, making sure to be gentle.

“babysit you? that’s not what it’s called, leon. i’m taking care of you, is all. i know you’d do the same and be even more stubborn about it.”

his eyes were trained on you, appreciating the concentration you held while cleaning him up. like a feather, your nimble fingers only left fleeting sensations against his skin. so delicately and tenderly, you treated him.

“yeah, i probably would. thank you.”

“don’t mention it.”

you spent the next twenty minutes disinfecting all his open injuries and putting gauzes over them, making some conversation but keeping it light since you needed to focus. there was more of a sparkle in his eyes than before, you had patched him up both physically and emotionally.

“how’re you feeling?”

“better. can’t say i’ll be able to walk properly tomorrow, though.”

“you need lots of rest to recover. you should sleep.”

and he was fucking tired, having stayed up all day. his body had been on fight-or-flight mode so many times that it had exhausted all his emergency energy. and initially he was sure his injuries wouldn’t let him rest, but you were here now, watching over him.

“yeah, i should.” he agreed with you. “will you…will you be here when i wake up?”

okay. you felt warm inside, he was opening up to you, allowing you to stay by his weakened side. “of course. and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that, and um, you get the point.”

you lifted a hand to rub at his temples, alleviating the headache he had. leon groaned contentedly, his long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes shut. he could feel some drowsiness kicking in already.

“i could get used to this.”

“mhm, just go to sleep.” you voice was getting quieter and quieter in his mind, when’s the last time he fell asleep this quickly? maybe when he was 20. last time he had a broken rib, he didn’t get a wink of sleep.

maybe life was constantly testing him, disrupting his peace at every turn, seeping into all the crooks and nannies. but he found his person, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, the one who reminded him of how valuable his life and accomplishments were.

yeah, he could see his future, alright. one where he only picked up a bottle of beer during celebrations, one where he could be tangled up with you and be doted on without feeling guilt.

and it was sooner than later that those thoughts would be fulfilled.

[anantaru]

SNEAKY DEVIL

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — being with your ex on a friday night surely was the last thing you had in mind.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 2.1k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, play toxic by britney spears, ex! boyfriend kuni, slight yan ?? a sprinkle, he‘s not accepting the break up, this is the part two of my kuni angst fic — ꒰ part one ꒱

"would you look at yourself."

for each aspect, when there was good, there was also evil.

yet in his taunting eyes, it seemed as if there was only darkness, no light or anything that would hint at the fact that scaramouche might be a good person after all.

and as for you?

the embarrassment you had felt each time you let him stumble back into your life was burning through the entirety of your skin, greedily gnawing itself onto your heart from within.

before anything, how did it come to this point in your life again?

the reason .. well, you couldn‘t explain it yourself, even if you tried.

if you haven‘t figured it out yet as on to why you keep coming back, keep opening the door for him and letting him stay, knowing full on well it‘ll only end in the same gruesome, disgusting outcome again— it's safe to say you won't ever have an answer to your questions.

not all stars shine equally bright, and you knew, that kuni in particular was never going to give you a glowing future.

"s-shut up."

a myriad of moans and low whines filled the space in between your bodies as you barked back at his usual belittling tone— that he‘d always gather around when he was especially fed up with you.

"if only your past self could see you right now." to the corners of his mouth, a smirk cradled his lips, one that was menacing and proud of himself, proud to get the person he so called loved, in such a humiliating position.

he‘s lowering his head down while roughly burying his stiff cock further into your pussy until fully sheathed, your lips ghosting over one another, "to even have the nerve to break up with me in the first place."

his face adorned with an unflinching, serious expression, suddenly groaning as you involuntarly clenched down on him, "and now you‘re letting yourself get fucked like a bitch in heat." he pauses subsequently to messily brush away the single tear that lonely spilled down your warm cheek.

"fucked by me." his ferocious, melodic voice was vibrating into the depths of your skin, anchoring your soul.

"it‘s not like that!" you panic, each of his words were sharply cutting through your heart and feelings.

with the world falling down on your shoulders, into place, who were you trying to persuade with this?

scaramouche or simply yourself?

he wiped his hair strands— which were sticking onto his forehead, back, his skin, being illuminated much paler by the faint glow of the night, enhancing and further amplifying his damned beauty— that would always keep on mesmerizing you.

"then tell me how it is, hm?" each of his arms were carefully placed next to your head, trapping you with his body. Yet however, if you didn‘t know any better, he would‘ve given the impression that he actually cared, with the way his voice slightly softened.

pseudo innocently, scaramouche had began to observe your face, as if to wait for an actual response from you.

in retrospect, it was now clear that the whole, bloody situation you found yourself in, together with this— so called relationship, was far too complicated for your own good, anyones good, that is.

you didn‘t respond to him, a little nervous, when you averted your eyes. In fact, you weren‘t quite fond of the idea to voice anything at all.

your panicked thoughts held a significant clasp on you— sceaming internally. And although you felt slight menacing terror in his voice, with a sharp cutting panic in your throat— said attributes weren't even the worst parts of the current state of your affairs.

because in reality, you somehow enjoyed this. Not the considerable amount of pain he‘d inflict on you through words, but the familiar, once loved, tenderness of him.

you‘d lie to yourself if you‘d say you didn‘t miss him at least once or twice, sometimes even fantasizing back at the times you were intimate with each other, both stroking and pleasuring your bodies throughout the whole night until the morning sun approached you through the windows, rattling your skins awake.

you do not speak, unable to do so. Scaramouche intentionally fucked himself so far up your sore cunt that you could barely hold onto the bedsheets yourself, your drenched and swollen pussy violently gushing around his girth, his eyes beaming with self satisfied pride.

"thought so." he says nonchalantly, as if trying to prove his point.

your hands fell to your sides, just the precise thrusts of him, the targeting of your surging spots insides, caused you tumble over your own moans, mewling when he claimed you, all of you.

scaramouche switched to a tight, heavy grip, rapidly shoving his stiff heavy member past your aching hole, a feral pace, back and forth, his cock head kissing the deepest ends of your sensitivity.

you can feel his hand roam through your hips, caress your shaking body and slide over your natural curves. Your erected nipples repeatedly rubbed over his hard chest, gratifying the painful ache in your breasts.

scaramouche was quick to collect one in his palm, roughly mashing the mound of flesh in combination with the relentless push of his hips, the muscles in your core quivering.

"f-fuck, you don't even want to now how much i missed that." he shamelessly admitted, "how much i dreamed about fucking you again." mumbling the affirmations straight against your pouted lips and expanding a heavy pant once your mushy cunt forcibly squeezed down on him, dashingly gyrating around his imposing girth.

it was clear as day that he'd never get fully satisfied or satiated by fucking you anymore, the time apart you had spent were a torturous living hell to scaramouche, like a racking broken record that couldn't be fixed, playing a boring, lifeless song, over and over again.

however, you weren't going to give him what he wants, never, hopelessly trembling over your own words as you spoke.

"just, f-fuck— just shut up and fuck me." that's all it took you to bring him spiraling, a little faster as he suddenly mercilessly jolted into you with the obscene squelching noises leaving nothing left to the imagination.

for a second he observed the spot in between your in sweat soiled bodies, how disgustingly wet and filthy, a complete mess, he thought to himself. You were so exposed, bare and open for him, unrestrainedly dirtying his entire length with your slick, sloppily milking his drumming cock.

"i-if that's how you want to play this game." he promptly pauses, driving his erection impossibly deep into your squelching mess and grinding down, wiggling his hips the moment he was fully settled which caused you to mewl out achingly, moaning at every new hit.

your chest rattled with a shaky breath, the control of your body slowly but surely fading away into the pits of hell, shoving down the last remnants of self control you had stored in you.

"that's right." scaramouche coos upon seeing you struggle, cupping your cheeks and gently brushing his rough thumb over your slightly pouted lips, his loins on fire as he caught a glimpse of a single tear desperately hanging on your lashes, spilling at last. "i'm the only one who can make you feel this way."

you were trying to speak, anything, just something but he shushes you, soothes you and carries on to grind down, his facial expression almost reminding of a mocking tone, breathlessly smacking through your clenching hole that was brutally clasping around his girth.

"you're cruel." you managed to whisper, "you're so cruel." a sad heave in your voice.

those words reverberated along his bones and in his blood, forcing a numerous amount of groans through his gnawed teeth, moaning with every swallow of you.

the delicious pleasure rushed through your blood and grew the fire in your cheeks. Scaramouche lowered his head to starvingly seek your mouth, roughly plastering his hungry lips on top of yours to sloppily kiss you.

you're clinging onto him as you returned his plea, teeth colliding against each other when he drew himself away, "i'm cruel because i love you." the entry of it all rendered you speechless, your tears now fully dripping down the corners of your eyes, pouring down your skin.

reality is brought into sharp focus when you perceived the deeply intertwined bubble in your belly and how it was about to pop soon. With the curve of his lengthy cock, thickly hanging inside of you, scaramouche had an easy task to hit every so little swollen spot in within your velvety walls, eagerly rubbing them.

he's jerking himself slower and tantalizing, signalizing that he too, was close to his euphoric release. The scrutiny of pleasure was intoxicating and thick, your mouth gaping open but nothing came out, words without sounds, silent cries of your orgasm chasing your body.

you're screaming and convulsing on his cock, guzzling him dry with your sweet pussy— that he felt so squishy and soft inside of, it almost brought him to tears.

he's pulling you close, further, greedy for friction and release, scaramouche clasped onto you tighter with every new force of his hips, declaring your entire being as his, the power of his authority agonizingly searing.

the underlying sick bliss of his member filling you, his hand rubbing your erected nipple while you were fully emerged in suckling on his tongue, working around his wet muscle and tasting his saliva, a desperate ache pulsing in between.

you tipped your head back and let him hold you, in tandem, thrumming his hips into the right places in your insides. You sensed it, felt it, how he twitched in you and was about to unload his cum, your thighs already shining with wetness.

each pulse and tingle of his cock, unlocked a spasming sensation in your core, limbs tangling and hopelessly hanging onto each other as you collapsed, the smell of sex hurtling in the air of the thick room and amplifying your strong, tremendous release.

"f-fuck, fuck!" you're blurting out through impenetrable panting, moaning with your back rounded up to meet his relentless pace, your toes curling inwards as your entire body shuddered in both vibrations and the feeling of letting go, shaking at the overstimulation with the repeating press of his cock on your heat never giving you rest.

at the constant gushing and clenching of your tight cunt, scaramouche threw his head back and tore a current of groans off his throat, "archons-" he's whining out, the sounds breaking in the middle, "you always— always feel so incredible, fuck."

he's speeding up, muttering in your neck as he fully blew his load in you, your legs secured around his waist as he proceeded to greedily pump his warm seed in the deepest ends of your slicked up cunt, shivering with the overcoming stir.

his drunkened gaze caught his mess, his white ribbons smearing over the aching flesh of your drained walls as the thick globules of his cum began to gush out of your hole, drenching the damp sheets under you.

"say you love me." he's whispering of a sudden, his musky scent collapsing over you, "say it."

your body closely pounded to his to hide your face in his shoulder but scaramouche was eager to gather you in his palms, still able to perceive the wet, tired clench of your muscles on his half erected cock.

he's slumping on you, minutes passing with none of you building up enough strength to back away, "p-please." scaramouche kissed the corners of your lips, he was begging you, waiting and swallowing your name in between whimpers.

"i love you, i do." you hummed weakly with your response, without knowing if you really meant it. Maybe it was the pressure you felt, or the way he looked at you through his puppy eyes, or simply the fact that you were utterly tired of going against him constantly, whenever you both found each other again.

he seemed trapped in a daze with his eyes sparkling upon hearing you, so far off and unable to move, not that he wanted to.

this situation afterwards felt like torture, unanswered questions, the tangible ways of it both hurtful but entrancing. He's tucking you to his lips to flood his tongue into your mouth, as if he didn't want this situation to end.

not only because he felt relaxed with you, pleased by your presence and comfortable on top of you, no, it was also because scaramouche couldn't articulate himself very well.

he wasn't looking forward to another fight, one that would always break out the moment you had finished being intimate, had finishing loving you and came back crushing down to the thing everyone knew as the so called reality.

you weren‘t possibly able to run away from the consequences, the truth, and he wasn‘t either, because believe him when he says, scaramouche had tried to run away from his fate, so many times, that he cannot even remember all of it.

©2023 anantaru do not share, copy, translate any of my work

[don1t1red]

Honestly, one thing about DotO which always bothered me is how Billie seems to be so lonely in her journey. And not in a way of "she is a lone-wolf" but in a literal sense of loneliness and not-belonging. It almost feels like it is her first day in Karnaca, a city where she doesn't know a single thing or person. Which isn't true. I know that a lot of people have already talked about this, and so I won't jump into the depth of criticism. Treat this post as a bunch of thoughts which occurred to me in my first playthrough.

Firstly, there is no recognition from different people. Stilton, for example. In DH2 she was ready to battle her way to his house and help him, she payed with her blood, her eye and her arm. And yet in DotO we don't see any valuable mentions of this man. Yes, we have a photo in her cabin but that's it! Nothing more nothing less, just a photo which exists in the cabin only to show us, the player, the Void rifts. Almost like it was never meant to actually represent their relationship, just a funny mechanic of the game.

Maybe I don't understand her character to that extent but when I firstly played and heard Billie's monologue about the state of the Dreadful Whale, I had a thought. Was there no one who could help her with that? And my first thought was Stilton, especially after I saw their photo together. But alas she didn't mention anything like that which was completely fine… till the The Stolen Archive mission. With a plot progression things became absurdly stupid. Billie learns that the cult uses Shindaerey as their hideout. And what is Shindaerey? It's a literal mining quarry.

And so you want to tell me that Billie who I know, cunning Billie, who was, by Daud's words, extremely good at unsolving mysteries, won't at least ask Stilton about this quarry? She won't ask a mining baron of Karnaca? Really? Give her skills some credit! I'm not asking for a 5 minute long cutscene but at least a small panel in the pre-mission briefing where Billie talks to him about that, and where we can see how worried he is for her. She is not alone and, no matter what, there is still at least one person who remembers her, sees her and wants the best for her. But again, for whatever reason Billie has no valuable connections in this game, it seems. So it didn't happen.

Two other people about which I keep thinking about are Thomas and that person who borrowed Billie's skiff and returned it during the Follow the Ink mission.

If that note from a certain T. was actually from Thomas I can't think of good enough reasons not to include some of the letter which might happen in between them during the events of the game. Thomas knew that both Billie and Daud were in Karnaca but he didn't know that Daud had died. And honestly an unfinished letter from Billie to him where she tries her best to write about their master's death but just can't - would be absolutely gut-wrenching and insightful. Also it could be interesting to see the difference in how Billie is talking about this event and how she is living through it in reality. Because - obviously - people's internal and external dialogues would be different and seeing that difference in Billie would help us, the player, to understand some shapes of her character.

Or maybe Thomas would learn about Daud's death himself somehow, maybe he could recognize Billie's work as she goes though the city to uncover its secrets. And, finally, it would be simply fun to find a small lootstach from Thomas on one of the missions, accompanied with a letter from him. How is he now? What are his thoughts about Billie? How do her actions are seen by the common folk? Or by the gangs? After all, a good character is not only divided by how the story sees that character but also how this character sees themselves and what other people in the story are thinking about this character. And, as I already said, this small letter exchange between Billie and Thomas could cover up those aspects.

And so we are left with only one character whose presence and absence in Billie's story bothers me. That person who borrowed the skiff. Because the skiff was Billie's main link between the shore and the Dreadful Whale. We learnt from DH2 that in any port there would be a “fee” for leaving the ship there, later, in DotO she complains that hiding her ship wasn't an easy task. So whoever borrowed it must be a good friend of Billie, as absence of the skiff puts her in a bad and potentially dangerous situation. Besides there is a note by a certain M., which talks about meeting with Billie later. I was kinda excited to see who this person might be. Someone whom I already know? Character from the first game? Maybe from the second one? Would it be a howler or black market dealer? Would they give me some special mission akin to one that Emily can get in the Royal Conservatory mission? Well, should I say that I was left wondering as there was not a single special NPC which met the criteria.

What? I forgot about someone? Deirdre? Oh, right. Deirdre. The best person in Billie's life and the worst death in Billie's memory. Right. It's almost too easy to forget that she exists, as Billie talks about her approximately two times in the game? More or less so. Should she talk more about her? Maybe, I don't know. But I remember thinking about using the rat charm in the Void or in the quarry. I thought that in the Void I could hear the real Deirdre speaking, this idea gave me chills back then. To adjust to the voice of your loved one's from rats, only to hear her cursing you for all you have done or to call you from beyond. I thought that she would appear somewhere in the Void, just in the corner of my vision. But again it didn't happen. And I don't know for better or for worse. As in the current state if you want to completely strip her out from the game - you won't lose a single thing. After all, a rat charm is just a rat charm, and so is a voice in it, as it never changes and never really speaks to Billie, it was never a personal matter.

Overall, I don't want to be another person who throws rocks at DotO as, honestly, I like Billie and I'm just… sad, I guess. I'm sad that the game about such a character fails to make me think more of her. I'm sad that the plot of this game was kinda ruined with a terrible script. And, at the end of the day, I'm just sad that Billies didn't get her chance to shine in her own game.

But nonetheless I still like Billie and, at least, her sarcastic comments on the surrounding was always a delight to hear, so I'm gonna replay this game one more time in vain hopes to find what I see in it.

[writingreadinglurkingandsmirking]

It's So Hard To Watch (Everything I Want) - reality tv star!Rafe Cameron x Reader

I Feel You Underneath My Tongue (Next To Every Word That I Should Have Said): Part 1, Part 2

Summary: You and Rafe had a long history together. The love that you shared wasn’t something that you’d ever questioned–not even when you guys were on a break from your relationship. But, suddenly he’s ghosting you. And the next thing you know? You’re getting a call from an MTV producer saying your ex Rafe is a contestant on Are You The One? and they need to come in for the ex’s episode of the show. And well, you couldn’t say no, could you?

CW/TWs: angst, female reader implied, cursing, toxic relationships afoot, a brief description of physical violence, implied previous physical violence, verbal harassment/abuse, not the most edited/reviewed

Words: 8.4k+

Note: Yes I used pretty boy blonde-era Drew for my header what about it!! And also? I used Jeff Probst because I thought it would be funny OBVIOUSLY he’d never host a reality tv dating show goodbye. So I started writing this a long time ago, forgot about it, and just revisited it to finish ‘er up. Now that said, uhhhhh I think I mayyyyy do a part 2 where Rafe gets back home because this is uhhhhh depressing and I Need closure. But! We’ll see!

Rafe Cameron had never been one you’d see going on a fucking reality TV show. No. Not at all, in fact. You had known him for the majority of his life. You’d dated the idiot for three years too. After the breakup, you went no contact for your own sake—he was impossible to be around and not fall back into his arms, no matter how much you hated it. Rafe hated it more, though. He tried desperately in the nearly year and a half since your break-up to get back together. You watched as he genuinely worked on changing himself and improving.

But then, suddenly, four months earlier he’d gone radio silent. You’d be the worst kind of liar if you said that it hadn’t hurt you. The abrupt cut-off had made you realize just how close you’d been to taking him back. Apparently, that wasn’t in the cards, though. Apparently, he was entirely over you. No matter how much you utterly fucking hated that. No matter how much it fucking destroyed you after those first two weeks of realizing that he wasn’t going to be coming back.

It got even weirder, though when a fucking MTV producer reached out to you. We’re with MTV’s Are You The One? they’d explained. You’re the ex of one of our contestants Rafe Cameron. Literally what? Would you be interested in getting a trip to Hawaii and being part of the experience? And again, unendingly now, what the actual fuck had Rafe gotten himself into? And why the fuck was he trying to have you be dragged into it?

All of the emotions that flooded you when that phone call started were…violent to say the least. And you were sad too. Part of you had hoped that Rafe would get the fuck over himself and call you again. Part of you hoped that you would’ve been able to give it another shot. But no. Apparently, he’d decided it’d be much more fun to just, you know, go on a stupid dating show with MTV and find his alleged perfect match. It made you sick to your stomach.

Are You the One was a show that felt like it was ripped from your worst nightmares. At least if Rafe was a contestant on it with someone else. The show had a dating algorithm that helps quantify compatibility for twenty-two people. It uses, according to the producer, in-depth interviews, some questionnaires, and then compatibility tests too. So, in the end, the contestants are set with their ideal match. With “their one” apparently. So, the unaware participants have to then get to know each other and undergo tests all while living with all of each other. And if, in the end, all eleven couples were able to figure out who they were after all eight weeks were up then they’d walk away with one million dollars and, potentially, the future love of their life.

The thought of Rafe meeting…

Naturally, you accepted the producer’s offer.

Topper, one of your best friends, even now–even after everything, told you how stupid of an idea it was to agree.

Even so, he booked his own tickets to come to Hawaii with you.

And that was how you found yourself at an insanely gorgeous resort in Oahu a month later with little to no information on what was actually going on or what would be expected of you. The only consolation was that you were far from the only ex here. It looked like every contestant had one person here for them. You were, however, one of the only… normal-seeming ones. Not for the first time since landing you cursed yourself for going along with this stupidity. Sure they wouldn’t really have another ex to call for Rafe that was actually an ex but that was their problem, not yours. Besides, if there’s one thing MTV can do it’s lie about their reality television shows. Even so, waiting in their stupid green room area altogether for whatever stupid instructions were to come next felt…well, stupid.

You heard your name called over your shoulder and you turned your head. “Hey, pretty girl. Now who is your ex again?” asked an extremely tall, well-built, and objectively gorgeous man next to you. He was grinning at you, the look in his eyes displaying an all-too-familiar attraction. But, if there was one thing you weren’t going to be doing? Fucking any of these weirdos. But, a little flirting couldn’t help. “Was it…was it Ryan?”

“So close. Rafe,” you corrected, giving him a half-smile. “It’s Alex, right? And your ex was Thalia?” He nodded. You hummed, shrugging. They’d shown you the audition videos they’d been given and Thalia seemed…interesting. “She looked super beautiful.”

“Yeah, beautiful and an absolute fucking nutcase,” he said seriously, even as he grinned. “She was always doing some dumb shit. Trying to accuse me of cheating on her when I was at work. Trying to fuck my brother when I told her that we were done.”

You let out a low whistle. “Damn, so you got a score to settle then,” you mused, leaning back in the chair to look at him. “I can respect that. I’m sure the producers love it.”

He nodded. “Oh they do,” he confirmed. He nudged your shoulder playfully and then winked. “Sorry, but I might be dragging your man down because of it. Word on the street is they’ve been paired up the past two weeks or something.” Your heart squeezed in a sad pain and you dutifully ignored it. “Don’t trip though, I’m gonna set him straight on what’s up with Thalia.”

“I don’t care,” you immediately replied, voice sharp and entirely unconvincing.

He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, sure,” he agreed, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been sitting here alone in your own little world instead of talking to all of us so I got a feeling you’re a little wrapped up in all this. And in him.” You shook your head in denial, rolling your eyes at the very true accusation. He chuckled again and this time you raised an eyebrow at him. “So what? Did y’all like break up a week before he came on or whatever?”

Clenching your jaw, you reminded yourself that this was just a stranger making conversation. There was no need to blow up on him. That was Rafe’s thing, not yours. “We broke up like a year and a half ago,” you said plainly.

“After how long?” he asked curiously.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids. We started on and off hooking up in…like high school—which our friends hated, of course. We went to separate colleges, but like…we just couldn’t stay away from each other. And by the time my senior year of college came? We were visiting each other practically every other weekend. Our friends had to inform us we’d been dating for like two years already at that point,” you said, shrugging. “But after he officially asked me and we made it exclusive…official…whatever? We were together for a little over three years.”

His nose wrinkled. “And y’all still run in the same circles and all that?” he asked, a sympathetic grimace on his face. You nodded. This time, he let out a low whistle. “Yeah, that’s fucked. Known each other your whole damn lives and he still couldn’t post up for you. That’s crazy. You’re way too beautiful to be treated like that.”

“I know,” you said dryly.

“Nah, sorry, sorry,” he said, winking. “I don’t mean it, like, to flirt with you. Promise.” You raised an eyebrow and he laughed. “Okay, only a little.” He sobered up, rubbing his hands together. “Still. Must be hard. Can’t even have that separation.”

You hummed. “No, we did. After the break up for like a month I didn’t talk to him. Avoided all our mutual friends, the whole bit. But then I remembered how much I fucking loved him regardless of our relationship. The…the issues that we had were…I didn’t leave him because I didn’t love him. I left him because I couldn’t keep enabling him. Remembered I didn’t want to lose that. So, like…I started to talk to him again. He was making genuine…good steps toward being a better man. One that he claimed would be worthy of me or whatever. But then five months ago or so he just…stopped talking altogether. Wouldn’t answer a phone call, text…nothing. So I just…took the hint. Next thing I knew I was getting a call from a fucking MTV producer. And now here I am. Talking to you.”

“You want him back?” the guy asked curiously. You glared half-heartedly at him. “No, no. I’m just asking because I fully plan to hook up with Thalia tonight, I ain’t gonna lie to you. So I’m just saying that door’s gonna be open.”

“All I want from him is to know why he went on a dating show and dragged me into it,” you corrected. He smirked at your side and you held up a hand in warning. “Don’t you say a damn word. What was I gonna do? Say no to a free Hawaiian vacation? Fuck that. I’m gonna stay here and enjoy myself.”

“Then go home to eat a metric ton of ice cream and cry, right?” he asked casually.

“Fucking Christ, dude we just met!” you said. “Why you dragging me like I’m the one dating your ex?”

He laughed. “Oh, no, baby girl, I’m gonna be dragging your ex. You? I’m just teasing,” he said.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I mean, hey, feel free,” you said, inclining your head.

That seemed to end the conversation between you both. Just in time, it seemed because a producer then came and started herding the group around like cattle. Each of the exes was briefly obsessed over by assistants who made sure our outfits—ones they chose, of course—hair and makeup were all perfect. Only when everyone was set were you approached by another production assistant.

“Alright listen up!” the stern-looking young woman called. “We’re going to be sending you out in pairs. So whoever your ex is matched with currently is who you’re going to be going out with. We’re sending you out and leaving a minute gap between to get the reactions of the contestants. The plan is to send you out in order from the newest matches to the longest matches.” She glanced down at the clipboard in her hands. “So first we have the newest match Amelia and Jacques, so…Jordan and…also Jordan line up.”

You watched as male Jordan and female Jordan stood next to each other. On and on it went. Ten couples called before you. You felt your hand trembling at your side with unexpressed emotion and you drummed at your thigh in an attempt to stop it. Ten couples called before you.

“I told you they were together, gorgeous, didn’t I?” Alex whispered in your ear as you stood side to side.

“Last couple, and the longest…Rafe and Thalia,” she said. The words stung and settled in your stomach like lead. Your feet moved you into the line at the end before she’d even finished saying yours and Alex’s name. Alex stood next to you, his hand brushing the small of your back, bringing you back down to the moment, snapping out of the distraction. “Alright. From the top. First two, my Jordans, you’re out in two minutes. I’ll be right back to get you.”

“How you feeling hearing that?” Alex whispered to you. “It’s been six weeks in that fucking house and they’ve been together like all of it. I’m fucking pissed.”

“I don’t know why I came here,” you admitted after a moment.

He barked out a laugh. “Well, too late to back out now,” he said dryly.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You folded your arms across your chest watching as the first group was taken out then the next then the next then the next. Abruptly after the last before you were taken out, you looked to Alex. “Do I look okay?

“What?” he asked, surprised.

“Do I look okay? I can’t walk out there if I don’t look okay,” you replied anxiously, wringing your hands in front of you.

He looked you up and down grinning. “You look super fucking hot. Don’t worry about that,” he said easily, slinging his arm around your shoulder, jostling you gently as if you were lifelong friends and hadn’t met two hours earlier. “Now buck up, gorgeous. We gotta get our game faces on. We gotta go.”

As if summoned by his word, the production assistant came back for you two gesturing you two out into the fray. You kept your face carefully neutral, noting Alex doing the same at your side. You exited, eyes doing anything but looking in the direction of the contestants. You moved onto the pedestal where the other exes were, Alex’s hand touching your lower back as you both moved up. You gave him a half-smile, recognizing the reflexive protective gesture. You could feel burning stares on you and you hated it. Evidently, someone didn’t like that.

Eventually, having no other choice, you turned your eyes towards the contestants. The first place your eyes fell was on a taller woman, with perfectly tanned skin, gorgeous dark hair that practically hung to her ass, and—speaking of her ass, boy did she have a good one. Thalia. You could tell because your eyes drifting just to her side was your Rafe. No. Just Rafe. Her Rafe, actually. He looked relatively at ease by his posture. But, both of them were glaring at you and Alex.

“So,” came the voice of the host. “All of the exes are here.”

MTV had managed to bag Jeff Probst of all fucking people. Appropriate, you supposed considering that the show was modeled after Survivor in that there are competitions and voting involved. Much lower stakes all around, physically at least. Everyone nodded at Jeff’s words and you couldn’t help but try to pretend you were on the Survivor jury instead of standing here in this objectively awful situation. There was a low murmur from the contestants’ side. But, on the opposite platform, everyone was silent.

“Wow…pretty silent here,” Jeff commented. “Especially considering I know how loud all of you can be on days like this.” He looked pointedly over at the contestants. “So…how are we feeling? What’s it like seeing your exes standing here looking at you as you stand next to who you hope to be your perfect match?” He made a point of looking over at us and then back to the contestants. “Thalia, why don’t you tell us how you’re doing with all this.”

The girl next to Rafe took a dramatically deep, shaky breath. You watched as Rafe’s hand moved to her back, rubbing it soothingly. He looked down at her, a soft sort of look in his eyes and you felt nauseous in a way that you didn’t expect. You carefully steadied your breathing and focused your gaze just past them. She took a moment, turning towards Rafe and murmuring something that you were sure the mic packs on them could pick up even though you couldn’t hear it. You watched as Rafe replied quietly and then pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head.

It spiked your fucking blood pressure.

“Thalia,” Jeff prompted.

“Sorry, Jeff,” she said, a sugary sweet voice watery and wavering. “It’s just…it’s hard. To see him. And to see her too, honestly. I mean…I mean knowing what he did to me. Knowing what she did to Rafe. Hell, knowing what everyone else’s exes were like too…this just…it’s awful, honestly. We’re here to try and move forward and still somehow it feels like all we’re doing is sliding back.” She fanned at her eyes.

“You seem really upset,” Jeff said, nodding. “How does it…how is it that the mere presence of your exes could cause this much stress for you? Do you not have confidence in your relationships? Do you think this is going to cause problems…have the cracks started to show?”

“Fuck no!” Thalia snapped. “I just don’t want to even see this bitch. I don’t want to see her even fucking breathe in Rafe’s direction. I don’t want her ass to even speak on him. I know that the way she treated him and it doesn’t matter how fucking pretty she is on the outside I know what an ugly, horrible, frigid ass bitch she is on this inside! I don’t need that fucking energy around and Rafe sure as shit doesn’t! It’s not my fault she fumbled and lost him! He’s a fucking catch and I’m not gonna act like I’m not glad about it. He’s my man now and she’s just gonna have to deal with it. That’s it. The end. I don’t fucking care! I don’t want to see her stupid ass face.” She scoffed. “And you know me, Jeff. I’ll fucking beat someone’s ass if they fuck with the people I love.”

You didn’t particularly care about the girl’s words. You didn’t know her. She was an attention-starved brat…or rat if you were going to give in to the more malicious thoughts in your mind. She wanted to be famous…as famous as you could get from trashy reality TV, at least. Her words didn’t matter. Rafe’s reaction certainly did though. He just clenched his jaw and looked up towards the sky and then cast his eyes down. Still, his hand stayed on her back, rubbing it soothingly. That boiled your blood, admittedly. And, it seemed that the girl’s words actually pissed off Alex more.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Thalia. God, you don’t even know her,” he said snappily.

“Oh, and you do? You don’t fucking know her or the shit she’s done. Don’t even talk to me,” she snapped back in reply.

“Just like how these people don’t know all the shit that you’ve done!” he replied. He turned his eyes to Rafe. “And you? This girl? Who you claimed to love for years and years and years and have known like your whole life, what? You’re cool with some girl you met a month ago talking like that? The fuck is wrong with you, bro?”

“Don’t fucking call me bro,” Rafe said, a lazy, hard-edged smirk on his mouth and a glint in his eyes that displayed the carefully concealed rage just beneath the surface. “And you need to watch your fucking mouth coming in here talking like that to anybody.”

“Yeah, okay,” Alex scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Jeff cleared his throat. “Emotions are already running high,” he noted. He said your name, turning all eyes towards you. “You haven’t even said a word and yet you’ve been the center of attention since you came out here. So, what’s all this like for you?”

You hated the feeling of the lights and the eyes all on you. It made you want to twitch. Instead, you kept your face in a mask and shrugged. “Don’t particularly care,” you said blandly.

“Yeah because you’re an emotionless robotic bitch,” Thalia near-yelled.

“Thalia. Let’s let her talk,” Jeff said, his words a suggestion but tone a command. He turned back towards you, gesturing at you with his hand. “Please, go on. Tell us why you decided to come if you knew something like this might happen.”

You gave Jeff a saccharine smile. “Always wanted to visit Oahu,” you said, biting back the sarcasm that threatened to overcome you. The other exes laughed in amusement and agreement at the sentiment but sobered up when Jeff called us back to order.

“Nothing else? It didn’t have anything to do with a desire for closure? To feel like you had to warn someone else about Rafe? To see how you’d measure up to this potential new perfect match he has? These are just some of the reasons that exes on past seasons have given for their appearances,” Jeff pointed out.

“Nah, definitely not for closure…I don’t think this place is where you’d get something like that. You’d kind of be an idiot to try with some people, I’m sure,” you said. Then, you shrugged. “And I have no desire to warn other people about Rafe. Everyone’s got their own red flags and no one listens to advice anyways so there’s absolutely no point.” You hummed, lips twitching up for a moment then flattening out. “And yeah, I don’t care about whatever potential little…perfect match or whatever there is. I don’t compare myself to other people, even when they apparently desperately want me to. So…yeah, Jeff. It really just is the trip to Oahu. And hey? Who else were they gonna call for Rafe?”

Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.

It was so much more than that.

You’d die before admitting it.

“Interesting,” he said. “And, not to make things uncomfortable. But let’s address the elephant in the room. You’ve looked at Rafe maybe twice since you came in here. What’s it like to be with him in a situation like this? What’s it like to have Alex next to you defend you from his own ex’s words all while Rafe doesn’t say anything?”

You let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I don’t usually stare at people, so I certainly don’t feel any sort of need to do so now. And I’m not particularly…surprised by him not defending me. It’s never been his style,” you said simply. You saw him tense slightly and roll his eyes but you ignored him wholly. You glanced over to Alex. “It was nice of Alex to defend me, I guess.” Thalia scoffed and you resisted the urge to launch yourself at her and punch her. You were better than that. You weren’t going to be the asshole here. It was going to be clear that it was her. You were determined. “But I’m a big girl. I can fight my own battles.”

Jeff nodded. “Well, you haven’t reacted to what most people here would consider a fight being brought directly in front of you. Thalia has made it extremely clear how she feels about you. She’s also made it extremely clear what the people in this house apparently think about your past relationship with Rafe. What do you say to all of that? Is that not worth fighting for?”

“That isn’t a fight,” you dismissed. “That’s people who don’t know me or the person that they’re getting…some form of information from. I don’t care how much trauma dumping you do in six weeks. You’re not gonna have a clue who you’re dealing with. I promise you that. So I don’t care what she’s saying at all—I’m never gonna have to see her again after this. I have people who care about me at home. I have people who know me. These people?” You look at all the participants and shrug. “No offense. I’m sure you’re all great in the real world. But you mean absolutely nothing to me. Your opinions mean less than nothing to me. Your opinions about me? Nothing. Your opinions about the relationship that I had with Rafe? Nothing.” You looked back to Jeff. “You want me to be honest, Jeff? I don’t think that the ‘fight’ being brought to me or whatever you wanna say is even worth this conversation.”

Jeff smiled and nodded at you. “One of the most mature responses that you could have in the face of someone being so openly hostile to you a minute after you even come out here,” he said. He looked over at Alex then. “And you, Alex? Do you feel the same?”

“Absolutely, Jeff,” he said, nodding. “I don’t know these people and I don’t care. They’re not why I’m here. But nah, unlike her I am gonna tell the facts of how Thalia is. Because I’m not cool with her walking around here acting like she’s a victim when she knows damn well she isn’t one.” He scoffed. “And knowing that she’s potentially a match with her ex or whatever? I’m sure she feels at least a little the same.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jeff coaxed.

Alex shook his head. “Just saying, Jeff,” he said vaguely. “I’m not gonna get into it yet. That’s for me and them to talk about later.” The nebulous reference clearly being either Rafe or Thalia…maybe even you. You truly didn’t care about that.

“Fair enough,” Jeff said. He clapped his hands together and turned his body towards the participants. “Now, Rafe…you’ve been very quiet so far today since you found out what was going on tonight. What’s going on in your mind?”

Rafe was silent for a moment. You watched as Thalia turned her body towards him placing her hand possessively on his stomach, stroking it as if trying to be soothing and missing the mark entirely. He didn’t spare her a glance. You could tell he was overwhelmed to some level and his brain was shutting down, only letting him focus on one thing at a time. You could see it in the slightly dazed expression and the pinched turn of his eyes.

“I don’t know Jeff. It’s always hard to see people who meant the world to you and then just…didn’t anymore,” Rafe said vaguely. You actively had to remind yourself to keep breathing evenly so your breath wouldn’t hitch in your throat at his words. “I mean, like, for all of us. These are people who were important in our lives somehow. They’re representations of problems we have in dating. All that. So yeah, it’s like seeing…I don’t know…your mistakes personified for a lot of us.”

You couldn’t help but recoil at that slightly, taking a half-step back like you took a physical blow. The words seemed to register with the rest of the crowd. Murmuring happened on both sides, some of disapproval of his words, some of approval of what he’d said. You took a deep breath, making your face neutral when you felt a girl next to you wrap her arm around your waist. You took the opportunity to use it to ground yourself, wrapping your hand around hers in turn. As much as you hated that you needed it, the support was appreciated.

“Wow,” Jeff said. He glanced at you, saying your name, and then back to Rafe. “Do you think she’s a mistake, Rafe?”

“She taught me a lot about myself,” Rafe said. “And I’ll always appreciate that. But not all relationships are supposed to last. Some of them are just to help us learn more about what we want in a relationship and nothing else.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Jeff prodded. “Do you categorize your relationship with her as a mistake?”

Rafe looked at you and you met his eye head-on, refusing to be impacted.

You could tell what the answer was going to be before he even opened his mouth.

“Yes,” he said steadily. Immediately, he looked away.

You felt like someone had reached into your chest and tore your heart out. You were suddenly glad that your hand was wound around the girl so no one would see how you were shaking. Your face you could control. Even your tears. But your hands? No. All you wanted now was to go back to your room and call Topper and tell him that you were going to crash with him in Kona sooner than you planned. Crying to your best friend for comfort was the only thing that would even potentially work. But that would have to wait until the night was over. You would be strong until then. You had to.

The muttering amongst the groups on either side grew louder once again. You kept your brain fuzzy and uninvolved, not letting yourself sink into the sticky discomfort of your feelings that would swallow you and encase you in pain like a fly in fucking amber. You couldn’t do this. Not right now.

“And how does that feel?” Jeff said, the question directed at you. “Hearing Rafe call your relationship a mistake? What’s that like for you? Do you feel it’s a fair representation of the relationship you had with him?”

You paused for a moment, looking towards the ground and then back up, a fake smile turning your lips upward. “Well, I’ve known Rafe more or less my whole life. He had a real temper on him when we were younger. So, it’s nowhere near the worst thing that Rafe has called me,” you said. “And besides, he can call me whatever he wants. It’s his right—we live in a free country, right? Whatever. I’m sure that there are things that I’d call him too if I thought it’d make me feel better.”

“And what are those?” Jeff asked, eager to hear some rebuttal from you, clearly.

“Nah. I’m not doing that,” you dismissed. “I feel no need to say that shit. It’s useless.”

Drug addict. Cokehead. Alcoholic. Asshole. Entitled. Liar. Petty. Mean. Fucking mistake. Those were just a few of the descriptors that came to mind.

“Alright. Let’s move on then,” Jeff said, neatly moving the conversation away from you, looking at the girl who had pulled you to her side in a show of support and was still. “Valeria, I see you here with your arm wrapped around her. Supporting her when you met her less than a few hours ago, really. In a show of support that, sometimes, we don’t even see from our own contestants. You hear her ex-boyfriend say something you deem hurtful and you immediately step in to be kind to her. That’s something that I doubt just anyone would do. Clearly, you’re a person who cares deeply about others. What’s it like to see Patrick, a man you loved, in a situation like this where he’s putting love and attention into others?”

“Well, Jeff. I just think it’s a shitty thing to do. You don’t talk about people you loved like that. Not if you really loved them. Because if you and your new girl or whatever are gonna gang up on her that’s fucked. So I’m gonna step in. As for Pat? He’s always been a very…free-spirited person with his affections. That was never gonna change. So…I sincerely hope he can find some form of happiness,” the girl said easily, the words falling off her tongue while she continued rubbing your back.

The conversation portion with the whole cohort of participants felt fucking endless considering you knew it would take up less than ten minutes of an episode. But, eventually, it mercifully was coming to an end. You could tell Jeff was winding it down, wrapping it up, and ready to move on. But, then he hit you with a curve ball.

“Now, for the true purpose of today: communication. You’ve all matched up for this week. You and your potential match are going to sit and spend two hours with your exes. You’re all going to have a conversation getting to know each other,” Jeff said. “Spend some time actually getting to know each other. Talk about the problems that you had in your failed relationships. Talk about the things that worked. The things that you admired.” He gestured towards Rafe. “Or the things that you feel made the relationship a mistake. This is going to be a game changer in terms of figuring out if you’re a perfect match or not. We only have two couples that you haven’t locked in yet. Just two couples you assume are perfect matches, and even them we don’t know. So? Pay attention. This could be one of the last obstacles between you and one million dollars. After that? You’ll spend an hour talking to your ex. Alone. Try to have a meaningful conversation. Then? You’re going to spend the night, all of you, all of your exes, partying poolside. Take the time then to talk to other exes of people who might otherwise be your perfect match. Make it a good night.”

Your blood felt like it had turned to ice in your veins. You had to spend an hour talking to her and to him. Well, at least you’d have Alex with you, you supposed. But, it still was terrible. This felt, frankly, like a heinous punishment that you didn’t deserve. You forced yourself to appear unmoved.

“I know we’re all excited,” Jeff said. He clapped his hands. “So let’s do this. Let’s split you all up.”

The director called cut then, and the atmosphere changed. Only slightly. The participants all relaxed marginally, posture loosening. But, the exes all remained tense. Valeria rubbed your shoulders next to you. “You okay?” she asked. “That was shitty to say.”

“I’m good,” you said, nodding. You gave her a weak smile. “Thank you though. It was super nice of you. I appreciate it.”

She nodded. “I meant what I said. No one deserves that,” she said. “Good luck with your conversations. They both seem real fucking peachy keen to be around.”

You bit back a laugh but Alex, evidently listening, didn’t bother. He laughed openly. “Yeah. Definitely gonna be a fun few hours for us for sure,” he agreed. He winked at you then. “Promise I’ll try to not fight your boy, gorgeous. But if he runs his mouth like that, I’m gonna shut him up.” He playfully tapped your chin, tilting your head up for a second. “And do shut Thalia’s shit down. She has no right to be talking. And I know she’ll just be running her fucking mouth.” You nodded jerkily, not wanting to even comment on it.

Eventually, you were all ripped apart. You were given a brief rundown of the hour and how long you’d actually have cameras on you, where they’d be, hard conversational limits, and everything in between. They set it up so that you’d be in a room with only cameras set up, not operated by cameramen. It would just be you four. God fucking help you all.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Alex said, trying to offer some form of comfort, his hands folded across his chest as he sat back on one of the couches. Rafe and Thalia were about to be brought in and you both were stressed in different ways. And all you could think about was the cameras set up around the room, recording every last piece of this.

You simply nodded, unable to speak. You felt in your bones that this was going to be absolutely fucking awful. But you’d play nice. You’d pretend you didn’t want to scream. You were surprised, however, when Thalia and Rafe entered the room. Thalia walked in, with a smile on her face, and plopped down on the couch across from Alex and you, throwing her feet up with ease. Rafe followed behind, sitting next to her, letting her practically lay over him.

It was gonna be a long fucking two hours.

An even longer night after that.

Fuck, this was a mistake.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” she demanded.

You didn’t even flinch at her harsh tone. You were working extraordinarily hard to not react with malice to her stupid words or her earlier actions. It was honestly hard. The silence on your part seemed to only serve to anger her more. You didn’t react to her anger and instead stared blankly at her. Alex, next to you, clenched and released his jaw, openly rolling his eyes at her.

“You really don’t get what’s going on here, do you?” she asked rudely. Still, you offered no response and she shook her head disdainfully at you and Alex. “I really don’t care what you and Rafe are or what you do today. You don’t mean shit to me. And at the end of the day? I know where his priorities are now. One day wouldn’t change that.” You tilted your head, still looking at her as if watching paint dry. “You’re not gonna fuck up a million dollars for the people in this house.”

Unable to help it, Alex barked out a laugh. “Fuck, they get Jeff in as a host and suddenly you think this shit actually is Survivor, huh? Fucking crazy,” he said, rolling his eyes. “None of the exes give a fuck about the people you’re with. Or your stupid ass game or any of you, actually.”

Thalia smirked at that. Your hands twitched with the urge to strike her, but you stifled it. “Oh, I definitely believe that,” she cooed, mocking.

“Thals,” Rafe said, sounding tired.

“Baby,” she said immediately, voice fake and innocent. You wanted to scream. Rafe said nothing further. Thalia set her eyes on you then. Her eyes were hard and calculating. “You especially. No one wants you here.”

You leaned back, folding your legs in front of yourself. You crossed your arms and drummed your fingers against your arm. “In what world do you think that I care what you want?” you asked dryly.

Thalia scoffed. “You’re such a cold, heartless, inconsiderate bitch,” she spat.

“Wow, those words mean so much from someone who doesn’t know me at all,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be filling some stupid little challenge now so you can try to get a million dollars for everyone in this house who probably doesn’t need it?”

“You’re just mad that you,” she tried.

“That’s where I’ll stop you,” you drawled, leaning sharply forward. “Shut the fuck up. You sure run your mouth a lot for someone who I am sure is just desperate to be painted as a victim when the editors go through and make their little arts and crafts project with their footage. And that’s all fine and well and good. Really, sweetie, oh I’ll be rooting for you. I will. But, here’s the thing. My emotions? My life? All that? Not for fucking you. And not for a fucking camera.” You gave her a cold smirk, leaning back again. “Far be it from me to make your boyfriend’s mistake worse, right? So you keep your fucking hands to yourself and you stop running your mouth like you’re hard and we won’t have a fucking problem tonight. Then? We never have to see each other again.”

“This is so fucked,” Alex said. He cleared his throat, eyes leveling on Rafe, interrupting the conversation between you and Thalia. “So, you a cheater too just like her, bro? Or are you just gonna be the next guy she tosses aside?”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Don’t fucking talk to me,” he warned.

Alex cut his eyes over to you. “See that’s why I said I’d drag your fucking ex, gorgeous. Because this guy? Something ‘bout his face just…pisses me the fuck off.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Thalia snapped.

“Thalia,” Rafe said, voice sharp. “Don’t make this harder.”

“Oh?” Thalia demanded, rounding on him. “Is this hard for you?” She was sneering at him now in a way that set your teeth on edge. Something about the way she spoke to him reminded you of Rafe’s dad. And suddenly this match made you feel physically ill in a completely different way than it had before. You looked away, hand clenching around your knees. “Well, I’m just so sorry about that, Rafe. How dare I have emotions! I really must be the issue, huh!”

You glanced over at Alex. “She talk to you like that a lot?” you asked him bluntly.

“She don’t know how to talk without being a bitch,” Alex said icily. “And evidently that hasn’t changed.” You bit your tongue to keep from saying well then neither has Rafe’s self-esteem or trauma responses. Alex snapped his head back over to the other pair. “Hey, good to know you haven’t learned how to talk to someone else if you’re so highly evolved Thalia.”

That, for whatever reason, seemed to set off the volatile girl more than she already had been. She looked about ready to launch herself at Alex. Seeming to recognize this, Rafe grabbed her arm gently as if to refocus her. It was something that he’d done to you a fair few times when you’d been together and someone had done something particularly aggravating and you needed to calm down. This proved to be a…bad move. Thalia did indeed refocus. All of her rage onto Rafe, that is. The second that you saw her slap him, though? It was your turn to see white.

You weren’t fully connected to your body as you moved, reacting to the sight. You were on your feet, physically dragging her by her stupidly long hair off of Rafe and throwing her away from him. She seemed stunned that you’d done that. She then seemed pissed you’d done that. So, naturally, her stupid self tried to rush you. Again, you pushed her back, getting closer and closer to being willing to actually hurt her.

“You wanna fucking run that again, princess?” you demanded icily. “Try to hit me, bitch. I’ll fucking hit back I promise you that.” You got closer, glowering at her, practically eye to eye. “You been fucking throwing hands at him? I know that wasn’t the first fucking time? You get off on this shit?” It had been easy to spot the punch she tried to throw. It was even easier still to deflect the punch shoving her far harder. “Try that again and I’m gonna fucking lay your ass out so help me fucking God.”

“Thalia.”

This time the word came from Alex. The word was flat and unimpressed. A quick glance over at him showed a largely disappointed look on his face. And somehow, seeing that seemed to be enough to force Thalia to get a fucking grip. She stopped, slumping back and sulked, walking over to sit down next to Alex. You watched, genuinely disgusted, as she laid her head against Alex’s shoulder and he let her. And when she burst into ugly, blubbering tears you weren’t surprised, but you were angry.

You clenched and unclenched your first three times trying to will yourself to relax some. But, nothing was working. You took a deep breath once…another…another…and another ten times still before you were able to look over at Rafe. He sat there, face pale and eyes cast down. You moved on auto-pilot, the kind of thing that used to be second nature and innate but now felt more…disjointed…forced. You laid your hand softly on his wrist so he’d notice it before moving your hand up to his shoulder. You squeezed it in a pattern of three and his head slowly moved up. He looked at you, dazed and you didn’t know if you were more angry or sad for him, really.

“Stand up,” you said quietly. He looked confused. You clarified. “You’re not staying in this room with that fucking lunatic. And Rafe…I swear to God don’t fucking argue with me on that. You’re lucky I didn’t break her fucking nose. Let’s go.”

Seemingly in a daze, he rose. You cast a look over towards Alex as Rafe followed like a shadow over to the door. You glared at the other man and he gave a half-hearted frown of apology as if he’d expected something like this to happen. That didn’t make anything better. So, you simply shook your head and turned again. You yanked the door open and let Rafe walk out first, face still drawn. You shut the door quietly behind yourself and laid your hand gently on his bicep before gesturing him down the hall. We found not a producer or even an assistant first but instead, Jeff fucking Probst who looked startled to see us.

“You’re supposed to be,” he began.

“I’m supposed to be beating a bitch’s ass for putting her fucking hands on him like some little—” you cut yourself off. You cleared your throat. “Sorry. Forgive me. Thalia fucking hit him. Doesn’t seem like it’s the first time. So if I were you? I’d go ahead and get her the fuck out of here before I call my dad who works in entertainment law and let him tear this piss-poor production apart. And feel free to tell production I said that.”

Jeff winced. “I understand,” he said. He looked at Rafe. “I’m…I’m terribly sorry that happened. That hasn’t happened before as far as I’ve been told. There are mental health staff in the bungalow attached to the house. Go there. I’ll explain everything. Some people will stop by to talk later though, I’m sure.”

“Good,” you replied sharply in place of Rafe who still wasn’t speaking.

Following Jeff’s advice, you shepherded Rafe towards that bungalow where a kind woman gestured you two in before leaving to go get some…paperwork? Who the fuck knew? Who the fuck cared? You looked over at Rafe who was still silent, face pinched. It wasn’t hard to see his leg slightly shaking and the jittering of his hands.

“I hate knowing that wasn’t the first time and that you’d deny it to protect her,” you said bitterly. “Rafe you don’t know her. And you deserve better than that. Just like you always have.”

“I don’t,” he said, his voice coming out short and quiet. “I don’t deserve anything good.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head. “Thought we’d moved past the self-deprecating bullshit,” you commented. “My mistake.” You sighed. “Rafe…your family and friends all love you still. Even now. So don’t waste…your heart on shit like this. Fuck this show. You can afford to break whatever contract you had. Hell, my dad could find a loophole and sue for you I guarantee it. But you…you can’t stay here. You…you deserve good things. And that? That…person...who they’re trying to call your perfect match?” He stayed silent. “You got matched with her because fundamentally you still find yourself in the same place that your dad wanted you to be. You think that you owe everything to everyone else and don’t want to take responsibility or…ownership over anything. For fuck’s sake, Rafe. Do you really want her to be your spokesperson? You want anyone like her to be your spokesperson?” You shook your head vehemently. “You are so much better than that. I don’t…I don’t know if you can see it. I don’t care if you can see it. But it’s true. You threw away a year of sobriety and years of building real self-confidence and not your fake bravado bullshit for this?”

“No you don’t understand,” Rafe said. “I am sober. And I didn’t want–”

The door to the bungalow opened and the woman bustled in, hands absolutely full of stuff. You rose to your feet before the woman even had to open her mouth to tell you to leave. “Cast only,” she said anyway, uselessly.

“Yeah, right,” you said dryly.

“Wait…where are you going?” Rafe asked, face breaking open into vulnerability for a moment.

“Home,” you said shortly. “Worst vacation…ever.” He looked hopelessly confused at that news. “You should call my dad, Rafe. Like now. You are not supposed to go through this shit alone. You know he’ll help you. You have his number.”

“I can’t…they…I don’t have my phone,” Rafe muttered, looking away from you.

Your eyes darkened. “Fuck’s sake these people,” you muttered. You took your phone from your pocket and called your dad before the woman across you could say a word. You gave your dad a curt explanation and he said he’d be in Hawaii in ten hours before briefly chewing you out for not saying where you were going beforehand.

“You can’t leave,” the woman said. “We need to—”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask, go through my fucking lawyer,” you said sharply, handing her your father’s business card. You glanced at Rafe. “He’ll be here in ten hours. Most likely super pissed. So…he’ll raise hell for you.”

“Are you…” Rafe trailed off. You raised an eyebrow. “Will you…stay?”

Your heart shattered and healed and shattered again in an ugly, impossible sort of way. “I…” you tried, trailing off immediately. “You…” Still no luck. Eventually, you were able to settle on, “I need to leave. I need to go home. I…I can’t fucking be here. I can’t see…this. I can’t hear…whatever you’re gonna tell my dad. I can’t see whatever footage he’s gonna have them dredge up. I need to go. Home.” You looked at him, letting out a shaky breath. “And you should consider doing the same thing. As soon as humanly possible.”

Your name spilled from his lips and it sounded so right and so wrong in that moment. “I…I’m…” he tried, voice breaking.

“No,” you denied, giving him a bitter smile. “Don’t. I don’t…I don’t want to hear it, Rafe. I really don’t. I wasn’t going to see someone hurt you. I never have. I never will. But facts are facts right?” His face fell, knowing what you meant. “And I’m a mistake. Let’s not drag it out any longer, right?” You shook your head. “Good luck, Rafe. I…wish nothing but the best for you.”

“I didn’t…” Rafe tried. “I can explain.”

“No,” you denied, holding a hand up. “I can’t do this. Not here. Not now. I’m…done with this. With all of this. Truly.” You let out a devastated-sounding, sad sort of sigh and offered an obviously fake tiny smile. “Just let me know when my dad gets here—you know he’ll forget to.” He went to speak and you held up a hand. “He’ll get your phone back if these psychos don’t give it to you by then.”

“I will,” he said immediately in reply, a sad, almost puppy-dog-like look in his eyes.

You sighed, biting back the urge to cry or scream…or anything else really. “You know what? Never mind. Call Topper. I…just…just let him know. He’ll tell me,” you said, voice going numb.

“Wait,” Rafe said, his voice shaky. “I…I want to tell you.”

“Rafe…please,” you said, giving him your best pleading look and more than willing to beg him if it meant he’d give you a break.

“I…okay. I…I’m sorry,” he said, frowning, looking genuinely remorseful.

As you started to leave, rage somehow carrying you as the influx of adrenaline faded, your name fell from Rafe’s mouth once more. You turned your head to look at him, silent and waiting. It took a few moments for him to crack. The time lingered, settling into crevices of yourself that long seemed gone—abandoned and disappeared with Rafe’s own missing presence. Yes, this was too hard already and the situation had just made it impossible.

“Get home safe,” he said, his voice breaking.

You let out a bitter laugh turning back around and heading out, refusing to turn your head. You knew that if you were to look back you’d cave immediately. And you couldn’t do that.

“You too, Rafe,” you offered blandly.

[aemondsbabe]

Hi <3 so I was rewatching episode 1 of season 2, and something I've been thinking about is Aemond's smile when he's talking to Cole about how Alicent blames him for starting the war even though she was already plotting for the throne beforehand. What's interesting to me is that I've seen people referring to his smile as mocking when in reality, to me, it looks so sorrowful. His smile on that scene looks so pained to me, the kind of smile you have when something unfair has saddened you, yet you can do nothing about it. Because right after, he speaks of how Alicent still holds love for the enemy, and he's referring to Rhaenyra, the same person who tried to have him tortured for answers the same day he lost his eye.

Idk it's just interesting to me, these subtle details about Aemond that so many people overlook and interpret in the wrong way, writing him off as uncaring when in reality I think he cares a lot. Do you have any thoughts about it?

i rewatched a clip of the scene you’re talking about and honestly I agree with your take on it!

i havent rewatched any of the episodes yet, but his smile in that instance did feel funny to me when the episode premiered. i think with everything else that went on in that one, i just never stopped to consider it lol

but like i said, i agree! i really like your take, actually. aemond doesn’t smile often, he didn’t even when he was younger, so i feel like each time he does must have some sort of deeper meaning. especially since it seems like ewan as an actor thinks things through rather methodically — i feel like he wouldn’t smile just to smile.

thinking about it in the way you describe it, it does make it incredibly sad. in the glimpses we see of his relationship with alicent before he lost his eye, it seems like they were fairly close. i mean, he came to her crying after the pink dread incident. she was also the only one visibly upset for him the night he lost his eye and the only one advocating for him.

even after aemond is aged up, they’re clearly quite close. he holds her after aegon disappears and reassures her that he’ll find him, etc. their relationship seems a lot closer than her relationship with helaena even and certainly than hers with aegon.

perhaps her blaming him for starting the war is the first time she hasn’t been on his side or the first time she’s expressed disappointment in him, etc. it’s at least significant enough of an event that he’s talking to cole about it, which makes me feel like that’s the case.

either way, that gives a lot more depth and meaning to that scene and that interaction between criston and aemond, and to his relationship with alicent!

i’m really glad you pointed this out, anon! thank you for sharing your thoughts with me!! 🩷💕

[xshingie]

Exploring The Narrative Significance of Edouard's Blue eyes

Something that piqued my interest was the fact that Annette was so insistent when she saw NightCreature!Edouard, she was so convinced it was him and she would not consider any opinion otherwise. Initially, one might think it speaks to the implicit depth of their connection that she would recognize… but perhaps, what if it speaks more to Annette might have perceived how well she /thought/ she knew him? What possibly would have occurred for Annette to retain Edouard's eyes in her memory so vividly?

This below quote from All the King's Men by Robert Penn Warren serves as the springboard for my inspiration for what eventually became my Annette/Edouard short story, Yours Truly https://archiveofourown.org/works/51906367 (I also sampled the phrasing as well):

"I suppose that that day I first saw Anne and Adam as separate, individual people, whose ways of acting were special, mysterious, and important. And perhaps, too, that day I first saw myself as a person. But that is not what I am talking about. What happened was this: I got an image in my head that never got out. We see a great many things, but that is different. We get very few of the true images in our heads of the kind I am talking about, the kind which become more and more vivid for us as if the passage of the years did not obscure their reality but, year by year, drew off another veil to expose a meaning which we had only dimly surmised at first. Very probably the last veil will not be removed, for there are not enough years, but the brightness of the image increases and our conviction increase that the brightness is meaning, or the legend of meaning, and without the image our lives would be nothing except an old piece of film rolled on a spool and thrown into a desk drawer among the unanswered letters."

I took inspiration from the concept described above: In Yours Truly, Edouard had tried to tell her something she didn't have a concept of understanding at the time. And yet, it's with narrative irony that when Annette looks into his eyes, despite color being so clear, but she couldn't really get a good "read" into him. The most we know about Edouard is through Annette's lens, and she describes him in a very romanticized, idealized manner -- which hints to me that she views him in a special way, but doesn't understand him -- not really.

This is veering into headcanon territory by this point, but a distinct vibe I picked up from Edouard is that while he is friendly and appears to be warm, kind and collegial, he seems to almost keep people an arm's length distance, revealing almost nothing (vulnerable) about himself in his interactions with others. If you look at these screencaps, his eyes are so bright, but his smile is very subdued and tight-lipped -- even his eyes don't really convey any turbulent emotions. I think Edouard might have been kept a lot to himself, which partially contributes to Annette not really understanding him on a deeper level. Hence the feeling of staring at something, which is calm, serene… but tells you nothing about the person themselves. Although it may sound romantic when I describe the feeling of looking into Edouard's eyes "as reflecting her soul like a still gemstone", what I had actually intended to convey that relationship between Annette and Edouard, while undoubtedly close and Annette grew to understand herself on a deeper because of him, this very quality actually was capped the limitation of Annette/Edouard's connection.

Edouard seems to give off a vibe that he keeps people at a certain arm's length, all the while being able to charm people (""I make them [the nobles] happy, and they lower their guard and loosen their tongues.") while keeping is own guard up, I took a lot of care to weave in in a lot of subtleties that showed both a mismatch in understanding and Edouard keeping an arm's distance. Edouard sidesteps her question and doesn't tell her who exactly who he's writing to. He brings up that everyone has their own reason for fighting, but he doesn't reveal his own. He tries to get Annette to get interested in writing, explaining letters on an abstract romantic level; he shares a personal story about his grandmother, but all Annette's response is that she doesn't understand.

What was Edouard keeping to himself, that he never shared with Annette? Perhaps he was reconciling with the inner conflicts of his mixed heritage. Perhaps he was dealing with his own demons or vices that would have condemned him to Hell to enable him to become a Night Creature in the first place.

This "image" that Annette had of Edouard's eyes in her mind, represents the image that continued to stay with her, as she gradually begins to understand what Edouard was trying to convey to her on a deeper level.

(and why yes, to write this I did spend an inordinate amount of time starting of screencaps of Edouard to try to incisively capture the vibe of what it feels like when Edouard looks at you with those gorgeous AF eyes of his lol)

A huge thank you to ladyeama/@pansexual-chocolate for being an amazing headcanon partner in all of this!

[olliandre]

Why Way didn't deserve redemption he received in the drama

While everyone is crying about Way's death, I just can't help but feel nauseous. It's upsetting how drama changed the original story, giving his character much lighter shades of gray. They excused this r*pist-to-be by changing his motives and making him less slimy.

In the novel Way wants to r*pe Babe because he gets rejected. Tries to take him by force because he's not willing. Babe himself comments that it's like Way doesn't even treat him like a real person. What Way does is not only s*xual assault, but also taking away Babe's freedom, which he considers the most important thing in his life after escaping from Tony's hands. Way tries to selfishly own him and bend him to his own will. It's not love, it's obsession and possessiveness.

Babe firmly states in the novel that he doesn't want to ever have children and that he hates them. Way, who should know him the best after all those years, reveals that he was waiting for Babe to change his mind, want to willingly have s*x with him and bear his children to start a happy family. He says that after getting to know Babe, he fell in love with him and decided not to follow Tony's orders to take Babe by force. Well, when reality turned out to be different from his expectations, he used force after all. What an angel.

Babe completely breaks down at this point, not recognizing this person who he used to call his best friend. He yells "So what?! Should I be thanking you that you generously decided not to rape me?!". And boy, he is so right. Way dehumanizes Babe, treats him like his possession. And that's not all. The reason why Babe didn't have any lover and sticked to one-night stands is Way, too. Everytime Babe got close to anyone, Way was making him anxious and insecure about the relationship. He repeated how everyone will betray him anyways, that no one can be trusted. Way brainwashed Babe into thinking he doesn't deserve love. What he did is sick and unforgivable. He doesn't deserve to be called Babe's friend.

And everyone seems to forget that in the drama Way is a manipulative b*tch, too. Is it what a friend does, lying for years and hypnotizing the other person to make them obedient? It's treating Babe like a doll. When you truly love someone, you wish the best for them, you want their happiness and to give them freedom, even if this freedom means they don't choose you. Way repeats how much he loves Babe many times, but it's a filthy and immature type of love.

The drama simplifies everything, taking out the morally difficult elements and emotional crisis that Babe goes through in the novel. I thought I'll throw up after hearing Babe say he's never been mad at Way and that he loves him. It's just... sigh, what the actual f*ck. In the novel Babe is conflicted after Way's death. He mourns him and is furious at the same time. Furious that Way decided to sacrifice himself, as if it could make Babe forgive him instantly. He considers it to be quite an audacious move. Babe is angry that by this Way tries to take away his right to be mad at him. There's a deep sadness, he's devastated, but the resentment doesn't disappear magically like it happens in the drama. Babe shouts at Way's grave that he could never love someone like him and that he'll hate him for the rest of his life, but asks him to be a good friend in the next life. That's it.

Cutting out this element flattens out Babe's character, not gonna lie. There are also other things that contribute to ruining Babe's inner depth, but this time I solely want to focus on Way. In my opinion he doesn't deserve to be so pitied by everyone.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Of all the things to come to mind, Ganondorf had not figured that a sore neck and back were going to be his biggest concerns at the moment. But as the demon king tried to shift his position lying on his side on top of the vines and plateau that had formed in his display of power, he winced a little as his muscles tightened.

For an instant, he regretted returning to his original form as soon as he had. It had certainly drained him of more energy than he’d liked. But then he looked down and sighed as his heart warmed, and perhaps he could handle the ache.

Link was asleep, snuggled against his chest and held there loosely by Ganondorf’s arm. The boy had spent the last four days wandering the Depths, and though he’d found several ruins (and collected poes, and all sorts of flora, and any shiny thing in sight as the boy was wont to do), none had resulted in discovering any more of their family.

Surely if that rat king’s subjects had buried Link in a place of honor, the Hylians would have done the same for the sages, yes? Surely if they could at least find Nabooru’s grave she could help them find where Hemisi might be? His daughter had a strong relationship with her parents, she likely would have wished to be buried close to her mother.

Link shivered a little, and Ganondorf pulled him closer for warmth. He checked in on his minions, both above and below the surface, and found there wasn’t really much activity going on. Rauru’s knight was likely asleep as well.

A smile pulled at the demon king’s lips. He wondered how that pathetic knight would fare against his boy. The knight had held up surprisingly well against the puppets he’d thrown at him in the castle. It didn’t make much difference, he supposed. He’d kill him. Perhaps he’d have Link do it. Once the knight was out of the way, the others would fall so easily it would be almost laughable.

A part of him was annoyed that his beasts hadn’t overtaken Hyrule yet. But mostly, he was happier for it. After all, he much preferred a challenge and the satisfaction that came with personally crushing his enemies into dust.

He still had time to recover the strength he lost in helping Link. It would be fine, and Hyrule would be his. His family would be his.

Ganondorf curled in on himself a bit, resting his head over Link’s. Vaguely, he noted the boy’s hair was less brittle - he supposed that meant forcing the boy to eat and drink was actually helping. Good.

Link made a soft noise, catching his attention, and the Gerudo king pulled back a hair to look the boy over. The teenager’s face was scrunched in discomfort, brow furrowing steadily. A nightmare, perhaps. Ganondorf wouldn’t usually care all that much, but goddesses if it didn’t take a near miracle to get this child to sleep. He wasn’t going to let a nightmare sabotage that.

Ganondorf ran a hand through the boy’s hair, gently pulling him to reality rather than letting the dream startle him into it. Link woke blearily, eyes barely opening in confusion, breath still a little fast but not as it could have been. With the nightmare banished, the Gerudo king held him close, kissing his head softly and whispering, “It’s all right. Go back to sleep.”

He didn’t need his magic to make the boy listen. Ganondorf knew from experience that comfort made the boy melt into submission far more than anything, at least in the half awake state he was currently in. And he didn’t mind giving it in moments like this. Link closed his eyes, sniffling a little and snuggling in closer, burying his face in the man’s tunic. Ganondorf chuckled a bit before closing his eyes to rest as well.

Someday soon, he would have everything he wanted. In the meantime, what he had now was more than enough, sore muscles and all.

[syrupsyche]

7 & 13 for the ask game?

7. Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now?

Oo this is a fascinating one. I think this one came more with age and a change in perceptions of characters but (usually older) fics that portray Cosette as this one-note, girlboss character don't really do anything for me anymore. I'm sure it was a movement to respond to the unnecessary hate around her character post-2012, and so fans would push for a Cosette that's "so much more level-headed and cooler than these stupid boys amiright haha" and she would enter a story, say something witty, and not be given any further character depth or arcs. I'm sure I've been guilty of writing and pitching ideas like this; giving flaws to female characters can be a taboo topic in fear of being misogynistic, but thats what they need to have to be actual characters! Cosette, in canon, is indeed witty, sharp, and headstrong, but she's also quite ignorant and oblivious to the realities of society (which is obviously not her fault, but it's certainly something that she lacks that can potentially be grating to others, and something to develop further on!). And while yeah, most of this criticism comes from fics that barely have her as a side character anyways so I shouldn't expect too much of a fleshed-out character, but if side characters like other Amis and male characters can have throwaway lines about their flaws and weird quirks and mannerisms etc., Cosette should have them too!

13. Unpopular opinion about XXX character?

Ahh I've done this for a few now so I'm not too sure who to pick this time.......I shall go with Valjean and state that he's not as saintly of a guy as many fans make him out to be 😔 He tries his best to be a good guy! And to be a good father!! But his trauma has so badly affected him and the relationships he forms with others and the world that he can be rather...self-absorbed in his actions. He's very self-sacrificial and by god will he sacrifice himself even if it means placing undue harm and stress upon others. We were talking about this briefly in the l'ABCD(iscord) server but like for instance, that whole Marius and Valjean shenanigan at the end was very much to do with Valjean's own insistence that he should go away as well, and insisting that Marius should promise him never to tell Cosette (and we know how important promises of loyalty is to Marius), even when Marius was ready to do so in the first place! Again, can't really fault Valjean too much for this; his circumstances were hell and this is just the tip of the iceberg of larger systems at play, but it is something we should remember about Valjean. Like Cosette, simply making him a one-note, kindly man is doing his character and trauma a disservice. There is nuance to his kindness!

Thank you for the ask!! <3 sorry I yapped so long about them but they r my favourite father-daughter pair :3

[friends-to-lovers-tournament]

Friends to Lovers Tournament: Round 2, Side B, Match 7

propaganda under the cut!

Hidekane:

"Submission 1 Let me tell you, when I say they should have been canon, they should have been canon! Let's start from the beginning, shall we? (Major spoilers for the whole series lmao)

Hide and Kaneki met as children, around the ages of 7-10. Kaneki has always been a big bookworm while Hide has always been a big extrovert. Unbeknown to anyone yet, Hide had recently lost his father and was just adopted and was having a hard time adjusting and fitting in at this new school despite his cheerful personality. He kinda just walked up to Kaneki and asked to be his friend and he said yes.

They grew up together, Hide being Kaneki's only salvation in the world as he lost his mother and was stuck in a neglectful, nearly abusive situation living with his aunt. They usually just talked about stupid stuff, but Hide's friendship meant everything to Kaneki. Eventually, they began attending the same university, Kamii. Kaneki took literature while Hide studied foreign languages, majoring in English. They were only in their first year when Kaneki was involved in an accident. In this world, creatures known as ghouls exist among humans, look and act just like them, but they eat human flesh. It's the only thing their bodies can digest, everything else tastes disgusting and makes them sick.

Kaneki went out with a girl, but found out she was actually a ghoul when she tried to eat him. He ran away into a construction zone where steel beams fell on the girl and he passed out. He was rushed to the hospital and needed a kidney transplant, but the hospital had none and so they used the girl's, or so the doctor said. In reality, the doctor transplanted the girl's kakuho, an organ unique to ghouls, into him. Slowly, Kaneki began to notice changes to his body. Food tasted gross and people started to sound appetizing (this all sounds off topic but trust me it's necessary to understand the depths of Kaneki and Hide's relationship).

While dealing with this revalation, Kaneki skipped out on quite a few days of class. Once he retuned, Hide immediately hugged him, saying that he's been lonely and that rabbits die of loneliness. Later in the day, Hide is attacked by a ghoul and knocked unconscious while Kaneki tries to fight the ghoul off. Kaneki is very weak at this point and can't do much, but tries to defend his friend until the bitter end. When it really looks like Hide is about to die and be eaten, Kaneki is able to unleash his kagune (a hunting limb/organ thing ghouls use to fight) to fight off the ghoul and save Hide. The two of them are saved and cared for, and Kaneki talks to another ghoul about how he's no longer human in the same room Hide is sleeping in but little does he know that Hide is actually awake.

They started drifting away because of this, with Kaneki wanting to keep Hide out of danger. At one point, Kaneki is kidnapped and goes missing and so Hide spends his time looking for him, tailing shady people, and joining the CCG (Comission of Counter Ghoul, aka the ghoul cops) as an intern to look for files on him. Eventually a few months later, they find each other again. Kaneki has changed a lot, having been tortured and been through a lot of other stuff. The CCG is on a mission called the Owl Execution Operation to locate and kill an extremely powerful ghoul known as the Owl with Kaneki fighting on the side of the ghouls and Hide (technically) with the CCG. Kaneki is beginning to lose his mind while struggling to regenerate a severe wound when Hide shows up. Kaneki freaks out because he doesn't want Hide to know that he's a ghoul, but Hide just pats him on the shoulder and says ""I knew all along man!"" There's a very strong CCG fighter blocking the only exit to the area and Kaneki needs to be at full strength to have a chance at winning so Hide tells Kaneki to eat him. Kaneki gives Hide one hell of a kiss, eating his lips and part of his cheek and neck.

Flash forward three/four years later, Kaneki had amnesia but regained his memories at this point. Kaneki is fighting an extremely strong adversary and is losing horribly. He is about to drown when Hide appears in his dreams. They talk about the situation, joking around a bit too. Kaneki cries, saying how much he misses him, with Hide responding ""what are you, a rabbit?"" Hide convinces Kaneki to keep fighting and not to throw his life away, saying ""it may not be stylish, but live."

Meanwhile, the real Hide has dedicated his life to finding help for Kaneki these last few years. After some really big stuff that I can't even begin to explain happens, Hide comes out from the shadows and takes the lead in helping Kaneki out of this shitshow of a situation. When one person asks ""why go this far for Ken Kaneki?"", Hide simply responds ""Because I love him.""

Submission 2

They're lifelong friends. Kaneki has a bad family history and Hide looks like a sunflower and has the personality of a golden retriever. When Kaneki gets turned into a ghoul, Hide figures it out pretty much immediately and doesn't say anything, because he's waiting for Kaneki to feel comfortable enough to confess. Even as Kaneki drifts away, Hide gets more and more involved in the world of ghouls so he can continue looking after him. At the end of the first series, Kaneki ends up starved for human flesh and on the brink of being captured. Hide, who has joined the enemy side because it's the only way to stay close, finds him in the sewers and offers himself to be eaten. Fade to black.

In the second series, when Kaneki regains his memories, he wants to die in style, like he thinks Hide did, protecting the people he loves. His hallucinations of Hide talk him out of this. He gets ghoul-married to another ghoul by leaving non-fatal bites on each other. This is relevant because Hide isn't dead; just heavily scarred (his jaw and throat are just gone, like a makeout session gone very badly), and he's been going around in disguise as a scarecrow for the past several years, manipulating things so that Kaneki will be as safe as possible.

Percabeth:

Submission 1

they are the cutest thing ever with 5 books of slow burn

Submission 2

HOW CAN YOU NOT LOVE THEM?? THEY ARE THE BEST OTP! THEY START OFF WITH UNCERTAINTIES BUT ANNABETH CHOOSES TO BE HIS FRIEND, HER FIRST INDEPENDENT STEP TO NOT CONSIDER THE OLYMPIAN'S WISHES WHEN MAKING CHOICES. SHE IGNORED HER MOM'S OPINION GUYS, THAT IS BIG! AND HE DOESNT REALLY HAVE FRIENDS UNTIL THE SUMMER HE TURNS 13 AND SHE IS ONE OF THEM. SHE AND HIM ARE ALWAYS BY EACHOTHER'S SIDES (METAPHORICALLY AT LEAST). THEY WORK TOGETHER ON QUESTS SOO WELL BECAUSE THEY KNOW EACH OTHER THAT WELL. AND SHE KISSED THEM DURING THE LABYRINTH QUEST AND HE KINDA IGNORED IT FOR LIKE A YEAR. AND SHE WAS HIS ANCHOR TO THE MORTAL WORLD. AND HE TOLD HER ABOUT HIS ACHILLES HEEL. AND SHE BACKS HIM UP ALL THE TIME. AND IT WAS THE GREATEST UNDERWATER KISS OF ALL TIME. AND WHEN HE WENT MISSING SHE DID NOT SLEEP. AND SHE WAS ALL HE REMEMBERED WHEN HERA TRIED HER SHENANIGANS. AND THEY FELL TOGETHER. AND THEY ARE EACH OTHERS BEST FRIENDS (sorry grover, but you get it) AND I LOVE THEM TOGETHER SO MUCH. THEY EMAILED EACH OTHER AT 13 BECAUSE CELL PHONES WERE A BIG N O! AND HE KEPT A PICTURE OF HER IN HIS BINDER. AND SHE WANTS TO BUILD SOMETHING PERMANENT WITH HIM.

[starlightiing]

Hi again! Thank you for your in depth answer about Esteban yesterday, I appreciate it! I've fallen down a rabbit hole of watching videos and interviews, thank you for also linking a few! It has definitely been an interesting ride so far!

What I've seen and comes shining through from your answer as well, in regards of his relationship with his parents, is a very determined but also humble appearing man as a character. From the public point of view that we have, it's very fascinating to see how Esteban seems to genuinely care about fans, workers and those that even dislike him. I have seen that clip you talk about with the person meeting him, telling him they didn't like him before and him going to question it in this "but why??" way of rooting us back in reality of some sort, like he's aware of how he's perceived, accepted it (or not necessarily accepted it - I have read his instagram statement about the recent hate, which is also led me to questioning stuff again) and just tries to make the best of his shot at the game that is f1.

I've never did as much of a deep dive on him, just always accepting he's kind of there ... you know.

I guess it's also an indication his character as a whole that he continued being friends with Stroll after being replaced by him, I had never really thought about that but it does make me think Esteban is holding people dear to his heart in a somewhat unconditional way. I think (atp I've seen a whole lot, my word) I've seen him say something along the lines of "there is the racing and there is our friendship" which is interesting because he is often portrayed, imo, as someone that just stubbornly and uncaringly pushes ahead, fuelled by his background that surprisingly often gets told in a negative tone. But this is another example of him actually being able to emotionally separate his career low from his friendship.

Oh god I feel like I'm writing a whole essay in your inbox, I better wrap this up...

Thank you again, you really started a deep dive evening for me yesterday! There's much to consider still but he's made himself more likeable to me with the gentle help of your words too.

Oh, anon, this message really warms my heart! I am so happy to hear that you've been able to find some positives about him and some reasons to potentially like him in the future. Again, if you don't end up liking him, that's okay. At least you gave him a chance instead of just following the pack. Huge kudos to you for that!

Yes, his friendship with Lance is a huge deal considering he lost his seat to him simply because of money and Lance's dad buying the team, therefore the spot. He's made his comments about it but he never held it against Lance which is pretty incredible. I think he's a big boy who realizes what the world of F1 really is: cold, heartless, strictly business. And he's always respected that even though he has worked through so much to get here and stay here.

There was a quote from him I saw recently where he talked about crying when he lost that seat and it being the lowest point in his career, but now that he's been back in F1 he is "always happy" because he is just grateful to be here. That's why he is always smiling, so he says 😊

He also very frequently talks about all drivers deserving respect because of what they go through to be doing this. The training, the pleasures they give up, the privacy they give up, the pressure, everything they deal with in the car, ect. Regardless of how he feels about any of them personally, he begs everyone to respect them all at the very least for what they do.

People do see his style of racing and label him as aggressive, stubborn, an asshole, ect. Some people even take it as far as ripping apart his personal character and then even getting quite racist which is just disgusting. It's not surprising, but it's very disappointing. The sort of attacks he gets are incredibly unwarranted and disgusting and not a single person in this world ever stands up for him. He hardly ever stands up for himself. Like, almost never. The statement post Monaco was more than I thought we would get from him to defend himself which means he got worse shit than even I saw. He usually just let's people think what they think and keep on going, but it was bad enough that it struck his heart and he couldn't, and it really broke my heart and made me so sick for him.

Esteban is very lovely to his fans. One of the best on the whole grid imo. He's also a fucking nerd. He has yapping disease, he bounces on his feet when he's excited or in anticipation. He loves Spiderman and Marvel (and killed it on a grill the grid sort of challenge recently that asked him all Marvel questions). Hes very different in the car vs out of the car. But in so many ways he is also the same. I think his heart is very prominent in everything he does.

Again, he is definitely not perfect, but nobody is. I'm glad you've been enjoying your deep dive and I would love to hear from you again in the future as you continue down! It's lovely to hear your insight and always feel free to share videos and such with me as well. I personally love the video of him and Pierre eating the British snacks, I think it puts both of them in a really silly, sweet light and it makes my heart happy. I would highly recommend that one as well.

Actually, here you go! I hope you enjoy and hope to hear from you soon. Thank you so much for following up!!! 🩷 🩷

https://youtu.be/MraYxamdByM?si=Io9UScgBeWeiNEw1

[sapphire-weapon]

my question wasn't meant to be seen as fuel for ship wars; it really, really 100% was just out of actual curiousity. And literally the reason why i chose you to ask was because I only want to hear an opinion from a non-aeon because if i chose an aeon they wouldn't give me an actual valid or constructive answer; they would just scream AEON CANON AEON ENDGAME at my face and I don't like that.

I trusted you because you literally are the only aeon hater that can go in depth about Aeon. That's fucking impressive. I believe most Aeon shippers can't even write about that ship the way you do.

Hence why I asked you those questions. Your thoughts are valid as fuck

hello again, friend.

you still seem to be having issues with reading my linked post. let me try a more focused approach to helping you.

do you know what i found in my ada wong tag?

the answer to the helicopter question

a direct comparison of just how much their relationship has changed between OG and remake

the answer to the smirk question

and there's even more good things in there for you to find. in fact, i may have answered questions that you've never even thought to ask before.

i'm so tired of answering the same questions over

and over

and over

and over

and over again.

because these questions are predicated on pro-aeon propaganda to begin with. it's like you guys see them say this out in the wild and your brain just fucking short circuits and you forget how to have a rational fucking thought.

a smirk is a romance? a pause in a scene is a romance? what the fuck are we doing here, bro? if you tried to claim a ship was canon due to one smirk and one stare in any other series, you would get laughed out of the fucking fandom. it's pure absurdism. it's an outrageous claim, and i don't know how it's been accepted as the default. it's maybe the dumbest fucking "ship is canon" argument i have ever heard in my fucking life.

take two seconds to rub your braincells together, please. reality misses you. all of you. come back to rationality and the actual universe that we're all currently living in, please.

[gracemarkss]

finished s4 in my txf rewatch so i'm here's my top 10 so far. these are vaguely in order.

10. oubliette (s3ep08). this episode gives us soooo much big brother mulder. his gentle insistence that lucy, despite everything she's been through, is strong and capable and has value - that she can save this girl (and he's right). when scully calls him out on his overidentifying with lucy and he insists not everything he does or feels goes back to samantha...but when lucy dies, you know he's losing sam all over again. he can't save them all, he can't even save most of them, but by god does he try.

9. memento mori (s4ep14). cliche as hell but the fact that it opens with scully's sensual voice over reading her romantic diary entries which are addressed to mulder...insane. both of them facing a terrible reality, deep seated fears - losing her and abandoning him (is dying a betrayal?) the fact that he's ready to make a deal with the devil. the fact that skinner DOES. death vs love, fight!!!!!

8. beyond the sea (s1ep13). gillian is insaaaaane in the episode like how could anyone involved in this show not think she was capable of anything and everything? scully is such a great character in part because of the constant tension that exists between expectation and desire. the things she should want, the things she wants to want, the things she actually wants. she craves her father's approval while chafing against the weight of his expectation. the "i love this job" "you love your father" exchange goes craaaaaazy. and that's not even getting into the role reversal!!!!

7. pusher (s3ep17). another cliche but god does this episode go hard. another spectacular look into mulder's psyche and another situation that highlights the depth of their connection. when he kneels down in front of her and hands her his gun...i wonder how many times mulder walks into a situation and thinks that maybe he'll die. that maybe he wouldn't mind. i wonder how much scully knows that (her fear here makes me think she knows, and it terrifies her.) but all's well that ends well i guess (them holding hands).

6. end game (s2ep17). i just love that the narrative forces mulder to choose between samantha and scully and he tries to rig the game to save both. from "nothing else matters to me" to if anything happens to scully i'll kill everyone in this room and then myself. there's obviously a lot more going on here and i love all of it but that's my main takeaway. oh also dd rules in this ep. his regression back into a lost little boy saying "i'm sorry, dad," bill mulder you are bones.

5. wetwired (s3ep23). another classic "what are you afraid of" episode and this time the answer is "the prophet you are following turns out to be false." trust is their most valuable and sacred currency. the potential loss of that is truly devastating. let's not even get into the fact that mulder thinks scully's gone missing (again) and it's his fault (again) and he has to break this to her mother (again) and let's not talk about the fact that maggie defends mulder to scully and trusts him with her daughter's life despite everything. and let's definitely not ever mention the scene where he goes to id the body.

4. paper hearts (s4ep10). yet another cliche but there's a reason these episodes are well loved and considered among the best. "it's somebody though" just sums up everything you need to know about mulder. he is so deeply hurt and so good despite it all. he really is the best boy. another ep dd is superb in.

3. demons (s4ep23). part of the reason i love this episode is just because i think the premise of mulder drilling a hole in his head and injecting ketamine in it is hilarious. but also profoundly sad. can you tell i have a thing for mulder angst yet? and episodes that highlight how deep and loving his and scully's relationship is, however you interpret it? she's the first one he thinks of to call when he wakes up in a bad situation. she drops everything to be there for him. she won't stop him, she'll just take the keys and drive. what can i carry for you. what can i do. i will not let you go alone. another great example of dd's ability to play mulder at his smallest - when he tells his mother he needs to speak with her with his head down and his voice pitched just a bit higher...i'll jump.

2. ice (s1ep08). truly what needs to be said. i know this is a ripoff of the thing but i've never seen the thing so this is better probably. stuck in a small space, paranoia at the top of the world...also the guy who plays the landlord in new girl is here and i love that. both dd and ga are also both crazy hot in the ep. i think it just rules even as a standalone and is a great way to introduce someone to the series. just fun and sexy and tense.

3 (s2ep07). HE'S WEARING HER NECKLACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

honorable mentions: lazarus (s1ep15); darkness falls (s1ep20); little green men (s2ep01); the field where i died (s4ep05); grotesque (s3ep14); terma (s4ep9).

[treeofnonsense]

Jodybeth

2. What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

3. Do they wear the other's clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

4. Which one is more protective? Who needs to be 'protected'?

32. Who's the better story teller?

33. Who's the better cook?

47. Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship?

48. Who's the better driver?

49. Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other?

2. What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Post-nightmare Corona is mostly just tears and lonely desperation. All Judith has to do is let herself be squeezed and cried on for a little bit while she promises never to leave Corona alone, exactly like that birthday party so many years ago. Her stoic demeanor is strangely comforting, and this works wonders.

Post-nightmare Judith is actually kind of dangerous, when you combine Varun's influence, her combat instincts, and the Second House necromantic trademark of draining people. She tends to lash out at anyone in her vicinity out of panic. Despite Judith's assertions to the contrary, Corona refuses to leave her alone during these times and has instead developed the patented technique of just throwing a blanket over her so she can't fight back, and then using her superior size to make a Jody burrito.

Judith mostly hates that this works.

3. Do they wear the other's clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Corona certainly tries, and has probably stretched out quite a few of Judith's outfits by now.

4. Which one is more protective? Who needs to be 'protected?'

Judith loves to think she's the tough protective soldier, and Corona is very willing to let her think this if it means she gets attention. In reality though, we all know who kept Judith alive through their time in Blood of Eden.

32. Who's the better storyteller?

Honestly? Neither of them. Judith speaks everything like she's writing a military document and bores people to death. Coronabeth gets too excited, finds herself lost on a tangent, and never gets to the point. They're actually most successful together, with Judith narrating and Corona popping in every so often to elaborate (it's mostly all true additions).

33. Who's the better cook?

Again, nobody. Judith's taste is horribly skewed by all her time in the military, and because she'll accept just about anything as food she's never bothered to learn to make things taste good. Meanwhile, Corona had Babs and servants to wait on her her entire life and would probably burn the kitchen down trying. She's probably the most likely to learn though, if only out of desperation.

47. Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin the entire relationship?

Actually probably not... but they sure as hell THINK they do. Judith, of course, is dead certain that confessing her terrible blasphemous feelings about her dead cavalier would run Coronabeth off, especially in a scenario where Coronabeth herself becomes her new cavalier. Corona would honestly not give a shit about the impropriety of Judith's old crush; that's pennies to the Third House. She'd probably think it's good drama.

When everyone thought Corona was a necromancer, she feared that revealing she wasn't one would make Judith even more uninterested and unimpressed with her. Now that that's out in the open, she thinks the true depth of her feelings for Ianthe might do it. She figures that as uptight and military as Judith is, she'd be furious if she knew Corona would absolutely turn traitor to whatever side Ianthe's on. Honestly Judith probably would be furious... but I don't think it's ever going to be enough to make her stop being in love, and I also think that Judith probably already knows. She saw them both at every birthday party. They're not subtle. Judith knows there's something going on, even if she'd probably rather not think about the details, but her self-loathing conclusion was that of course Corona would pick literally anyone over her, and of course she's not strong enough to stop loving her despite it.

They have secrets that would make each other furious. But I really don't think there's anything that could make one or the other truly cut that tie that keeps pulling them together, despite how much they might claim to want to.

48. Who's the better driver?

Of ships and shuttles? That would be Captain Deuteros. Of cars? Corona, who learned with Blood of Eden - though that doesn't mean much, since she's a terrifying driver.

49. Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other?

She went out for groceries.

I am fully onboard with clingy, needy Corona, especially in any post-canon universe where Ianthe is dead. Judith handles herself pretty well on her own, though she struggles somewhat with her injuries and she'll drop back into her own self-loathing, repressive, asshole instincts without Corona there to ground her a little.