#but the thought helped a lot with my writing block these past few weeks

[llondonfog]

diasomnia month // prompt 10 — rain

The weather of Briar Valley has always been harsh, perhaps more in tune with their draconian rulers than nature itself, but this rainstorm seems to take exceptional delight in its cruelty.

It hammers with a vengeance against Lilia's armor, soaking the already stained arachne-spun garments beneath into a gruesome slurry of sweat and blood that splatters to the crushed foliage below— though none his own.

"A healer to me, NOW!"

The roar of his own voice breaking across the relentless thunder of the rain and cacophony of scrambling soldiers hardly sounds familiar; there is an undercurrent of true fear like the bloated, dark bellies of the clouds above them, roiling and ready to release. There is no time to be grateful that the din of the storm itself drowns out his weakness, but there is no time for anything at all as the seconds tick down with every passing moment that the boy collapsed in his arms heaves blood over Lilia's trembling hands.

"You foolish, fucking child!"

It is easier to be incandescent with anger, to reach into that raw, bubbling rage inside of himself rather than expose his heart for what it has become. It is easier to hurl curses at that wretched human as the boy blinks unfocused eyes up at Lilia's face as if to focus on the moon itself, his gloved hands slipping and sliding over the ragged hole pierced through his stomach like that might keep his organs inside.

"I could have easily dodged that blow, I did not ask for you to defend me like some hapless fledgling!"

His voice is rising to strange, new octaves as the rain saps the already pallid color from the human child's face, streaking down his cheeks and plastering his bangs to his skin— Lilia finds himself struck with the bizarre desire to brush them away if he were not bleeding out in his very arms. There's absolutely no remorse or shame in that disgustingly honest face, and Lilia's heart all but twists itself into oblivion as the boy chokes out "Father—" as if in prayer, as if to summon the man himself to save him from his fate.

"BAUL, A HEALER TO ME, NOW!"

[coco-loco-nut]

007

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: meeting your soulmate in the paddock isn’t unusual for F1 drivers, but oscar’s certainly leans on the unusual side

a/n: sorry if it’s a bit of the mess! i’ve been trying to write my way out of writers block

masterlist part two requests open

_____________

You are crazy, you have to be. At least, that’s what Oscar thought when he watched the mark on his arm change for the third time that day. You put yourself in more danger than he does, and that says a lot. It wasn’t always that way, not until five years ago when it became more and more frequent. The shared talent he gets from you is no help. Analytical and multilingual, you could be anyone. Based on how often you are in danger for long stretches, he is a little sure that you are a mobster. Being able to speak Russian and Italian fluently doesn’t help with the whole mobster thing.

You didn’t know what to think of your soulmate. At first you assumed he was a criminal, the meter on your arm only shifting to danger for a relatively short period of time for a few weeks. However, it has become regular, throwing you off. Maybe a weekend adrenaline junkie? No, probably organized crime. Besides, you are skilled at driving fast, and what adrenaline junkie has a talent for fast driving.

“We have intel that there will be a deal made at the Belgian Grand Prix. Both parties are guests of Sauber as to not draw suspicion. Everything you will need is in this file, a car will pick you up tonight, good luck,” you anxiously sit through your briefing.

You have been tracking a crime ring for the past year and a half, putting yourself in all kinds of compromising positions just to get information. Formula One though, that’s new to you. You have seen some things from former partners who followed it, but you weren’t interested.

It isn’t uncommon for crime groups to use large events for “networking.” It is under the guise of their shell companies. You studied your character ruthlessly, knowing your cover inside and out.

The race approached much quicker than you’d like. The situation isn’t helped by a weird feeling in your stomach. Not nerves, but something else. You shake it off, the mission is what is important. The paddock awaits, and you have a limited striking time.

Oscar was on edge. Something felt off, even though he went through his race routine like always. He did have a questionable pastry, but there wasn’t any mold, so it was okay. He slides his sleeve up, looking at the meter on his arm. Lando doesn’t miss how his teammate’s face paled.

“You okay?” Lando asks, trying to catch a glimpse of the meter on Oscar’s arm.

“Yeah, just realized I forgot to call my sister,” Oscar lies. He’s a little scared for the day he meets you. What kind of mobster commits crime on a Sunday? Maybe you got taken by an enemy, got caught sneaking around. Logan always told him that he was crazy for assuming his soulmate is a criminal, but all signs point to it. Some fresh air is what he needs.

“Why don’t we take a walk?” your target says as you flash a charming smile, anything to get information. It helps that the conversation is in Russian, adding to confidentiality of everything.

You feel a deep pull, like a yearning, as you agree to the walk. You brush it off, the mission is top priority.

“Can you provide some more benefits of the… investment,” you are a little unsure of what to call it. You are keenly aware of the weapons strapped to the side of your target. You weren’t expecting to be meeting with an enforcer, making the job trickier.

“Perhaps. I will if you can answer this question,” you feel your anxiety spike as you keep a calm and cool demeanor. The pull increases and it takes every ounce of will to keep yourself focused. You got most of the information you need, but you need to fish for more. You don’t really notice the target turning you into a quieter part of the paddock.

Oscar lets his feet lead the way, a little out of it. He doesn’t really notice you ahead, tucked in a relatively secluded alley of the paddock. He’s always been able to sneak around, a blessing in times like this.

“Who invited you to the meeting,” he asks, and you internally breathe a sigh of relief. Your team scanned through the information to make sure there was nothing included to trip you up, and this is something that was deemed clear.

“Peter,” you say a little too confidently, and that’s when you notice him reach for the knife on his side. You also notice the civilian looking at his soulmate meter rather than where he is walking, and at that moment it spikes further into the danger. The brief distraction is enough to put you at a disadvantage. You shove the stranger behind you, getting him out of the way as you. Sparks fly as you touch him, but you don’t pay any mind to it. Eyes trained on the target, you do everything you can to avoid being stabbed as you pull out your own knife.

Oscar feels a twinge on his arm and slides up the sleeve, looking at his mark. He feels himself get yanked, and he turns his attention to the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He takes a few steps back into safety and watches. Every alarm bell in his mind tells him to run away, but he can’t seem to walk away.

You kick the knife away, quickly working to disarm the target and press him against a wall, your own knife to his throat. You subtly activate your tracker, getting discreet backup.

“Tell me who runs the operation. Now.” you snarl in Russian, slightly putting pressure on his neck with the knife. The target spits beside you, you press further. “I recommend you don’t mess with me if you want to be alive.”

The information you want comes flowing out as you take a little pleasure at the fear in his eyes.

“There, happy? Let me go,” the target says and you smile wickedly. Dropping your act now would only hurt you, so you let him think you are part of a rival crime ring.

“Not quite,” you flip him around so he is facing the wall. You sheathe the knife, using your weight to brace him to the wall. “It’s a shame I couldn’t spill some blood, oh well,” you play your role, speaking in a bored yet maniacal tone. Your backup arrives and takes over for you, arresting the target.

As the adrenaline fades, you remember the guy lurking behind you. You feel the heat of anger flare up. Couldn’t he see you were dealing with something dangerous? Why wouldn’t he turn around and walk away.

Oscar can’t help but feel happy that he finally has your attention, and if the pull he feels and the danger levels that his arm displays is any indication, he just met his soulmate. Plus, you speak multiple languages, who else would he get that from that’s in the immediate vicinity. He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“Are you stupid! What are you doing walking in on that? And sticking around? That was a very dangerous situation, you know,” you fume, not looking at him, too busy firing off angry texts to your commander.

“I was right, my soulmate is a criminal,” Oscar says, a little shocked.

“That guy was your soulmate? Tough luck,” you can’t help but laugh a little. You look at him for the first time and feel your heart beat quicken as every instinct is drawn to him.

“No, you are,” Oscar says as your eyebrow quirks, as if you don’t believe him. And you don’t believe him, it isn’t in your nature.

“Well, I’m not a criminal. Sorry to break it to you. Besides, I know that my soulmate is a criminal, so unless you have a dark side, you aren’t him,” you brush it off, still ignoring the intense pull towards the brunette who is creeping closer to you.

“But-“

“Look, I gotta go,” you quickly take a once over of him, ready to look him up when you are back to safety. You disappear almost into thin air, leaving Oscar confused.

“Oscar? What are you doing here? Is that blood?” Logan stares at his friend.

“I think I just met my soulmate,” Oscar says, a little flabbergasted. Now he knows where his talent for being stealthy comes from. He wonders if you got his driving ability.

“Right. That doesn’t explain blood. You know what, you need to get ready for the drivers parade,” Logan shakes his head, helping his friend get back on track.

Oscar Piastri. That’s who Google tells you that you encountered. He’s handsome, you will admit that. A quick research tells you everything you need. Your soulmate, in fact, was not a criminal. A minor win in your mind.

After your paperwork and evidence submission, you know you can’t return to Sauber, so you choose to walk around instead. A change of clothes and hairstyles helps to hide your identity.

You easily slip into the McLaren motorhome, it is a little sad how easily you have gotten past Formula One’s security. You wait in Oscar’s drivers room for him, feeling uncomfortable and nervous. You don’t like the feeling.

Your job is too dangerous for a soulmate, you’ve seen how devastating it is for those whose soulmate never returns from a mission. You couldn’t do that to someone, so why do you find yourself needing to see Oscar again.

Oscar feels the now familiar tug as he gets out of his car, and he’s never been happier to get P4. He makes his way to his room as quickly as possible, rush in through his post-race procedures.

“You’re here. How are you here?” Oscar sees you leaning against the wall of his drivers room.

“It is embarrassing how easily I can get past the security here,” you have a hint of a smile on your face.

“So, if you aren’t a criminal, who are you?” Oscar swallows, a little nervous. His only knowledge of you is that you are highly dangerous and semifrequently in danger.

“I can’t tell you that. Brilliant race today, maybe I will actually watch one for once,” you walk towards him, and he feels his heart leap in his chest. You slip a card into his hand as you head to the door. “Oh, and thanks for the driving skills. It’s gotten me out of quite a few situations,” you smirk, disappearing once again. Oscar looks down at the card in his hand.

Y/n L/n. Special Services.

In neat penmanship you wrote down a series of numbers, and a note to burn the card after saving the number. Oscar races to the window that overlooks the only exit of the building, but you had already disappeared into the crowd.

[unangelic-thoughts]

Imagine this: jealous! rafe when you’re ward's personal assistant

[A few notes: 1. Rose doesn't exist in this AU. 2. This is a really rough draft, literally just wrote it and posted it so haven't had a chance to proof read it but I was honestly so desperate that I just had to write somethinggg 3. I hope you can pleasurably indulge in the same way I just did imagining this? :)) <33 love y'all with the same filthy minds as mine)] *spoiler alert* you fuck them both xoxo

you've been spending a lot of time with ward, working from the office and his home since you got the job as his personal assistant nine months ago

he's always made it clear that you're welcome to help yourself with anything in the kitchen or have a dip in the pool

one hot day you decide to take advantage of that and bring your swimsuit to his house

after finishing up on important but boring paperwork, you ask if you can take a dip and ward is more than happy about it

you swim as he sits at the edge of the lounger, talking to you about the new partnership deal he's working on

you notice the way his eyes flick down to your breasts, it makes you feel good, he's a handsome man after all

you plead with him to join you in the water, but he declines despite the evident want in his eyes so you splash him, egging him on

the glass doors swing open and out comes rafe, his arm around a pretty girl's shoulders

he's surprised to see you, especially with so much of skin on show and with his dad right there as if this is a completely normal and professional occurence

but then again, since when has his dad ever cared about professionalism anyway?

he only looks at you once, making a point to not let his eyes wander to you again

you watch as him and his dad make small talk and then him and his girlfriend(?) are gone

unbeknownst to you, rafe heads to his room and peeks at you through his blinds

he watches as you step out of the pool, water dripping down your breasts and thighs, it gets him real hard

that is until ward wraps a towel around you, his fingers caressing your shoulder and all rafe wants to do is yell at him to not touch you

you can feel someone's stare but as you look up to where you think it's coming from, he swiftly steps away and walks up to the girl he brought home, eva, and kisses her fiercely - wanting to block out any thoughts of you

at the company event, a week later, he doesn't fail to notice his dad's hand on your lower back or the way he leans a bit too close to you when you talk

it infuriates him every time you direct that sweet smile of yours towards ward. that should only be for him, no one else and especially not his dad

he corners you later that night as you walk out of the bathroom stall

it takes you by surprise, his broad chest right up against you as he looks down at you

"you should be more careful" he says

"careful?" you frown in confusion

"of my dad. he's not a good man" his hands rest on his hips

you stare up at him with doe eyes, a chuckle escaping your lips "oh really?"

"he's dangerous. a pretty, innocent girl like you shoudn't be getting involved with men like him" rafe looks you up and down, taking in the shortness of your dress

"and what type of men do you think I should be involved with?" you ask, a smirk on your lips

he raises an eyebrow as if to say 'isn't it obvious?'

at that, you laugh and roll your eyes

"you know, people would say that you're the dangerous one" you state honestly

his right hand reaches up to stroke your cheek "not with you. i would protect you from anything bad"

"that's really sweet of you" you say sarcastically

"but i don't need protecting" you shove him and walk past him to join the others outside

unfortunately for rafe, seeing him so jealous of you and his dad only makes you want to provoke him further

so you do what any other innocent girl would do

you get his dad to fuck you on rafe's bed just as he comes home from his late night gym session

ward is ecstatic about it, because 1) he's wanted to shove his cock inside you from the moment he saw you in that tiny bikini and 2) he knows that him and rafe have grown apart and what better way to bond than getting to share the same hole?

you're on all fours, your hands fisting rafe's fresh bed sheets as ward pounds you from behind

rafe walks in and as soon as his gaze lands on the two of you, he drops his gym bag on the floor with a thud

you and ward both turn to look at him, continuing to fuck as if there's been no interruption at all

rafe is absolutely seething with anger "what.the.actual.fuck?" he asks through clenched teeth

"hey son! are you joining in?" ward asks in the same way he would ask him if he wanted to play golf

"a-are you fucking kidding me right now?" his hands are fisted into balls. if this were a cartoon, he'd have smoke coming off his head

"i'm really not. as the saying goes, sharing is caring. what's mine is yours, son" his dad replies with a sweet smile on his lips

rafe's cold gaze turns to you then "and you're okay with this?"

you nod innocently at the same time as ward says "it was her idea in the first place"

rafe stands by his door in shock but you're staring to lose your patience

"rafey, baby, can i please have your cock? please?" you plead just as ward hits your sweet spot and you gasp in pleasure

he fucks you harder as you stare into rafe's blown pupils before involuntarily shutting your eyes, feeling yourself reaching closer to your orgasm

a moment later rafe's ripped all of his clothes off and lays on his back on the bed next to you

you open your eyes when he forcefully grabs your arm so that you're now straddling his lap, causing his dad's cock to slip out of you

you don't get to miss the sensation for long however, because rafe brutally shoves his girthy shaft inside your swollen pussy

your hands go onto his chest to steady yourself, feeling his defined pectorals

ward spits on your ass and slowly buries his dick inside your second hole

it makes you want to scream, but you bite down hard on your lower lip

they thrust into you in unison, you have never felt this full, never felt this kind of bliss

rafe takes your tits in his hands, then brings each nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking them with his tongue

you're so close, so so close

tears fall down your face at the overwhelming sensations in your body caused by the two men

rafe notices, looking concerned and asks if you're okay as his hands cup your face

you nod, "just keep fucking me, please. don't stop"

relief washes over his face and he kisses you deeply but softly, a complete contrast to how he's splitting you open

you kiss him back, your tongues dancing together

ward places two digits on your clit, it makes you whimper in rafe's mouth

and as they both frantically slam into you with their hands all over your body, you come completely undone

your body convulses between them and your legs begin to tremble

you're soon overstimulated by it all but they keep going

they thrust in and out, in and out, as you squirm, completely trapped between their two bodies

before you can register any of it, warm cum fills up both of your holes at the same time

they grunt in unison and you ponder at how similar father and son really are

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

helloooo hiiii haii hiii

do you think you could write a fic (duff x reader) w duff being a big softie w his s/o and taking extra care of them while they’re going through a little depressive episode, just making sure they’re taking care of themself and giving em gentle cuddles and reassurance n fluffy shit? that would be super sweet <3

Warnings: Depression, idk it's mostly fluff but if you think I missed something let me know otherwise enjoy!

You honestly never saw it coming, but Duff did.

You felt yourself getting more tired more easily but just chalked it up to not getting enough sleep, you stopped eating and also thought it was just from not getting enough sleep.

Soon you were laying in bed, it was almost 3:00 pm and you hadn't moved since you woke up.

The phone was ringing every hour but you never answered, then it was every half hour, every fifteen minutes. Duff was calling you like his life depended on it.

The past few weeks he'd been listening to you complain about hurting and being tired and this, that and the other thing. He knew what was happening but you didn't.

He'd been taking you out more, dinners every other night -at first he tried taking you to restaurants but then you started saying no, not having the energy to go out. He'd come by and help with things around your apartment, washing the dishes, doing laundry.

He always tried to include you in these activities but at some point you just stopped answering to him.

You heard a knock on your door but didn't want to answer it, you didn't want to get up. It took you too long to realize what was happening and now you were just blocking everyone out.

The door opened and you knew it was Duff, you'd given him a key the last time this happened for when it happened again. This was again and he came right to your room with take-out from your favourite fast food place.

He sat next to you on your bed. He didn't wait for you to turn to him, he wrapped his arms around you, under your arms, and pulled you up. Your body slumped against him but it was better than laying down. Small victories.

He opened up the food and helped you eat, holding it to your mouth and waiting for you to take a bite. "Eat." He said. "Eat it or I'm painting your face with it." You shot him a look but took a bite, a small bite but a bite nonetheless. "Good, keep eating."

After the first bite you wanted more. You didn't feel like doing much but it was still your favourite food, you couldn't turn down your favourite food.

He stuck with you, he didn't push you to do a whole lot. He made you change your clothes and move to the couch while he took care of some cleaning.

You were laying on the couch on top of him, nuzzling into him as you watched a movie.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, occasionally kissing the top of your head or your forehead, your temple.

"Guns is going on tour." He said, running his fingers through your hair.

You nodded. "I know."

"I know you know." You looked up at him, resting your chin on his chest. "I want you to come with me." Your brows raised at that.

You'd never gone on tour with him before, it was never even a question more of just 'I'm going' 'call me every day?' and it worked fine for the both of you.

"You... want me to come?" You asked hesitantly. "What about, like, groupies?" He gave you a look.

"Groupies, seriously? I have you and I want you on tour with me, in my hotel room, in my bed, in my arms." He stated, giving you a gentle squeeze. "There's no reason you can't come, you're coming."

"I have work."

"Quit."

"I can't just quit, Duff!" You groaned, swatting his chest. He smiled. It wasn't a lot but it was a glimpse at your usual self.

"You don't need your job, you have me." In fairness, you don't know why you don't already live with Duff, very rarely are you separated, usually only tours stand in your way.

You laid your head back down on his chest. "I can't quit."

Duff let out a heavy breath. "Quit or don't quit, you're coming with me and that's final."

For the next week Duff stuck with you, every day encouraging you to do a little more. He helped you shower, starting with warm bubble baths, lit candles around, when you got in the shower he was with you, washing your hair for you, then you'd wash his hair.

He had you help him with dinner, letting you sit on the counter and just talk to him while he did the work, then he'd have you dry the dishes after he washed them. You had a washing machine but he felt this would be better.

Soon he had you going on walks around the neighbourhood and packing your bags.

You were by no means fine by the time the plane took off, but you were doing better. Every night Duff would pull you tight to his side, kiss your forehead and tell you how much he loved you, how important you were to him.

You were standing out on the balcony of the hotel you were staying at. It was a cool night and you were wearing one of Duff's shirts, the way the city lit up was beautiful to you.

"You're gonna catch a cold." Duff said, coming out to join you, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your head. "Can't have you getting sick on me."

"Because then I'd have to leave?" You asked, taking his hand in yours.

"Because then you'd get me sick and I wouldn't be able to play." You smacked his arm and he laughed.

He sighed softly and rubbed your arms, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad you came." He said, voice soft in your ear. "I like being here with you."

You nodded. "I like being here too... with you."

"Glad I'm an after thought." You shook your head at him, turning in his hold to face him and nuzzling into his chest.

"Thank you." You said softly.

"Don't do that." He said, rubbing your back. "I didn't do anything special."

"You brought me here."

"Ok, yeah, fine, you get that." He said with a smile. "That's just because I'm a band, a good one... Don't thank me for the other stuff."

You looked up at him curiously. "Why not?"

"I didn't do more than what any other good boyfriend would do... just like you help me before planes, I help you through these. It's just what we do." He explained. He looked down at you, cupping your face in his hands. "You're my perfect girl, don't forget that." He leaned down and kissed your forehead, then your nose and finally your lips.

[dragonfly0808]

Hiatus

So… this is a post I’ve been debating with myself these past 2/3 weeks on whether to make or not.

Some of yall may have noticed that I’ve been taking quite a few breaks from s4 and I have unfortunately just finally allowed myself to acknowledge that I’ve hit a bit of a writing block when it comes to my Winx Club rewrite.

I’ve had a few frustrations during s4 (even though I’ve managed to keep my writing up to my own personal standards, it’s been very difficult) and- despite being halfway through the season, unlike past seasons I still have no idea what I’m going to do with s5 and it’s just been getting to me.

And now I am forced to accept that if I keep forcing myself to churn out chapters and stressing out over keeping you all waiting until I’m satisfied with every chapter, the only thing I’ll do is kill my creativity and my love for this rewrite.

I’ve been working on this rewrite for nearly 3 years and it kinda low-key shames me to say that I am officially placing it on hiatus.

To me ‘taking a break’ and ‘hiatus’ are 2 completely different things, I know I’ve taken breaks before but I always had some vague idea of when I’d return but this time… I just don’t know.

I have been working on my Original Novel and works for other fandoms that have just been filling me with inspiration in a way I haven't been able to feel with Winx Club for a bit now.

I hope I have built up enough trust over these past 3 years for you all to believe me when I say that I will be back. I am not the type to leave things unfinished, especially a story that means so much to me and that I am so very proud of and that has helped me grow so much as a writer and has helped me get through some difficult times and express certain emotions and grief in a way I never could’ve if I hadn’t dived into this 3 long years ago.

I was really hoping to post chapters for Xmas and New Years as I have past years but I just can’t- HOWEVER, on January 28th, the third anniversary of Veiled Wings and Shattered Panoramas, I will post… something. I don’t know if it will be a chapter or not but I will do something for the anniversary.

If you wanna know what I’ll be up to; I will be working on my Original Novel since I have finally landed on exactly what idea I want to work on. I will also be working on 2 projects, one for ATLA (Zutara post-canon self-indulgent thingy) and another one that I honestly don’t know if I’ll go through with since it’d be a pretty big project and I’m still thinking about how I’d go about it, but that I am very inspired and excited about.

So yeah, thank you all for your never ending support and- again, I WILL BE BACK, this is not an abandonment of the rewrite, it’s just me having to prioritize my mental health and protect both my love for writing and my love for the rewrite. I’ll be going through my inbox this next week and answer a bunch of stuff that I just haven’t really looked through in a while.

Thank you so much for understanding and for your support. I hope you will wait for the return of the rewrite and that maybe you will give my other projects a chance when I post them. I will be posting a lot of my inner thoughts on the rewrite and my other projects chapters + thoughts on my Ko-fi if you wanna check that out.

I wish you all Happy Holidays!

With eternal love and gratitude,

Yours Truly, Dragonfly

[writersdrug]

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 10)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: Thankfully, things have been resolved between you and Konig. You start to settle in more with your team, and Roze shares a few thoughts with you over a smoke. The memories are still there, but just like the winter around you, they're cold and unwelcoming. You and Konig open up to each other a bit more, more than you had ever opened up to anyone.

WARNINGS: implications of masturbation, cursing, angst (if you squint?), plot building, graphic depictions of animal torture and death (PLEASE CONSIDER ALL WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME thank you kindly)

Notes: Yes! Hello! I exist!! I've been in a slump, and I really do apologize for that. Many of you have been very patient with me and I love and appreciate you all for it! I had to intake as much CoD literature as I could in the past few weeks to get me motivated, which helped a LOT (not to mention I discovered no fewer than ten works that currently have a hold on my heart). But it's here! I forced myself to write over half of the following chapter so that it would be less daunting to finish up. I also plan to make a wip post for yall, just to share will everyone what goes on in my rat brain.

This was edited at 3 am (god it's 4 am now, i just saw that), so if there are any grammatical or spelling errors you have my full consent to call me out on it! Please enjoy!

(sidenote, I completely didn't research how old you need to be to become a navy SEAL, so reader's age is a bit inaccurate in regards to that. pls ignore lol)

(last sidenote then you can read, does anyone have tips for customizing the layout of their fics? I see so many cool ways to style the font and cute banners and errything but I have no idea how nor what to do)

- - - -

The sky hung low with a blanket of gray. It looked like it was about to snow, although the threat was soon dismissed when noon came around and there wasn’t a single flake. The air was cold and dry, forcing me to zip my jacket up all the way and tuck my nose into the collar. I blew steady, warm breaths into my jacket and tried to soak up the heat into my bones.

It was as if the incident had never happened.

Konig and I ended up driving to the liquor store, which was a blessing, since I had run out of Yeungling (and I didn’t understand enough Turkish to converse with the clerk, nor did I have any of the appropriate money – Konig was graced with both of those necessities). We talked like there had never been a week and a half of silence between us. He talked about how he had nearly forced Ridgeback to drag me out of my room and into the common area, “… but it would have been too early for that.” He commented. That, and I would have rather died.

So life went on as normal: dreary, aside from shooting people and getting shot at. Nonetheless, it was normal, and there was a peace to be found in that.

I leaned against the building to the training room, with Roze to my left. I had intended to come out and soak up whatever natural light I could – when I saw her standing there, possibly trying to do the same, I felt the instinct to play it off as if I was just leaving the building. But she cocked her head in a greeting, and a part of me took an interest in her worry-free aura. Out of everyone, she always seemed to be the least-stressed person in the room, even in the middle of a warzone. It was the balm to my anxious mind that I never knew I needed, but gratefully stood by.

We remained together in a comfortable silence (one I would most definitely would not have been comfortable with a while ago), staring ahead, watching the indecisiveness of the brooding clouds above. I wondered what the rest of the world was doing – if they might have been as calm and carefree as us, or if they were in some kind of peril, and the horrors of it were blocked out by the clouds.

I was drawn back to the present when I heard the click click click of Roze’s lighter. I turned my head and watched as she shielded the weak flame from the wind, lighting the cigarette that hung loosely from her lips.

“You smoke?” I asked.

“Sure do.” She replied nonchalantly. “Want one?” she extended her pack of cigarettes towards me.

I glanced at the box, feeling a sour taste in my mouth.

I lay on my stomach, my muscles still twitching and shaking as I tried to even out my breaths. Ghost had tossed a thin blanket over my lower half. I hadn’t even moved from the position he had ruthlessly fucked me in – my body ached too much to even try, and my mind was still recovering from the past hour.

I watch Ghost as he reclined next to me, pushing the bottom of his mask up to place a cigarette between his lips. It was the first time I had seen any part of his face all day. He grabbed his lighter from the pocket of his pants that were discarded on the floor, lighting the end of the cigarette and inhaling. He tossed the lighter back down to the floor as he tilted his head back, exhaling a long stream of smoke. I watched it swirl in the lamplight, settling in a cloud around us. He continued puffing, staring at the wall across from the bed as I lay beside him, although I felt worlds away from him.

He'd started off the night with a mountain of stress from a mission gone sideways. Instead of the usual slow build, where he would run his hands under my shirt and kiss my lips slowly and tenderly – he had walked in and immediately demanded I remove my clothes while he began stripping out of his. I had assumed tonight was going to be a passionate one, until he threw me onto my stomach and shoved my face into the pillows. It wasn’t the first time he’d been rough with me, but it wasn’t just rough – it felt dehumanizing. An hour of constant, merciless thrusts, and a hand around my neck that restricted both my blood flow and my oxygen, and I had fallen into a state of shock.

But, in the end, I was happy to be caged in by him again.

I was happy.

He turned his eyes towards me, seeming to sense that something was off. He exhaled another puff of smoke. “Everythin’ alright?” he asked, completely void of any genuine concern.

I met his eyes with my own. I felt like I shouldn’t have to answer the question, and it stirred up a bitterness in me. But I didn’t feel like arguing with him, and I certainly didn’t want him to leave – so I nodded my head, slowly blinking my eyes. “Just tired.”

He hummed and faced the wall again. He brought one of his knees up and rested his arm against it. “Want a smoke?” he asked, still looking away.

I shook my head as much as the pillow beneath me would allow. “No.” I replied.

He sighed disappointedly. Apparently, my lack of enthusiasm after being used like an old fucktoy was irking him.

To be fair, I never spoke up about how I felt.

He grunted and rose from his position, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray by my bed, and picking up his clothes and pulling them on. My heart ached slightly as I watched him slide his shirt over his torso. I felt the threat of tears sting in my eyes as I wished his hands were holding me instead, keeping me warm and grounded. He pulled his jeans on and fastened them, buckling his belt rather quickly; and all while he faced away from me.

“Well, I know you probably need some alone time.” He muttered, sliding the skull attachment over his mask. “So I’ll get going. I’ll see you around.”

He grabbed his tactical vest and jacket and slung them over his shoulder. He paused by the door. “Thanks for tonight.” He mumbled, before finally leaving the room and softly closing the door behind him.

My eyes lingered on the ashtray with the half-smoked cigarette. A thin trail of smoke plumed into the air – I wanted to throw the tray across the room and shatter it. But it was Ghost’s, so I couldn’t; I couldn’t regardless, because it was a piece of him that remained with me, even when he left.

That, and the smell of smoke.

“Nah, I’m good.” I replied, facing the cold, empty base ahead of me.

“Good.” She said, pinching the cigarette and blowing a stream of smoke. “Stay that way. Did you know these bastards give you cancer?”

I chuckled into the collar of my jacket. “Do they, now?”

She hummed affirmatively, sucking another breath in through the cancerous bastard. “Who would’ve thought…”

We fell back into silence. I continued watching the stillness of the base, trying to see if the sky would follow through with its promise to fall. Now that my free time wasn’t spent holed up in my room, it somehow felt like there were fewer ways to spend it. With another mission on the horizon – a simple recon, yet dauntingly close to a heavily-guarded compound – no one was out and about when they usually were. Finding Roze outside and seemingly not worried was usual, however, and a warm sight, compared to how the rest of the team was on edge. Even Askel seemed grumpier than most days.

I hadn’t been seeking out someone to spend time with, no… that I would never do (or admit). But talking to a familiar face provided a comfort I had grown to need over the past couple of months. And, frankly, I felt like Konig might be getting tired of how much I ran to him when I craved social interaction. Though he had never said anything about it, I felt like I needed to branch out to other team members than just my Colonel. One might think I was trying to kiss his ass (I knew the accusation had already crossed Juno’s mind, but the young soldier was good at holding his tongue – when Konig was around, at least).

“You ever think about how ‘little girl’ you would react to this?” Roze asked, and I turned to face her. She had her nose scrunched, and a tinge of pink dusted over her cold cheeks. “Guns, war, no playdates or days at the beach…”

I sighed. “Probably would have cried.” I replied, allowing my freezing nose to poke over the collar of my jacket. “Especially if I had known that being a princess now adays meant spending more time worrying about becoming a hostage than anything else.”

Roze chuckled. “It’s a good thing we didn’t know then.” Her face was mostly blank, but I thought I noticed a hint of bitterness in the way her gaze landed on the ground. I watched her flick her cigarette with a bit more aggression than usual. “I would’ve tried to convince my entire family to run away to Scotland, live in hiding and pretend the rest of the world was a dream.”

“Scotland?” I asked. Soap’s cocky grin and heavy Scottish accent stirred in my mind, but it felt like nothing more than a small cloud of dust.

“Yeah – heard it’s fucking gorgeous over there.” She waved her cigarette in no particular direction. “Now, I don’t know how peaceful it is in terms of politics and war, but it’s pretty spacious. Simple, too. I feel like if I talked about throwing all my shit away and becoming a fisherman for a living, I wouldn’t get people trying to talk me out of it like I would in the States.” She took another drag, and laughed out the smoke.

“Fisherman?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled, a hardened smile gracing her lips. “I don’t know why it sounds so appealing… it just does.”

I hummed and looked back out at the compound. I wondered about Roze’s past; she had never said or done anything to indicate that it was particularly rough, as it was for the majority of us (us – I still wasn’t used to including myself, but it was becoming more of a habit each time), but the weariness in her eyes when she spoke about her younger self made me question what that girl had been through. Maybe it was just nostalgia. A yen for simpler times. Roze seemed to appreciate the simple things in life.

“You know Askel goes ice fishing?” she said suddenly.

I smiled underneath my jacket. “Seems like something he would do.”

“Every winter.” She continued. She dropped her cigarette to the floor and crushed it into the gravel. “He takes about three weeks of leave, if we’re lucky enough to get it, and goes to Norway. Sits on a frozen lake for hours a day, just waiting for a fish.”

“You make it sound like he’s never caught one.” I point out, my eyes lingering on the cigarette.

She shrugged her shoulders. “So does he. Every time I ask him what he caught, he just laughs. Says he’s never expects to get a bite.”

I closed my eyes and hummed in response. It was easy to picture the scene – Askel, sitting on a thick layer of ice, nursing the hoppy beers that he and Konig loved so much and waiting for a fish to bite. I wondered if he even bothered to reel the line in when he did catch something. Or if he even went fishing at all. Maybe he just went out there to get a sense of peace, to pretend that war and death didn’t exist.

The motion of thick, heavy snowflakes falling from the sky caught my attention. They landed on the skin of my nose, resisting the warmth for a few moments, before they eventually melted into trickles of water. A sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of them towards us, making the both of us flinch.

Maybe fishing doesn’t sound too bad.

- - - -

The shooting range was mostly silent, save for the occasional conversation between me and Konig. The lights were low, easily illuminating the gunpowder and dust swirling in the air. Konig and I stared at the paper target as we analyzed my shots. A few hit dead center, although most of them were clustered around the lower left of the bullseye. My lips were pursed into a scowl as I glared at my sub-par aim – it wasn’t typically so awful, but of course it was while Konig had been watching.

“Eh, are you sure you didn’t lie on your paperwork about being a sniper?” Konig asked as he stood behind my left shoulder, taking the target from my hands and looking at it closely. “You weren’t even ten yards from it. This is very poor marksmanship.”

I scowled in embarrassment, taking my pistol to the counter and pulling out the mag. “Rough day.” I answered bluntly as I started packing more bullets into the small compartment. It wasn’t a lie – I had barely gotten any sleep the night before. I was in the middle of a rather interesting dream involving me and Ghost, until my alarm woke me up before anything of importance happened.

“Very bad…” he mumbled to himself. I clicked my tongue in annoyance.

“Y’know…” I grumbled, loading the mag back into the gun and shoving it in my holster, “I don’t like stereotyping, but the boot really does fit you.” I walked past him and out into the hallway, not waiting for him to follow.

“Hmm?” he made an indignant noise, momentarily stuck in his spot, before he came jogging after me. “What does that mean? What stereotype?”

I chuckled. “Haven’t you ever how Germans are extremely blunt?” I asked.

“Austrian.” He retorted. “Do I need to brand that onto my face for you?”

“Wouldn’t do me much good, with the mask ‘n all.” I replied.

He laughed – rather snorted, as usual – “Ah, you’re right. Maybe I am blunt – just as much as you are defensive.”

I stopped at the end of the hall, right in front of the exit. “Defe-“ I turned on my heel to scowl at him. “I am not defensive! Where did you get that idea?!”

He stopped behind me, his eyes widening. He gestured an open palm in my direction. “This.”

I huffed, turning back around to punch the door open. The snow from earlier that day had ceased, blanketing the base in a thin layer of white. The moon seemed that much brighter against the crystalized ground, and the yellow lights scattered across the compound made parts of the snow look like sandy dunes. My nose tingled from the nip of the chilly air, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my body as the door fell shut behind me and Konig.

“Well, what am I supposed to say when you call me defensive?”

“You could agree.”

“But I don’t.”

“Which proves my point.”

I huffed in frustration, despite the smirk curling on the edges of my lips. “So, either I have to agree with you, whether I really do or don’t, or you’ve corralled me into a paradox.”

I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “A what?”

“A paradox, like a – y’know, never mind. It’s too difficult to explain.” I let him fall in step next to me, although he was the one who needed to slow down to match my pace. “We can just agree to disagree, how’s that?”

“Agreed.” He nodded, and I chuckled. “It won’t change the fact that I’m right, you know.” He added.

I bit my lip and tried to keep my smile from growing ridiculously larger. I looked up at him and patted his shoulder – he looked down at me, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled back. A stray, reddish-brown curl poked through the side of his balaclava, and I found the miniscule detail warming my heart through the cold air. He felt real, and in this moment, too human for this kind of life.

“Why did you choose the military?” I asked, turning back to look at the ground as we walked.

He hummed. “Isn’t that every boy’s dream?”

“Well, yes – but most of the time, it never becomes more than that.” I responded.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, mimicking my own position. “I’m not really sure what made me push so much for it. I almost didn’t make it, for obvious reasons.”

I chuckled. “Size does matter, huh?”

He looked down at me with a deadpan gaze, one that I refused to meet. “It almost did, in a bad way. And I almost backed out before they could be the ones to turn me away. But, of course, they knew they would find some use for my size – so they took me in.”

“And what did they do with you?” I asked, looking back at him.

“A ‘human battering ram,’ as my superiors had so nicely called it.” He framed the description with his hands in the air, as if it had been written on a plaque. I laughed and looked back down at my feet.

“Seriously?” I asked. “So they just had you breaking down doors, and then what?”

Konig laughed with me. “Well, I still had a gun, so I was able to shoot, thank goodness. And I had a bit more gear so I wouldn’t break my bones against the doors – I still dislocated my shoulder a few times, however…” he rolled his left shoulder, as if there was still a lingering pain from how often he had thrown himself at doors. “It was actually during a period of recovery when I proved that I could still be a sniper. My shoulder was still healing, so I had to give up being a battering ram for a while. I was sat with Horangi on the side of the mountain to give him cover. Of course, he was ambushed – he had to fight the Arschgiege right when we were given the order to shoot, so I had to take position behind the gun.” I noticed that his chest was puffed out a bit from pride. “That really knocked their pants off.”

I chuckled, choosing to ignore the inaccuracy of his phrase. “Did it now?”

“It did.” He replied, then looked at the ground. “For a moment. I got a good earful for overstepping boundaries that day, but it’s what ultimately landed me here – so I’m grateful for it.”

I nodded and hummed. “What was Horangi picked for?”

Konig shrugged, his hands now back in his pockets. “He never said what he and Commander had spoken about in his office. But, even if he wasn’t chosen – I like to think we come as a package. If I go, he goes, if he doesn’t, I don’t.”

I felt my heart warm at his words. The memory of how Juno had described Konig couldn’t be farther from my mind. It almost felt like I was talking to someone I briefly crossed paths with in my youth – not a war criminal, not the bloody and stiff soldier who had stepped onto the heli after our first mission. I envied his ability to separate his work stress from the time he had in between missions.

“Why did you decide to join?” He asked, catching me off guard.

It was only fair that I opened up to him, since he was so willing to do the same. Always the one to go first, too. But I had to be careful. I didn’t want this to turn into a pity party, and I didn’t want to dig anything up that I had worked so hard to bury deep beneath my subconscious.

“I was… a weird kid. Like you.” I said, making Konig scoff and roll his eyes. “Looking back now, I hate my younger self. I was so sensitive to what people thought about me, and I just wanted to be independent and strong. I wanted to be a ‘different girl.’” I gritted out the words that left a sour taste in my mouth. “I think I just wanted attention at first – of course, when I heard how everyone said they hated how annoying teenage girls were, and how gullible and weak they were, it just – it made me change. I wanted to prove everyone wrong, it wasn’t just about being different anymore. So, as soon as I turned old enough, I enlisted. Didn’t get to Navy SEAL right away, of course… but I joined every program I was allowed in until I could submit my application.”

I sighed, then chuckled. “Thought my family would say they were proud, that I was successful, that I was doing a good job… they were just angry. Said I was throwing my life away for business that didn’t involve our country.” I opened my mouth to say more, but I ended up scoffing and closing it once again. I felt like I had shared enough.

I looked at Konig, expecting him to acknowledge what I said. “That’s how the story goes…” he would say. But, when I met his gaze, I only saw concern. His brow was creased with what I imagined was pity, and my stomach churned. It was the exact opposite of the reaction I had hoped for. I only wanted to share stories with him, and now it was… this.

“I think you made the right choices.” He said, and I looked away.

“You don’t need to make me feel better, Konig. I appreciate it, but-“

“I’m not just trying to make you feel better.” He said, his accent slightly thicker from his exasperation. “You’re good at what you do. Your parents are just probably worried for you, and they don’t know how to show it.”

I bit down on my tongue, my eyes settling on the building in front of us with a hard expression. If only.

“Maybe that’s it.” I muttered, hoping he would drop the subject. He seemed to understand, and turned to look ahead with a disappointed sigh. My heart sank the tiniest bit at the sound, and I internally scolded myself. Still a people-pleaser, apparently.

We continued walking in silence, the buzz of the lights above us mimicking the static of a communication system that had been severed in a time where it was needed most. The edge of the barracks appeared into our view, just around the corner of the arsenal sheds that stood between us and our destination. I continued to stare at the ground, pretending to watch my steps and try to not slip on the snowy asphalt. My heart twisted with each second of silence that sat thickly between us. It wasn’t technically a fight, but somehow, it felt worse. It felt like the first time I had pissed him off, the first time we had spoken to each other – and god, did I already hate myself for the way I had acted towards him during those first few weeks. I didn’t want to drive another wedge between us, not after the ones that had already been worked back out.

I exhaled heavily through my nose. “Sorry.” I mumbled quietly, but loud enough that I knew it reached his ears. “Sensitive topics.”

He flitted his eyes in my direction, but didn’t bother to move his head. He sighed, and I nearly jolted when I felt his wide hand on my upper back. It rubbed back and forth, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was comforting me. Or, trying to, at least.

“I know.” He said, and his hand rested on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I was stuck on the feeling of the roughness of his palm, which I could gleam through the fabric of my jacket. How his fingers squeezed gently and released twice. There was no hidden meaning, no forced contact or any kind of attempt to put context into the touch. It was… natural. Warm, comforting, and it spoke a thousand words that I wouldn’t have been able to stomach if he had said them. It broke past my self-hatred and walls of ‘don’t be weak’ that I would have used as my defense if he had tried to verbally convey any sort of consolation. It was the first time I didn’t feel awkward about being so close to him, let alone when he was touching me. I wondered if he did this on purpose, or if he had no idea what he was doing at all.

I let myself stand nearer to him, almost tucked under his arm. I looked up and smiled as genuinely as I could – not that it was hard for me, but because I wanted to make sure that he really knew how much I appreciated the gesture. Although, if he knew that this simple act of comfort would pierce through my outer shell, was it really necessary?

“Thank you, Konig.” I said.

He looked down at me and smiled. That damn smile. I wondered how much more refreshing it would be when he wasn’t wearing his mask. It was already too much for my soul to bear when it was just the crinkling in his eyes that I could see.

“Anytime, Bonnie.” He replied, patting my shoulder before tucking his hand back into his pocket. I grieved minimally at the loss of the touch, but I was happy for what it was. “And I mean it. Anytime you need to talk – or not talk, and do that empty staring that you do – just come find me.”

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Anytime?” I asked amusedly.

“Mhm!” Konig replied, his eyes on the ground as he watched his steps. Then, the realization hit him, and his eyes went wide with panic. “Oh- well, eh- I guess, not anytime-“

“You gonna tell me when?” I joked, and he laughed. “You need an open/closed sign on your door.” I jogged ahead, trying to reach the door to the barracks before he did.

“How about this?” he called out, and I could hear the grin behind his mask. “I’ll nail a chalkboard to my door, and if I’m busy, I’ll draw a stick guy jerking off in his bed!”

My cheeks burned after I heard him. “No!” I shrieked, laughing nervously. “You’ll traumatize Juno!” I quickly tried to pin this on someone other than me.

“Juno, hah?” Konig teased, and I had half a mind to run into the building and leave him on the quad. “I don’t care about him. Kid needs to be traumatized.”

I laughed and threw my head back, turning the corner around the arsenal shed. “That’s not very-“

Immediately, my heart leapt into my throat, and I gasped. Konig nearly ran into my back as he skidded to a halt.

Sick, sick, what the fuck, I feel sick-

“Stimmt etwas nicht?” he asked, concerned. “What- oh, scheisse-“

We both stared at the bird on the ground. A crow from the looks of it, though it was hard to even decipher that it was a bird in the first place, due to the state it was in. Its belly had been cut open, entrails and bloody bits pulled from the abdomen and strewn to either side of the bird. Its wings were stretched to their full capacity and most likely beyond it, crushed and missing a large number of feathers. Both of the legs appeared to have been ripped off and tossed to the left of the crow. Its beak was the worst of it all: pried open, the jaw probably broken from how wide it was spread. A haunting look of terror in the crow’s red, glossy eyes made a violent shiver run up my spine.

I exhaled shakily, my eyes still glued to the horror. “Holy shit – what the-“

Konig quickly walked around me and knelt in front of the crow. I shifted to look over his shoulder, still fearfully curious, but he held a hand out behind him, urging me to stay in place. With his other hand, he pulled at one of the bird’s wings, stiff and heavy. Whether it was frozen from the cold, or this was the effects from rigor mortis, I couldn’t tell.

“How – did a fucking fox do that?!” I asked. Are there even foxes in this area? How the hell did one get on base?

“Nein.” Konig replied, still looking at the corpse. His gaze fell upon it with a sense of… familiarity, maybe? “Not a fox, no.”

“Then what? It – whatever it was didn’t even eat-“

“I’ll take care of this.” Was all Konig said. He stood up and marched past me – I was barely able to catch a glimpse of his furious expression. His eyes were hard and narrow, and as he walked away, I noticed that his shoulders were tense and his hands were balled into fists. I didn’t dare say anything to him; he almost looked the same way he did after our first mission together, except this time, his anger seemed to be directed at something, instead of just a post-mission adrenaline high.

“I’ll see you later.” He said over his shoulder. There was an obvious fury to his words, and although I knew it wasn’t intended towards me, it still made me freeze where I stood – almost as if I might anger him more simply by taking a step after him.

Whatever it is… I thought, watching him disappear into the compound, he’s sorting it out. I can take care of myself. Although, with such an abrupt and tense departure, I was at a loss on what to do next. I looked back at the bird; its terrified eyes locked onto the sky above it, frozen in its last wish to fly away from whatever horror it endured.

A shiver ran up my spine, prompting me to look away.

- - - -

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[seeingivy]

the scouts

roommate eren x f!reader 

eren’s hometown friends have a lot to say. vis a vis you. 

**find the series masterlist here

content warning: galliard slander, irritable bowel syndrome, mikasa don’t gaf, connie and sasha are thieves, lying??, carla yeager being a sunshine, eren being a cheeky little shit, laxatives 

an: alright. feast my children. pls keep ur little memes and drawings and funny comments coming bc I love them (and they incentivize me to write chapters faster so I can seem more of them LOL) - also @togemayo and @rebeccawinters your connie and reiner cameos have ARRIVED, love you da mostest 

previous part linked here

- 

“There’s no way in fucking hell you called me about this. I am a grown man, with a child. I’m above stupid shit like this.” 

“Fuck you, Galliard. Pieck would help me with this, you know that.” 

“Then call her. I’m going to block you.” 

“You don’t think I tried that? I would never willingly talk to you, like ever. Please, Galliard, just tell me what to do.” 

“Twerp, you’re giving him a necklace, not proposing marriage. You’re not going to look desperate if you walk to a fucking soccer field and just to give it to him.” 

“Okay. Are you sure?” 

“I’m hanging up now.” 

“Like really. You’re not just saying that, are you?” 

“Don’t call me unless you’re dying. And even then, you better have tried every other person you know before you ever dial this number again.” 

Static. Fucking asshole hung up on you. 

Eren has a soccer game today. He’d let you know early on in the week that he wouldn’t be here to make breakfast for you on Friday because his family and a few of his hometown friends were coming to watch the game. Apparently, this game was a really big deal - some type of rivalry type thing with another university. 

You weren’t going. Obviously. You had stopped going the second Hitch took your jersey, because it was too embarrassing to think about going now. I mean what are you even supposed to wear now? And what’s the point of going if Eren’s with her and she’s going to be there? 

Yet here you are, waiting in the line outside of the stadium. Everyone around you is decked out - forest green shirts, face paint, streamers - and you can already tell that this game is way more intense than the ones you had been to. In the past, it would be you and maybe five other people in the stands, spread out doing homework. But this game looks like it’s going to be packed. 

All the more reason to do this. 

to jean-boy

you: hey. are you at the game today? 

jean-boy: yeah. on the field with min. they’re all warming up. 

you: i didn’t realize this game would be such a big deal lol. 

jean-boy: yeah. I think everyone’s kind of anxious. eren hasn’t made a single goal all morning and he’s getting more pissed each time he tries 

you: doesn’t help that he left his necklace at home 

jean-boy: the key necklace? did you bring it? 

you: yeah. that’s why im here. i remember he said something about like he always loses games or gets hurt or something when he doesn’t wear it. thought i’d bring it so i don’t have to help him to the toilet when he breaks his legs or smth. 

jean-boy: meet me in the back. ill let you in so you can give it to him. 

You awkwardly wait in the back of the stadium, teetering on your heels as you wait for Jean. You’re just giving him his necklace. It doesn’t mean anything. He won’t know that you like him because you’re just giving him his good luck charm. You’re being a good friend. Anyone in your position would do this. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi Jean.” 

“What are you wearing?” 

You look down, only now paying attention to the outfit that you were wearing. You didn’t think it was that bad - black jeans and a blue cardigan. 

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” 

“You wore the rival's colors.” 

“Okay? Arrest me, Jean.” 

“No, it’s like a thing. You can’t wear the rival's colors. Armin and Eren are going to make you change the second you get on the field.” 

“You guys are so superstitious. It’s just a shirt.” 

He shakes his head as you both walk through the door, pacing across the turf as he sets out to look for Eren. All the players are running on the field, kicking balls in between each other, hitting them into the nets. You spot Eren at the end, his head in his hands as he talks to Armin on the side. 

“Hey. Found him. You can go back, I’ll just give it to him and leave.” 

He nods, leaving your side as you make your way over there. You walk up just in time to catch the end of Armin and Eren’s conversation, your ears burning. You shouldn’t have come. 

“How do you know you love Annie? Because, sometimes I think I love her, Armin.” 

You can pretend like that one didn’t sting. You clear your throat, the two of them turning their backs to look at you. You watch Eren’s eyes nearly boggle out of their sockets as Armin drops the water bottle he was holding, at the sight of you standing there. Armin awkwardly walks away as Eren walks up, his eyes still flashing in shock. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“What happened to hello? How are you? My name is?” 

“How much did you hear?” 

“None of it. Did I miss something important?” 

You see his shoulders relax, pushing out a sigh of relief. First he calls you his best friend and then he can’t even tell you he thinks he might love Hitch?

“Yeah, you almost heard about my murder plot. It all started that fateful day, when I let you move into my apartment.” 

“That was months ago. Surely the opportunity must have presented itself. Knife to the back in the shower…smack me across the head with a frying pan…” 

“I’m playing the long game. You’ll never see it coming.” 

You both laugh, with you rolling your eyes as the silence settles around you too. You can see the stands filling up at your sides, the anticipation building in the stadium. 

“Um so-” 

“What are you wearing, Y/N?”

“We’re not doing this, Eren.” 

“You have to change. Like now.” 

“I’m not walking around in my tank top, Eren. It’s cold. And I’ll leave anyway, I just came to give you this.” 

You hold the key necklace up, dangling it between the two of your faces. You watch his eyes light up as he takes the necklace from your hands. He then cups your face in his hand and presses a kiss to your fucking forehead, before putting his arms around you and spinning you in the air.

“Oh my fucking god, thank you. You brilliant, brilliant girl. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ve been missing goals all morning.” 

Your brain is malfunctioning. You’ve literally picked up Eren from parties in the dead of the night and he’s barely even said thank you when you did that. This is all it takes? A fucking necklace and he gives you a forehead kiss? 

He sets you down, still flashing you a bigger than big smile as he latches the necklace on. 

“You’re not missing goals because you weren’t wearing the necklace.” 

“Yes. I was. We’re not having this argument right now, especially when you’re wearing that. I have something you can wear.” 

You hear Armin walk up, holding two jerseys in his hand. 

“Way ahead of you. She can wear mine or yours. Everyone else put their spares in their lockers already.” 

“Mine. Thanks Armin.” 

“Don’t tell me you believe in this too, Armin?” 

“Just put it on. If you don’t, Eren will blame you if the game goes wrong.” 

Armin walks away, leaving the two of you standing again. Eren’s holding the jersey out in front of you, waiting for you to put it on. 

“Full disclosure. I will blame it on you, if we lose kitty.” 

“It’s just a color.” 

“No. No, it’s the principle. Think about it. My girl can’t be wearing the rival colors on our sides of the stands. That’s just a bad omen..like we’re asking to lose the game or something.” 

My girl. 

“I’m leaving, Eren. I just came to give you the necklace.” 

He puts his hands on your waist, spinning you around to turn you towards the stadium, where everyone was sitting. He leaves one hand on there, his other sliding down to your wrist. 

“What are you doing?” 

He lifts your hand up, shaking it in front of the stadium. 

“This isn’t the time for a puppet show, Eren.” 

“Look at the second row, towards the middle.” 

You squint your eyes, scanning the entire row. And then you fucking see it. Eren’s parents and his brother. He’s making you wave at them. And they’re doing it back, nearly jumping to return the gesture.

“Eren.” 

He spins you back around and he fucking smirks at you. 

“You waved at them. Now, they’re going to expect you to go sit with them. For the entire game, mind you. Meaning you’re staying, so you should put it on.” 

Asshole. 

“Unless you want to leave my mom hanging?” 

“Give me the jersey, Eren.” 

He flashes you a winning smile, clearly delighted with his victory. You unbutton the ends of the cardigan, slipping it off and switching it with Eren’s jersey. He reaches forward, pulling out the ends of your hair that were tucked into the jersey as you smooth it against your clothes. 

“So.” 

“So.” 

“Win your game or whatever. Without the help of your stupid necklace.” 

“Planning on it, peaches. Necklace and all.” 

He pokes the side of your cheek and flashes you one last smile as he runs back onto the field, right in front of the goal. You watch as he centers the ball in front of him, kicking it into the net on the first try. He turns to the side, pointing at you after making the goal, as he mouths four words.

I told you so. 

- 

You tap Zeke on the shoulder, the three of them turning their heads towards you. 

“Hi. Mind if I sit with you guys?” 

The three of them jump up - Grisha shaking your hand very excitedly, Zeke crushing you in a hug, and Carla cupping your face in her hands, pressing a kiss on both of your cheeks. 

So this is where Eren gets it from. 

“We’re so excited you came, sweet girl. We were hoping you would find your way over here when we saw you on the field.” 

You nod, Carla squeezing your hands in hers (another thing Eren gets from her, you’re sure of it). You settle in the seat next to Zeke, brushing your sweaty palms against the ends of your pants. You can see the game is starting as they all take their places on the field, Eren giving the four of you one last wave. You look at the group of people seated directly to your right, the four of them waving back at him too. 

And then you remember. Eren’s hometown friends came down to watch his game. 

You take in the sight of the four of them. You can recognize the girl at the end, farthest from you. Mikasa - Eren’s childhood best friend, the two of them and Armin were inseparable. The two in the middle you recognize as well, from the polaroid that Eren had in his wallet. They’re both arguing with each other - with him pulling her hair and her elbowing him in the sides. The fourth boy is entirely unrecognizable to you - broad shoulders, short, messy blonde hair. 

You tap him on the shoulder. 

“Hi. You’re one of Eren’s hometown friends, right? My name is Y/N. I’m his roommate.” 

At the sound of this, the four of them turn their heads, turning to face you. 

“His roommate? Since when?” 

“Yeah. We’ve been living together since the start of the semester.” 

“Reiner, there’s no way in hell right? He kept going on and on about how he was going to finally have a bachelor pad this semester.” 

“There’s no fucking way. He literally hated having a roommate. Remember when he threw up on Samuel’s bed on purpose when he was drunk?” 

Mental note, Reiner’s the one with the blonde hair. The three of them turn their heads towards Mikasa, who's still watching the game. You’re not sure when she showed up, but Annie’s sitting at her side - the two of them linking their arms together as they sit. Right. She must already know Mikasa since her and Armin have been dating for a while. 

“Mikasa. Did you know about this?” 

“He may have mentioned it once or twice to me, Connie.” 

Buzzed hair is Connie. Connie and the girl in the middle open up the space between them, gesturing for the two of you to sit between them. You don’t miss the look they give each other as you sit down, the two of them smiling deviously. 

“I’m Sasha.” 

“And I’m Connie.” 

“It’s nice to meet you guys, really.” 

They both smile, linking their arms with yours as they start staring at you more intently. 

“Say. Do you mind answering a few questions for us?” 

“Sure.” 

“How did Eren become your roommate?” 

“I kind of had these sucky roommates last semester. They kind of didn’t mention that they didn’t want to room with me anymore so I kind of switched around at staying at my friends place while I tried to look for an apartment. I couldn’t find one after a week and I met Eren at Armin’s and he offered.” 

You watch the three of them, Reiner leaning over now, widening their eyes at you. 

“He offered? To house you, a woman, another person, in his apartment, willingly?” 

“I mean, I think so? I think he might have felt bad or something. I’m not really sure why he did it.” 

“I might have an idea.” 

At Reiner’s comment, the three of them start giggling, like they’re all in on some joke you’re not quite sure of. 

“Do you like Taylor Swift, Y/N?” 

“I do, Connie. Is it that obvious?” 

You feel Connie shaking your arm, nearly jumping out of his seat. 

“Me too. What’s your favorite album? Favorite song? Folklore or Evermore?” 

“Probably, Reputation. For the song, I think maybe Sweet Nothing? And definitely Evermore over here.” 

Reiner reaches over and smacks Connie on the back of the neck, mentioning he was getting off track. Off track of what? 

“Say. Have you ever…played Taylor Swift for Eren or something?” 

“Um, not exactly playing it for him but I kind of have a tendency to sing in the shower sometimes. But also, he did willingly watch the Reputation Stadium Tour without me prompting him to, so I think it’s growing on him.” 

At this, Connie and Sasha lean over, their faces a few feet from yours. 

“I fucking knew it. That playlist is about you.” 

“What playlist?” 

You watch Reiner pull out his phone, opening out his Spotify app. The three of them are still smirking - the same way Eren did when he trapped you into staying at the game. 

He hands you Eren’s Spotify profile, with exactly one playlist on it, called peaches. The picture is the one from when you and Eren went to see Kenny in the city, only your hands in view as you pet the cat the two of you saw on the street. 

You scroll through the playlist, with well over a hundred songs - most of them being Taylor Swift. They are organized by album, a few songs picked out from each one. Meaning, Eren went through each album and picked out the songs that he liked. Just because you said you liked Taylor Swift. I mean, it did have to be about you. It is called peaches. 

“So. Is it about you?” 

“Uh, yeah. I think so, Connie. Those are my hands. And he calls me peaches, because of my shampoo.” 

Mikasa leans over, interjecting in the conversation. 

“Did he make you switch it? The shampoo?” 

“Uh, no. I think he likes it?” 

“Hm.” 

Mikasa leans back, sharing a look with Sasha. 

“Is that a big deal or something, Connie?” 

“Kind of. Eren got really bad food poisoning from some peach flavored concoction Reiner made him once in high school. The smell makes him want to like vomit.” 

“It wasn’t a concoction, it was a protein shake. How was I supposed to know that dragon fruit was basically a laxative?” 

“We all told you. Like six times.” the three of them respond, rolling their eyes. 

Sasha and Connie unlink their arms from yours, turning their attention back to the game. The four of them interject once in a while, lost in their own conversations, but your head is still buzzing from the one that you had with them. 

Eren has a playlist. That he made for you. He spent hours probably - listening to each song, picking out the ones he liked. 

“Say. Did Eren ever mention us?” 

“Hm. Well, I knew about Mikasa - Armin and Eren have both mentioned her. And I’ve seen a picture of the two of you before, Eren has one in his wallet. But no Reiner, never mentioned you.” 

“We have his wallet.” 

Reiner taps Zeke on the shoulder and pockets the wallet from him. Sasha and Connie reach over, pulling out the dollar bills first - equally dividing the cash between the five of you and stuffing her share in her pocket - before returing it to Reiner, who pulls out both polaroids. 

This is when you realize your mistake. Because the polaroid of you kissing his cheek is still in his fucking wallet. You watch Reiner pull it out and hold it out in front of Connie and Sasha, the two of them shaking you in their arms as they all scream in your ears. 

“You guys are so cute! We fucking knew it. When did you start dating?” 

At the sound of that, you see Carla turn her head out of the corner of her eyes, slightly shuffling over to see what you two are talking about. And then your mistake gets even worse. Because then Carla runs over, kissing you twice on the cheeks again and literally bursting out of happiness at the news. 

“Oh, I’m so happy for you two. I knew something was going on. And I even told Eren, he better get a move on because a girl like you doesn’t stay single for long.” 

“You would be shocked, Mrs.Yeager.” 

She takes her hands into yours, squeezing twice again. Fucking Yeagers and their hand squeezing. It’s almost impossible not to like them. 

“Take care of our boy, okay?. He’s really sensitive and emotional, which I’m sure you know already but he means well. Really. And let him take care of you too. He’s told me that you’re a little bit more closed off at times, but he would never hurt you. He cares about you, so so much. It’s you two, on the same side, always.” 

And you can’t do it. You can’t tell her the truth because…she’s just so excited. So happy for the two of you. The way she’s holding your hands in hers, kissing your cheeks, doting over you. She’s so excited that it’s you. You don’t want to be the one to tell her that her son has no interest in you. 

So you don’t. 

“I will. Take care of him, I mean.” 

She smiles widely again, crushing you in your arms as he gives you another hug. 

Now you have to find Eren. And tell him that you just told your mom that the two of you are dating. 

-  

You find him at half-time, outside the locker room. He’s lying on the bench with two of his teammates, ice packs pressed to each of his foreheads. 

“Ren?” 

He immediately sits up at the sound of your voice, pulling the ice pack off his head as he stands up. He gestures towards the walkway, the two of you walking back down to the stadium. 

“Everything okay, kitty?” 

“Uh. I might have messed up.” 

He stops, turning to face you. 

“What did you do?” 

“Promise you won’t be mad, Ren?” 

“I could never be mad at you. You know that.” 

Right. Okay. Just tell him. That’s when you start rambling. 

“Well. I met your friends - they’re really nice. Connie and Sasha stole some of your money, though. And Reiner was basically telling me about how he gave you Irritable Bowel Syndrome with a peach smoothie he made you, which is weird because you call me peaches but they were insisting that you hate them. Right, so I told them that you keep a polaroid of them in your wallet - because it’s so cute and I would want to know if I was them -  and then they pulled your wallet out and the other polaroid was still in there. And then your mom saw and she was just being so…so sweet that I didn’t have the heart to tell her we weren’t really together.” 

He’s staring you down. Green eyes, forehead scrunched up, lips in a straight line. Stop paying attention to his fucking lips. 

“So. Let me get this straight. You told my mom that…we were dating?” 

“Yes.”

“That’s it?” 

“What? 

“I thought you killed someone or something. That’s not a big deal.” 

“How is that not a big deal? I just lied to your mother. And told her that we were dating.” 

“Yeah. I’d probably do the same thing if I was in your position. She probably gave you that whole lecture right, about how we need to take care of each other, how I’m all sensitive and emotional?” 

You’ve got to be kidding me. 

“Yeah. How’d you know? 

“She gave me the same one after she met you. Even I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wasn’t dating you. I just told her I liked you, that’s all.” 

“Oh. Okay. I was like freaking out about it.” 

He locks his fingers with yours, squeezing twice as the two of you continue to slowly walk. 

“It’s okay. I’ll deal with her. She just really likes you, that’s all. They all do.” 

“Okay. You sure it’s okay? You’re not secretly mad at me right?” 

He looks over, giving you a lopsided grin, the one that makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Really, kitty. I could never be mad at you. And I know you. There’s nothing nefarious going on up here.” 

He takes his fingers, tapping on your forehead. 

“How do you know? This could all be a part of my secret plot to be the new Mrs. Yeager.” 

“Bullshit.” 

You nudge into him, making him stumble to the side as you both make it to the front of the stadium. 

“And why’s that?” 

“Because. You wouldn’t need a secret plot if that’s what you wanted.” 

He taps the end of your nose before lifting the bar to run back on the field to finish the game, leaving you more confused than when you arrived here.

Stupid Galliard. He always gives terrible advice. 

- 

next chapter linked here

taglist: @maliakealoha @smolone88 @mykyoon @squirrelspoetry @roronoazorosbxtchh @fell-4-u @erensleftnutt @thelazylemur @mg63k @filunara @mblrrr @spidersinmybutthole @lezsie @erensmoodygf @maesthebestmonth @nanamiswife22 @lalalucidity @lapin0u @cullenswife @leafguitar @saiyasworld @rebeccawinters @mrs-sullys-blog @red-moon-dream @icansmellsouls @luvinclouds @katestrophes @amourely @6sakusa @miralbdo @k0z3me @celiniverse @txminie-blog @erenspersonalwh0re @s0f14sbs @violetmatcha @sweetenertea @wheredidmycrowngo @serendippindots @intimacywithceline @alonemoth @l0v31yw0r1d @meowmeowmau @miasthoughtsdotcom @lia-sstuff @sad-darksoul @bsenpai @getfckdd @twistedchild808 @conniesbbymama @tysynn @smokeyfuzz @faejvst @str4wberrylover @cutiejg @studywithrosie01 @princess-ackerman @mxnst3rz @dryxspecialist66 @uenovv @theyloveniqueeeee @sk1nn1p3nn1s @kz-luvs-you 

[notsocooljess]

Double Date

finally wrote the drabble i’ve been trying to write for weeks based on this reddit post discovered by @rainymyx in this post. i had so much fun writing this!

i want to continue to add to this based on the original reddit poster’s updates, so we’ll see!

read this on ao3 here

“What can I say? College football days should always be the best days of a man’s life. Now your best days can be listening to me talk about them.”

Ugh. Katniss huffed out a puff of air as she listened to Cato speak. An hour ago, she had been so excited for this date. They were texting for the past two weeks, and their conversation was easy and funny and, most importantly, normal. Now in person, his vibe was totally different than who he portrayed himself as online. Now, he was a thirty-year-old man who wouldn’t stop talking to her about his glory days from ten years ago and the “boozing, blinkers, and babes” that came with them.

After only receiving their appetizers and a single drink, Katniss knew she couldn’t stick around. The thought of having to hear Cato talk about another frat party he attended before The Force Awakens was released was nearly enough to bring her to tears. Desperate, Katniss did what she always did in trying times like these: text Johanna.

“Katniss! Katniss! I need your help, quick!” Johanna’s voice rang through her phone not even a minute later. Her ability to sound like she was truly in agony was as impressive as always.

“Johanna!? What’s going on?” Katniss responded, hoping her acting was, for the first time in her life, passable.

“It’s the baby! I need you here now!” her childless, non-babysitting, kid-hating friend shouted before quickly hanging up.

Katniss darted her eyes to Cato’s, and his brows were knit tightly as if he were trying to to put together the pieces of the conversation that just transpired.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure if you heard. My friend really needs me. She needs help with her… baby. I hate to cut this short, but,” she didn’t finish her sentence as she slipped on her coat. She shuffled through her bag and retrieved a twenty-dollar bill, smacking it on the table.

“Oh, yeah, it’s cool. You still wanna meet up at my place later, right? I have the best surprise waiting for you,” Cato responded while wagging his eyebrows, seemingly uncaring about her fabricated dire emergency or the quality of their date at all. This only irritated Katniss more. Her friend’s fake baby was in trouble, and all he cared about was getting laid!

“Uh… yeah, no. Definitely not. Let’s just forget about this, okay? Have the night you deserve,” Katniss practically snarled as she fled the restaurant.

Once she was in her car, she peeled out of the parking lot and quickly went around the block, looking for a place to park so she could call Johanna. She found a spot located outside of a small pub and dialed her friend.

“How was I this time? I feel like I’m really perfecting my blood-curdling shrillness. What do you say? Any pointers?” Johanna asked as soon as she answered the phone.

Katniss wanted to laugh, but now that the situation was over, she felt defeated. She actually had high hopes for this date, but she again found herself needing to bail.

At twenty-eight, Katniss finally felt ready to do things for herself. Before this, there was never the time. She was raising her sister Prim and taking care of her mother for more than a decade since her father’s passing. Now, Prim was in her second year of medical school where she received full funding for her work, and her mother has a live-in aide to help her with her daily needs. She finally did not have to spend all of her time focusing on school and work and money and bills, and without Prim nearby, she felt lonely. Her friends had convinced her to start going on dates, but after months of failed attempts, she still had nothing to show for it.

“Is it me, Jo?” she responded, “Do I just attract these weirdos?”

“Oh, shut up, brainless. You've been going on dates for a few months. Maybe if you gave yourself a little more practice when we were younger it’d be easier, but some people take years to find something that sticks. You’re hot. You’re smart. You’re caring. Maybe a little hard to swallow with the scowl, but anyone that gets to know the real you is gonna love you.”

She sighed, “Okay.”

“You wanna come over here? I was just going to watch some Dexter reruns, but there’s plenty of room on this couch for two.”

“Actually, I think I need a drink. I’ll let you know what I’m doing after.”

Katniss’s conversation with Johanna ended shortly after, and she made her way into the pub.

The pub was crowded, a symptom of it being a Friday evening in the winter, and Katniss had to shuffle past a group of freshly legal college students to make it to the bar. She wanted something simple, something just to take the edge off, and was quickly handed her rum and coke.

Eager to people-watch while she nursed her drink, Katniss scanned the crowd for an empty seat. Most of the tables seemed to be taken up by a larger group, but a single chair at a small table in the corner of the room was wonderfully vacant. Katniss closed her tab and swiftly made her way across the room.

As she approached, she stopped in her tracks. Hidden from her initial view was a man sitting on the other side of the table, somewhat hunched over with a book in his hands. Before she could backtrack and look for another open seat, he picked his head up and locked eyes with her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was gonna sit here but didn’t realize you were already here. I’ll just…” her voice trailed off. Katniss had a habit of not finishing her sentences when she was flustered, and after meeting the man’s gaze, she was very flustered. Not only was she not expecting someone to be sitting at the table, but now that he was looking at her, his blue eyes piercing through to her even under the pub’s dim lights, she realized he was around her age and absolutely hot. Her hands began to sweat, and her tongue started to feel like lead.

The man smiled, an endearing smile that quirked more on the left side of his face, highlighting a sole dimple on his cheek. “Don’t worry about it. You can sit here,” He replied, his eyes scanning the room. “Besides, it doesn’t look like there’ll be much room anywhere else.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, and he nodded. “Thank you so much. I promise I won’t even bother you. We don’t even have to talk or anything…” Katniss said as she placed her bag on the table and took her seat.

Katniss started scanning the other patrons of the pub to observe their activities, but her eyes frequently darted back to the man seated across from her. She gathered more bits and pieces of his appearance in the brief moments she allowed herself to study his features. He had blond, curly hair that looked intentionally tousled. His shoulders were very broad, pulling the fabric of his navy henley taut across his chest. He had freckles across the bridge of his nose, and he drummed the table with his left hand while holding the book he was reading in his right.

After a few minutes, he lifted his eyes up from his book and offered her a soft smile. “My name is Peeta, by the way.”

“Katniss,” she said, offering a shy smile of her own.

“You know, I really don’t mind talking if you want to.”

Her grin grew. “Okay, then.” She paused, unsure of where to start, but her curiosity eventually got the better of her when she asked, “Can I ask why you’re reading a book at a crowded bar on a Friday night?”

Peeta chuckled, a laugh that let Katniss know he wasn’t offended. “You waste no time getting to the deep stuff. I actually just moved into my first solo apartment, and as much as I’m happy to have my own space, the silence feels kinda deafening.”

“Ah,” she began, appraising him up and down, “so you find comfort in the chaos.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. I grew up in a house with two older brothers, and the two of them used to practice wrestling no matter where they were. In the dining room, the backyard. One time they threw each other down the stairs,” he chuckled again, “Our mom wasn’t too happy about that one.”

“You’re joking,” Katniss laughed.

“Not even a little bit, I swear. And then I lived in a house with my three friends all the way through grad school. My best friend Finnick used to play eighties pop at all hours of the day. Think, like, Donna Summer or Cyndi Lauper on full blast at three in the morning.”

“And you guys never asked him to stop?” Katniss asked, finding she wanted to know more and more about him.

At this, Peeta hit her with a dead stare, his blue eyes piercing her with a combination of humor and seriousness. “See, that is something only someone who doesn’t know Finnick would ask. If we made any attempts to get him to stop this relatively-harmless-if-not-mildly-annoying behavior, we would only trigger severely worse outcomes for us all.”

“And you said this is your best friend?” Peeta let out a boisterous laugh in reply.

While sitting with Peeta, Katniss found the guard she had put up during her date with Cato had come crashing down.

They spoke about their jobs. Katniss explained how she works as a forest ranger, but she hopes to finish school to become an environmental engineer. Peeta said that he just finished graduate school to become a doctor of architecture.

“I really liked art, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy my parents or pay the bills, so I tried to do the next best thing I could think of.”

“So you became a literal doctor? In a field that’s focused on math and design? Are you a genius?”

“Time Magazine did call me the reincarnation of Albert Einstein.”

“Hm. And to think I placed you more as a Michelangelo.”

They spoke about their families. Katniss spoke about her mom and Prim. She bragged about her sister’s accomplishment in getting a full ride to a great medical school across the country. She felt so comfortable with Peeta, she didn’t even shy away from speaking about her late father, even if it was in the briefest of terms. Peeta nodded his head as she spoke, squeezing her hand across the table when he sensed certain details were particularly hard for her to get out. Peeta, the son of bakers, grew up really close with his older brothers. His oldest brother took over the family business, and while Peeta loves baking, he enjoys it more as a hobby than a career.

This seamlessly led to them speaking about their childhoods. Katniss was mostly shy, harboring two friends, Madge and Gale, through her schooling, despite her being a star on her school’s track and archery teams. University allowed her to come out of her shell and meet friends that didn’t matter her reticent personality, like Johanna. Peeta wrestled, painted, did debate team, and wrote. He had a solid group of friends during school, but he found his lifelong friends in college.

They spoke about the little things. Their favorite colors. Favorite snacks. Movies. Shows. And their answers were so similar across all categories, they had a near total eclipse on a venn diagram of each topic. Their responses were so alike that, at one point, Katniss plastered her face with her signature scowl Peeta had not yet been acquainted with, asking him if he was being totally honest with his responses.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, “Look, that scowl is too intimidating for me to not come clean. So the truth is, I’ve been being honest this entire time.”

Before Katniss realized, nearly two hours had gone since she first sat down with Peeta. They fell into a comfortable silence, and she studied his features more in the muted light. She tried to picture what he looked like out of this setting. Hunching over a sketchbook. Cooking in his kitchen. Laughing with his friends. Cheering on his nephews at their little league games.

She studied the way the dim light caught onto the golden strands of his eyelashes, becoming mesmerized by the way they fluttered against his cheek when he blinked. She didn’t even realize she was staring until he spoke again, causing her to jump slightly.

“So what about you?” He asked, a small grin on his lips.

“What about me?”

“Well, before you asked what I’m doing at a bar alone on a Friday night. But what are you doing alone here on a Friday night so that I, a stranger, was able to take up so much of your time?”

Katniss contemplates what she should say, unsure if she should reveal her failed date with Cato. But as Peeta looked at her with sincerity in his eyes, she has the hunch that she could really trust him.

“If I’m honest, I came here because I had left a really, really bad first date,” she responded sheepishly.

Peeta cocked his left eyebrow expectantly. “How bad?”

“Well… it was so bad I made my best friend call me and say she was having an emergency with her fake baby to give me a reason to bail,” Katniss blurted out, her tone hitching at the end to make her statement sound more like a question. Like she was questioning if she really did that herself.

Both of Peeta’s eyebrows were raised, his eyes glinting with amusement, lips curling in to stop him from laughing. “You’re kidding me,” he managed to croak out.

“In my defense, he only spoke about his college football experiences, and after I started leaving to go help my friend with her fake baby, he still asked if we were having sex later!”

At this, Peeta burst out laughing, and after Katniss realized exactly what she said, she joined him. As Katniss clutched her stomach, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes, she almost missed what Peeta said next.

“That’s why I’ve kind of given up on dating.”

“Given up?” Katniss asked, her voice airy from her recent laughter and something silly like concern that she might have been wrong about the connection she felt with him all night.

“In grad school, every date I went on just didn’t have any spark. They were just mediocre. Then, I got so busy with trying to finish my degree, I just gave up on the whole thing.” For the first time that night, Peeta responded without meeting her gaze.

She’s not sure what made her say it. Maybe it was the second rum and coke she had gotten while talking with Peeta. Maybe it was that she felt like she had nothing left to lose after her first failed date of the night. Or, maybe it was because she knew she’d majorly regret if she didn’t try to continue with the something that she felt burning between her and Peeta, but she had to say it.

“I find that hard to believe considering this is probably the closest thing I’ve had to a good date in what feels like forever.”

At this, Peeta drew his head back in what appeared to be shock. His eyes met her again, an indecipherable expression plastering his features as he searched hers. Katniss shifted in her chair, somewhat uncomfortable with his unreadable scrutiny.

Finally, Peeta’s features relaxed. and he looked Katniss right in the eye with a neutral, if not somewhat strained, expression. “Tell you what,” he began, “I have to go to the bathroom, but when I come back, I’ll ask you out for real.”

Katniss shot him a curious expression, but as Peeta began to move, it clicked. He did not stand from his seat – he wheeled back from the table, towards the back of the bar with the bathrooms. His left pant leg tied off just below the knee. Katniss understood: he wanted her to see everything about him before she agreed to go on a date with him. He was giving her an out.

At this, Katniss’s gut twisted, both with regret and butterflies. She felt somewhat bad for him, wondering if this was a move he made from being rejected for his physical condition before. Wondering how anyone could do that to anyone, let alone a guy like Peeta. But overpowering this feeling were the butterflies. He liked her. He wanted her to see all of him. He was laying his insecurities bare for her. Most importantly, he already trusted her. In mind, body, and spirit, he couldn’t be any more beautiful.

A minute later, Peeta emerged from the bathroom, a goofy grin plastered across his face to perfectly match hers.

As soon as he reached the table, the words came tumbling out of Katniss’s mouth before she could stop them.

“So, I’m free all weekend. What do you have in mind?”

[redtsundere-writes]

Out Of My League | Heartsteel Kayn / Rhaast

Heartsteel Kayn / Rhaast x f!reader

Part 1: Facecheck.

Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Sypnosis: A chronically online girl doesn´t know that her Discord friend may be someone she already knows.

Contents: Modern AU, High school AU, a lot of bad jokes and meme references. No warnings.

Word count: 2023 (omg this year)

Author's Note: So... this gremlin's birthday was yesterday and since he has been on my mind lately. I decided to write him a fic cause why not?

Thanks to @mclovin1803 for helping me with proofreading and picking a title. (If this is out of charcater, blame him)

You were the exact definition of an introvert. You weren't good at talking to people you didn't know, your social battery doesn't last long, and you get excited when your friends cancel plans at the last minute. You like your loneliness and spending the afternoon playing video games and your guitar.

As an introvert, you didn't have many friends aside from a few classmates and some family members you were close with. Luckily, you had several friends on Discord. Among them was someone by the username of Rhaast. You didn't chat with him often because he wasn't as chronically online as you were, but he knew you were always down to play League of Legends with him.

One night while you were comfortably playing the new Super Mario Wonder on the switch, you received a message from Rhaast.

@Rhaast: League?

It had been two weeks since you had last played together, so you put the Switch aside and accepted. You opened League and put your headphones on to hop on the call with your friend.

"Hello there," you greeted him like Obi Wan as you waited for Rhaast to enter the game. He laughed at the reference. He had a deep, kinda seductive voice. You didn't know for sure if he was pretending or if he really talked like that.

"How have you been?," you asked while looking for your nightly playlist on Spotify to set the mood.

"Great. Yesterday I went out with a girl and today I broke up with her." You rolled your eyes at the comment. You knew Rhaast was quite the heartbreaker for discarding women like they were underwear. Personally, you didn't like that about your friend.

"And now why did you break up with this one,?" you asked as you started the game.

"I only went out with her once and she was already bugging me. My phone kept ringing because of her, so I blocked her," Rhaast answered with a chuckle. “Thank God I'll never date this asshole,” you thought.

"I wish there were more girls like you. You wait for me to send you a message and you are always down to play with me." He said while locking in Zed as his champion while you locked in Qiyana.

"I’m always down to play with you because I don't have any friends, not because I like you." You kamikazed by words.

"Damn, and I thought you had a crush for me," Rhaast joked. "Come to think of it, you never tell me anything about your love life," He suggested so he could hear some gossip.

"I haven't told you because I don't have any," you said, pretending to cry. Rhaast laughed at your foolish performance.

"Come on, you must have at least a crush or something," he insisted curiously as the game began. There was no one you liked... but someone caught your eye.

You felt like a fool for getting nervous every time you saw Kayn and his group of friends walk past you in the hallways. Kayn was a popular kid from a higher grade. He was good at sports, had good grades, was a member of an upcoming band, and was always surrounded by friends, while you were the complete opposite. You knew you shouldn't be nervous seeing him around because there was no chance that he would have the slightest interest in you. The majority of girls in your class drooled over him, so he was free to choose whoever he wanted. Why would he choose you?

Also, you had no good reason to go over and talk to him. The only chance you had, you blew it. You still cringe at yourself at night when you remember that moment. In your first days of high school, you had no friends and you just started learning to play guitar. When you tried to leave the music room that day, you ran into a tall boy with pink hair, perfect black eyebrows that indicated the true color of his hair, piercings decorating his ears, a pointy nose and a magnificent athletic body. Everything about him could catch anyone's attention but his most striking feature was his beautiful eyes with heterochromia, his left eye was green and the right; red. You were a moth and he was an RGB lightbulb that demanded your attention.  

You stood paralyzed infront of him. You clutched your music sheet notebook to your chest in nervousness. He was way too attractive and you didn't know how to feel about it. You tried to greet him but only stutters came out of your mouth. It was true that you weren't good at starting conversations but you had never been at a loss for words.

"Can you move? I want to get in," he asked while looking at you as if you were an inferior being.

"Ah... Yes-s, I'm s-sorry." You couldn't help your stutter as you stepped aside so he could enter the room. The Adonis didn't say anything else, but your eyes were still glued on him. The boy saw you watching him without shame.

"Can I help you with something?" He asked directly. You quickly shook your head and ran out of the room. “You are so stupid, you made yourself look like you have never seen a man!” You thought embarrassed as you felt your face getting hot. This was definitely your canon event.

One day, Rhaast sent you an ad. Riot was hosting a promotional convention for players at the capital at the end of the month.

@Rhaast: You goin'?

You: Maybe, sounds good.

@Rhaast: Let me know if you goin'.

You: Are you?

@Rhaast: If you go, I'll go.

You: K.

Thus the days passed until the day of the event arrived. You got ready with your best clothes: A K/DA sweatshirt, freshly washed pants, and the least dirty sneakers you had. You left your apartment nervously to finally touch some grass and meet your friend in real life. After a tedious subway ride, you arrived at the convention center where the event was taking place.

You: I'm here. Where are you?

@Rhaast: Wait for me at the entrance. I'm almost there.

You saw that there were several people waiting for their respective friends at the entrance, so you decided to stay in that area. You waited patiently while playing on your phone until you heard some girls next to you get excited.

"Look, it's Kayn, he looks so good!" They whisper to each other. You looked up quickly when you heard that name and, sure enough, the Adonis was there. “What is Kayn doing here?!” you thought as you tried to hide behind your phone as if you pretended he wasn't there, but your eyes traveled quickly between the screen and him. He was wearing a black crop with a jacket on top, tight pants and silver chains on his neck, fingers and waist. “Oh no, he's hot!” You thought nervously, wanting to run away. Your heart wasn't taking it.

You felt envious when the girls next to you didn't hesitate to approach him. Seeing the confidence they had to greet and talk to him, you felt that they had already known each other before. “I wish I could do that,” you thought.

"I didn't know you played League." One of the girls commented.

"I don´t play much," Kayn answered without taking much notice. Looking cool as heck.

"Are you here alone?" The other girl asked.

"Well, I'm meeting with a friend. I'll call her, " he said while searching for his friend's contact on his phone.

*Incoming call from Rhaast*

Out of nowhere, your phone started ringing from an incoming call on Discord. It was Rhaast. “No way,” you thought as you looked at Kayn and your cell phone simultaneously. “No, this must be a coincidence” you thought before answering.

"I'm here, where are you?" Your knees felt weak as Kayn spoke the words he was hearing over the phone. “Kayn is Rhaast?!” you thought in disbelief.

Kayn quickly found you and your eyes met. The last time that happened was a year ago. You knew Rhaast for over two years. That meant that Kayn, the cutest boy in school, had heard your horrible jokes, your fangirl screams when you saw Faker at almost every World Cup, and your burps for two years. You wanted the earth to swallow you whole at that moment.

"Oh, there she is. See ya," he hung up the call and said goodbye to his friends. He approached you while you were dying internally. You were lucky a wall was holding you up because you were sure you were going to pass out at any moment. “Breathe, maybe he doesn't remember you,” you thought.

"Hey! Why didn't you tell me we went to the same school, snake girl?" he joked. You covered your face in shame with your hands. “He does remember!” You thought, defeated. You still didn't believe that Kayn was still talking to you.

"Shut up, Rhaast… I mean, Kayn." You said, pulling your face out of its hiding spot. Kayn smiled, looking at your blushing cheeks.

"So you know me," he said confidently.

"How can I not know you? My classmates can't stop talking about you," you said defensively.

"I don't mean that," he said as he brought his face closer to yours. You backed up as far as the wall would allow you.

"Just look at you, you're crazy for me." He mocked in a flirting way. You couldn't help but to blush once again.

He was right, not only did he caught your eye, you liked him. You liked him more than you thought. Not because he was the popular Kayn, who is in a band and all the girls fight over him, but because he was also Rhaast. The one guy who laughed at your horrible jokes, the one who didn't criticize you every time you screamed when you saw Faker and burped when you did to match your energy.

"Ha! Says the guy that I always carry,” you mocked him back. Kayn laughed. That laugh that made you feel better in the small corner of your room.

"That's my girl!" He said before taking your hand. You blushed at the unexpectedly intimate act. His hand gently squeezed yours to guide you to the convention entrance.

You spent the whole afternoon chatting and spending all your money on merchandise. You got to know Kayn better than you ever thought. He was a little bit blunt, but nicer than you pictured. It was like you were seeing the other side of Rhaast. Kayn also got to know you on another level when you started to feel comfortable around him. You were a girl with whom he could see himself talking for many hours everyday without getting bored, something he had not felt with anyone else.

You and Kayn said goodbye to a wonderful day together. Both felt their hearts beating like crazy for each other. You had spent the entire day together but you still missed each other once you parted ways. You arrived home and then threw yourself on the bed to start screaming about the exciting day you just had. You had finally talked to Kayn and he seemed to like you. And boy did he like you...

The next day, another school day had ended, so you decided to go to the music room. On your way, you saw Kayn and his friends heading towards the exit. Finally, you got the courage to do something you've always wanted to do.

"Hey, Kayn!" You called him from your place. He turned around to see you among the other students passing by in the hallway.

"Wanna play later?" You asked, blushing lightly for attracting his attention. His friends began to tease him that a girl was talking to him that way, but he didn't care. Kayn smiled as he saw you standing there, blushing but determined.

"You know I do!" He said before turning around and getting back with his friends. You smiled. Maybe he wouldn't have chosen you before, but now you had a chance. 

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Masterlist.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hello! I’ve been back and forth on writing you this bc I’m nervous but eh fuck it, I have no shame. So first off, I just want to say that you, Salome, are an absolutely stunning and brilliant writer. As someone who majored in classical studies in college, I was completely blown away by Fatum Nos Iungebit. The world you built was so deeply immersive and characterization of König, in that story as well as your other headcanons, is perfect. For the past week or so, I’m going to be honest, I’ve been going through your blog because I’ve been so hungry for more and the only reason I haven’t interacted more is that 1. I don’t wanna feel like a creep and 2. I was so scared of you blocking me for ‘’spam-liking” or whatever. I can assure you that I am a real person and I’ve been enjoying everything I’ve seen. I came across one concept however, that definitely got my neurons firing and that’s the idea of belly dancer reader x könig and I have some thoughts I wanted to share with you if that’s okay. :)

So I’ve been a belly dancer for almost a decade (I actually celebrate my ten year anniversary next year!). I was part of a belly dance performance troupe at my old university and I currently dance with a studio in my new city. It’s genuinely one of the great passions of my life. I’ve performed at all kinds of venues and for all different occasions from festivals to galas to charity events to hookah bars, so I definitely have some performing experience under my belt, well as what audiences are like. So when I saw the idea of König being mesmerized by a dancer at a wedding, I went !!!

I want to add the caveat that this is based on my experience as a dancer living in the US, and while I’ve performed for SWANA audiences (which is always an amazing experience 🥰) and non-SWANA audiences, I can’t speak for what it’s like in other countries. So, in my ✨personal✨ experience as a belly dancer going on a decade, it’s pretty rare that men will approach dancers during or after a performance—especially to actively hit on her. And believe it or not, it’s because many of them are actually intimidated! I have seen the most seemingly cockiest, proudest men just stare blankly and stand back while we do our thing. If anything, it’s usually women who approach us, gushing about our performances or asking where they can take classes and stuff. Women tend to be the first ones to get up and dance with us, shower us with tips, etc. (again, very much my personal experience as someone living in the US). When it comes to more family-friendly events like weddings and stuff, we also get a lot of kids approaching and that’s always so adorable and sweet—especially when the little babies think we’re princesses. 😭

So back to König, especially Y!König. 😈 he’s at the wedding. He’s mopey. He’s picking at his plate of chicken and rice. He’s happy for his friend and his bride, but a little bitter and jealous that he’ll never get to be that happy. Then, a mejance (essentially an entrance/overture piece of music) swells over the speakers and out comes the dancer, adorned in an Irina Sheyner number (she’s an absolutely STUNNING costume designer, plsplsplsPLS look her up 😭), veil flying behind her. She does her mejance, a drum solo, and at some point…she does a sword number. The level of control she has to be able to balance the sword on her head in impressive, but König can’t help but imagine what it would be like for to dance wielding his knives in hand. Finally, dancer opens up the floor and in typical faction brings out the bride and groom to dance with her, and then most of the other guests follow. Not König though. He hangs back and watches as this beautiful dancer holds the guests in the palm of her hand. Gone is the cocky, brutal soldier, and only the shy, anxious boy remains, the one who would always be left out of games at recess and who wasn’t invited to birthday parties. König has never been the dancing type, but he can’t even bring himself to offer her a few of the banknotes or dollars or whatever currency he’s using. He just stares, and she’s completely oblivious.

A while later, he’s getting ready to leave, when he spots Dancer. Her makeup and hair still done up, but she’s now fully cloaked and awkwardly lugging her suitcase and bags full of props and other equipment across the poorly paved parking lot. König zeroes in on her and before he knows it, he’s approaching her, asking her if she needs help carrying her stuff. Dancer, surprised but this gigantic man suddenly appearing before her, flashes a winning smile at him and says he can. König easily lugs the stuff to Dancer’s car. She thanks him profusely and just like that, she drives away.

It’s only a few hours later that the obsession starts to creep in. König, who’s ordinarily not a big social media user, is now checking the feeds and stories of his friends who attended the wedding. Finally, he comes across one friend who posted a video of themself with the dancer and tagged her Instagram. König can’t click on it fast enough and suddenly, he’s greeted by dozens of images and photos of Dancer. Some are adorably mundane. He finds out that Dancer teaches classes at a studio nearby, and some of the videos consist of dancer teaching basic moves to the camera. There are other videos of her at the local hookah bar, where she performs on a regular basis. König sees one particularly video of Dancer doing a piece of floor work, that same sword balanced proudly on her head as she’s propped back on her arms, her gorgeous hips undulating toward the sky. König feels a dark wave of heat wash over him. He jokingly thinks to himself that maybe he should take up hookah. But one thing is for certain, she’s going to be his one day. He’ll just have to be sneaky about it, subtle.

He clicks the follow button on Dancer’s instagram. She has a few thousand followers. Surely she can’t notice one faceless profile, right? 😈😈😈😈😈😈

Anyway, that’s all I have for now. I know you’re taking a break from fics but if you see this I want you to know you’re an amazing writer. Lots of love! 💖💖💖💖

Ughhh and another lovely soul 😭💗 I don't know what's going on in here this week but both you and anon have really made my heart swell!

And please please please, spam liking is never frowned upon here (I don't know why anyone would block someone who's clearly not a bot for loving your stuff?!) It's such a delight if I see that someone has liked a ton of things instead of just one. It's the highest compliment and praise! ❤️🥺

And your bellydancer prompt/drabble is so mouthwatering, god. If I'm being honest, I'd read whatever you wrote for this thing in a hot minute because you have the skill and you've done the research (an actual bellydancer in my inbox?! Ok Salome try not to be a creep) and the premise is just. GAH. So good, especially with yandere König! ❤️❤️❤️

I have to reveal I wrote like 8 chapters of a story relatively close to this in the fall: Stalker!König obsessing about reader, invading her DMs on Instagram and literally stalking her. She's not a bellydancer, but damn if I didn't think about changing her into one... :) The story is on hold for now, but here is a little snippet as a thank you gift!

CW: Yandere/Stalker!König, harassing, obsessive behavior

I’m sorry, Liebling. You were too beautiful yesterday. I got carried away.

You wake up just to see that your phone is full of messages. From him, of course. He’s created another account on Instagram.

I’m just a man.

You ignore it altogether, even if there’s messages and emails from other people too. You simply go to brush your teeth, hearing how the phone buzzes on your desk.

I know it was disrespectful. I could never call my wife that. Will you forgive me?

You sigh and finish with your morning routine, but the phone buzzes again.

I sent you flowers. Did you get them?

It’s like he knows when you’re awake, because you can see the messages from your screen without having to unlock it. Even if he refreshed your conversation every minute, every second, he can’t possibly see that you’ve seen them yet.

It bugs you to no end, this feeling that he somehow knows that you’re awake. It’s like he knows your every move. It’s the most unnerving thing, and makes you think about horrible scenarios where he has broken into your house while you’re at work, to install cameras or microphones or something. You feel like you’re about to go mad if this nightmare goes on.

You go to the front door, but hesitate a while before you turn the knob.

What if it’s a trap?

What if he wants to kill you because you yelled at him last night at the pub...? What if there’s a bomb or something that goes off when you open the door, what if he aims at you with a gun from across the street and kills you on your doorstep this morning?

Just what the actual fuck does this guy even want with you...

You sigh with a broken heart and some broken nerves, deciding it’s as good a way to go as any. You turn the knob and open the door, only to find the usual porch, and a large bouquet of dark red roses planted there.

More ice sinks into your stomach as you witness the evidence of him knowing where you live. But the fact that he chose to send red roses… Ugh, this guy is so old-fashioned and so unimpressive that it’s somewhat a dull surprise to actually see flowers on that porch.

Who buys red roses these days?

Couldn’t he have picked peonies or something, something to go with your other decor… Red roses are so eighties, so funeral-like, so boring.

You sigh and go and take the flowers to the trash. Then you walk back to your house, make sure the door is locked tight, and go back to your phone to type a message.

Did you see that?

The answer arrives immediately.

What? ❤️

I threw your flowers in the trash.

There’s bit of a pause after that. Your wannabe boyfriend clearly hasn’t got his eye on you at every given moment. That’s a bit of a surprise, almost a disappointment, actually. But only if you were any more crazy.

The reply comes after about 30 seconds, after a series of Typing… bumping up and down on the screen.

I’m sad.

You get some satisfaction from that, but the first reaction is a tiny, tiny dagger to the heart. You sigh – you do nothing but sigh these days – not only because of his message, but also because you can’t seriously be having a moment of compassion for your stalker, for god's sake.

You make me sad, Liebling 💔 Are you still angry with me?

You throw the phone away and go to make yourself some breakfast, only to stop and turn when you hear the phone buzz again.

I’ll send you more flowers.

Jesus…

You unlock the screen in a frenzy and type a reply in mere seconds.

Don’t bother. I’ll throw them in the bin too.

Typing…

You have to keep them at some point. Trash bins get full so soon.

STOP HARASSING ME.

You throw the phone away for good this time, and don’t come back to it for another hour. You eat your breakfast with squirming insides and a rattled heart, waiting for someone to come bring you flowers at any given moment.

But no one ever comes.

You check your phone before going to work, but there’s nothing from him there. You go and block his new profile, unsurprised to see that there are no pictures this time, not even a profile picture (well, there is one, but it’s only a black circle), just in case. You don’t know why you didn’t block him in the first place.

There’s a radio silence for a few days. You spend them at the edge of your seat, with lots of trouble sleeping, but soon start to ease into the fact that maybe he finally had enough. Maybe you were not as interesting or attractive as he thought when he met you in person…

Wait, what?

Gosh, you can’t be this desperate... You simply can’t. This has to end.

You don’t talk about him in therapy, mainly to convince yourself that you’re not thinking about him at all. You’re not missing him harassing and stalking you, and you’re not disappointed that he didn’t send you enough flowers to fill your entire bin.

You know you should address this: this crazy need to be something groundbreaking to someone. To want someone to be this obsessed with you, no matter how sick that someone was. You know you would have gone to the police if your stalker was the sleazy, weak-wristed man from the pub. You would’ve packed your bags and moved houses already, changed your name and closed your social media accounts, quit everything if your stalker was small and ugly and weak.

But now that you know he’s relatively good-looking, does something dangerous and has a lot of money, and looks like he could fuck and fight half the city by himself, you’re not in that much of a hurry to go to the authorities.

You’re even a bit sad that your stalker hasn’t given you any fevered attention these past few days... He hasn’t even asked you how you’ve been.

No one has asked you how you’ve been: no one ever does. You have to wade through this life all by yourself: depressed and anxious and crazy. Lonely… And horny.

Gods, you just want someone to hold you at night… Someone strong, and big, someone who would pay a few bills for you, take care of you and give you a round of good sex…

Your phone buzzes from time to time, but there’s no message from him. One night before going to sleep, relatively early, so early that it could be called the bedtime for old spinsters, you break down and cry a little. It’s not a wail: only a soft little sob, a few sniffles and a couple of tears until your nose gets clogged and the pillow is wet.

Your phone buzzes, and you reach for it, feeling so, so pathetic when you hope it would be him.

And the message is from him.

You’re the most beautiful woman on this earth. I know I fucked up. I’m just a horny dog and I don’t deserve you.

You sniffle and rise to sit, your whole system fully awake now. Oh god... You’re so fucked.

The message makes you feel incredibly good and sweet, almost giddy. It feels like he’s kneeled right there in front of you, like a knight who has misbehaved in the throes of his lust. You know it’s ridiculous, but you start to smile a little, and the tears dry on their own. The merry feeling is followed by righteous rage, a little fit, because he’s made you wait for days, he’s tortured you in every way possible, and he does absolutely nothing right.

You unlock the screen and start to type, not thinking it through at all before hitting send.

That’s right.

Fuck… Shit. That was a mistake. No, a huge error.

Why did you have to send that? Stooping to his level, sending stupid things like that…

You put the phone away quickly, then reach for it again to delete what you just send. But it’s too late.

I can be a good dog if you forgive me.

The message is waiting for you already, and when you don’t reply, the oppressive, ominous Typing… hits on the screen once more. God, how could you be so stupid…

I’ll kill anyone you need me to kill. I'll give you money, whatever you need. A new kitchen so you can cook me something nice? I’ll be a good dog, I promise.

What did you even expect?

Everything always blows up when you give him attention: any dumb person knows better than to give this hungry dog a bone. You’re just too fond of digging your own grave, it seems.

There’s no end to the messages: this guy starts typing a new one every time he has sent the last.

I’ll fuck you like a good dog too….

You lean your forehead to your palm, trying to figure out a way to stop this.

And then–

Fuck, now I’m hard

You take a quick breath of air and put the phone away.

Please don’t send a dick pic, please don’t send a dick pic…

The phone buzzes.

Look how hard you make me

There’s a picture attached, but you can’t see it when the screen is locked.

This is what I have to live with, day and night…

Message after message, your phone buzzes, and you check them quickly from your screen, swearing to yourself that you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of opening the conversation and checking the image he sent you. You know perfectly well what you will find if you do that.

But after only a minute or two, you unlock the phone, and open the conversation with your heart ramming in your chest.

Just one quick look...

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices/BTR Book 2: a Jhea fanfic.

Chapter 20: YOU LIED, Pt. 3

Dedicated to Mr. Willow Chase.. you are stronger than you think… Proverbs 24:5-14

WARNINGS: Death, mention of gang rape, choking..

6:18PM

Rhea pulled back from the dry erase board, her shoulders stiff from hours of writing and piecing together fragments of her past. The chaotic scrawl of dates, places, and vague memories filled the board like a jigsaw puzzle missing key pieces. She turned to check on the others, only to see that Jey, Jon, and Trinity had dozed off on the couch, exhaustion etched on their faces.

She approached them and snapped her fingers in their faces, trying to wake them. Trinity was the first to stir, blinking groggily as she sat up. Her eyes fell on the timeline, and she stood, rubbing her temples as she examined the mess of interconnected moments.

Jon and Jey woke up shortly after, both groaning softly as they stretched and shook off their sleep. Trinity stepped closer to the board, tracing her finger over the timeline. “We need more of Demetri,” she said, her voice thoughtful but firm.

Rhea hesitated, crossing her arms protectively. “I can’t remember,” she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with frustration. “Even before my brain injury, I had blocked most of it out. I don’t even know where to start.”

Trinity nodded, understanding but undeterred. “You know they say certain triggers help bring back memories,” she suggested gently, glancing at the board again as if it might hold the answers they needed.

Jey stepped in, his tone supportive but cautious. “Yeah, babe, maybe we could try visiting Orlando tomorrow. Seeing the places you’ve been… maybe it’ll help jog something.”

Rhea turned to him, her jaw tightening with determination. “Why not today?” she challenged.

Jey closed the distance between them, his hands gently resting on her shoulders. His voice softened, though his words were firm. “Because I don’t want a lot of stress toward our child. We’re already dealing with enough. We’ll take it one step at a time, alright?”

Rhea’s resolve faltered slightly at his words, and she placed a hand over her stomach, instinctively protective. “Okay,” she finally relented, her voice brimming with defeat.

Jon chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. “Plus, we’ll all need our energy. Today was already mental enough..”

Trinity nodded, grabbing Rhea’s hand. “We’ve got your back. We’ll figure this out together.”

Rhea glanced at the timeline one last time, her eyes lingering on Demetri’s name. The shadows of her past felt closer than ever, but with Jey, Jon, and Trinity by her side, she took a small breath of courage. Tomorrow, they’d face it head-on once more.

7:56 PM

The scent of pork chops and buttery mashed potatoes drifted faintly into the guest bedroom, but Rhea hardly noticed. She lay on her side, cradled protectively in Jey’s arms, but her thoughts churned with a growing unease she couldn’t shake.

Her gaze lingered on the faint curve of her belly beneath her hand. Thirteen weeks. In just a few months, their child would be here—a new life, innocent and untouched by the chaos that seemed to follow her like a shadow. The thought should have brought her peace, but instead, it filled her with dread.

“I just want this all over before the baby arrives,” she whispered, her voice trembling despite her effort to keep it steady.

Jey’s hand moved to rest over hers, his warmth grounding her for a moment. “I do too,” he replied softly, his lips brushing against her bare shoulder. The gentle kiss was meant to soothe her, but Rhea couldn’t stop the spiral of thoughts spinning faster in her mind.

Her voice cracked as she admitted, “I’m scared, Jey.”

Jey tightened his hold on her, his presence strong and unwavering. “I’m here,” he said firmly, as though the weight of his words alone could hold back the storm gathering inside her.

Rhea shook her head slightly, tears welling in her eyes. “What if it doesn’t stop? What if we can’t figure this out in time?” Her voice wavered, and she pressed her hand to her stomach again, as if trying to shield their unborn child from the fear coursing through her.

“Babe, listen to me.” Jey shifted, sitting up slightly so he could look into her eyes. “We’re gonna stop this. Whatever it takes, whoever’s behind it—we’ll find them. You’re not doing this alone.”

Rhea’s chest tightened. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to lean fully into his strength and let his certainty drown out her fears, but her mind kept flashing back to the eerie video, the distorted voice, the Polaroids. Every unsettling image from the past few days felt like a threat aimed directly at the fragile life she was carrying.

“What if I can’t keep you safe?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jey cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down her cheek. “You’ve been through hell, Rhea, but you’re still standing. You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone, least of all me. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, but you don’t have to carry this fear by yourself.”

Rhea closed her eyes, her breathing shaky as she leaned into his touch. “I just… I don’t want our baby to grow up in all this madness,” she murmured.

“And they won’t,” Jey said with quiet determination. “This ends before they ever take their first breath. I promise you that.”

The conviction in his voice brought a flicker of calm to Rhea’s restless thoughts. She clung to his words like a lifeline, though the shadows of doubt still lingered at the edges of her mind.

From the kitchen, Trinity called out, “Dinner’s ready!”

Jey smiled faintly, leaning down to kiss Rhea’s temple. “Let’s eat, yeah? You’ve got to keep our baby strong.”

Rhea managed a small smile, her hand tightening over his. “I’ll try.”

Jey helped her sit up, his steady presence anchoring her. As they made their way to the dining room hand in hand, Rhea couldn’t help but glance back at the timeline on the board, where her growing fears had felt so overwhelming. She knew they had to act fast. Time wasn’t on their side, and the clock seemed to tick louder with each passing moment.

—

After dinner, the tension in the house slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a quiet sense of normalcy. Jey and Rhea had retreated to the guest bathroom to wind down for the evening. The sound of beach and the faint hum of the bathroom fan filled the small space as Rhea stood in front of the mirror, brushing her damp hair.

As she combed through the strands, she noticed a few inches of her natural blonde roots beginning to show beneath the black dye. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. It was a reminder of a simpler time—before wrestling, before fame, before all of this chaos.

Jey, standing beside her with his toothbrush in hand, watched her reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He could tell she was lost in thought, the small smile on her face masking something deeper.

He spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth before asking, “You okay?” His voice was gentle but laced with concern.

Rhea hesitated for a moment, then shrugged, trying to downplay her emotions. “Potato, tomato,” she replied lightly, a vague answer that Jey had heard from her before when she didn’t want to get into the details.

Jey frowned and turned to face her, placing a reassuring hand on her waist. “Demi,” he said softly, using her real name to ground her, “we’re going to get through this, okay? I don’t care what it takes—I’ll protect you, and our baby, no matter what.”

Rhea set her brush down on the counter and looked up at him, her cyan eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It’s just… so much,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I feel like we can’t even breathe without something or someone trying to rip us apart.”

Jey pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she rested her head against his chest. “I know,” he murmured, stroking her back gently. “But you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me, Jon, Trin, all of us. We’re a team, babe. And you—” he pulled back slightly to look her in the eyes—“are the strongest person I’ve ever met. We’re going to come out on the other side of this, and we’ll be stronger for it. Believe that.”

Rhea let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words sinking in. “I’m trying,” she said quietly. “I just… I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

“You won’t,” Jey promised, his voice steady and unwavering. “Not me, not the baby, not this family. We’ve got you, and I’ve got us. Always.”

Rhea closed her eyes and nodded, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability in his arms. She looked up and gave him a small peck on the lips as she broke the embrace, she made her way to the bed as Jey lingered in the doorway, his lips curving into a soft smile as he looked at the woman he loved. Her posture was relaxed, but he could sense the storm of emotions beneath her calm exterior. He stepped further into the room, his phone in hand, an idea already forming in his mind.

“Let me cheer you up,” he said, his voice smooth and full of affection.

Rhea raised a brow, her lips twitching into a curious smirk. “What do you mean?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as she watched him scroll through his playlist.

“You’ll see,” Jey replied with a teasing glint in his eyes.

Rhea sighed and ran her fingers through her damp hair. “I feel like you’re always having me dance with you,” she teased, though her tone was warm.

Jey grinned as he found the perfect song. “Some couples have their thing—eating together, watching movies, whatever. But you and me, babygirl? We’ve got dancing,” he said confidently.

As the gentle melody of Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley filled the room, Rhea’s playful smirk softened into something deeper. She let out a quiet laugh. “You’re such a sap,” she murmured, shaking her head.

“And you love me for it,” Jey quipped as he stepped closer, holding out his hand.

Rhea rolled her eyes but placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up. Jey wrapped his arms around her, his touch firm yet tender as they began to sway to the timeless tune. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated their faces, the romantic atmosphere wrapping around them like a cocoon.

Jey leaned in, his forehead pressing gently against hers as he hummed along to the music. “See? This is us,” he said quietly, his voice a low murmur. “We don’t need anything else. Just this.”

Rhea let out a shaky breath, her heart swelling as she gazed up at him. “You’re impossible,” she whispered, but her hands slid around his neck, pulling him closer.

Their lips met in a kiss that was slow and tender, a perfect reflection of the song’s lyrics. Rhea felt the weight of the world lift just slightly as Jey’s love surrounded her. She tugged him down onto the bed, their bodies sinking into the plush comforter as the music played on.

Jey pulled back slightly, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. His dark eyes searched hers, filled with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “I was serious when I said I want to marry you,” he said softly, his words carrying the weight of his devotion.

Rhea’s eyes glistened as she reached up, cupping his face with her hands. “I know,” she whispered. “And I’d do anything for you, Jey. Anything.”

The two of them stayed like that, locked in each other’s gaze as the song faded into the background. Time seemed to stop as they lay together, their love palpable and unshakable, a beacon of hope in the chaos surrounding them.

The serene intimacy between Rhea and Jey shattered like glass as the sound of a loud crash echoed through the house, followed by a terrified scream. Rhea’s heart leaped into her throat as she sat up quickly, her pulse hammering in her ears.

“What the hell was that?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Jey was already moving, his instincts taking over. He dropped to the floor, reaching under the bed where he knew his father had kept an old pistol, a tradition his father had instilled ever since Solofa himself had experience several break ins. His movements were quick but deliberate, his expression grim as he retrieved the weapon.

“Stay here,” he ordered, his voice low but firm.

“Jey—”

“No arguments, Rhea. Get under the bed and stay quiet,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Rhea hesitated, fear gripping her, but she nodded and slid beneath the bed as Jey cautiously approached the door. He cracked it open just enough to peek out, his grip on the pistol tightening.

From his vantage point, he could see his cousins—Jeremiah, Jacob, and Jerome—stomping on something, their movements frantic and violent. The sound of scuffling feet and muffled grunts filled the hallway.

“What the hell?” Jey muttered under his breath.

Just then, Jon poked his head out of his room, his expression mirroring Jey’s confusion. The two twins exchanged a silent nod before Jon moved toward the chaos, but Jey reached out to stop him.

“Wait,” Jey said, stepping out fully into the hallway. He raised his voice, commanding attention. “Hold up! What’s going on?”

The three cousins briefly paused their assault, Jerome breathing heavily as he glanced back at Jey. “Caught this asshole trying to break in,” he said, his tone dripping with fury.

Jerome bent down, flipping over the figure they’d been kicking. The man groaned in pain, dressed in all black from head to toe. A weapon—a sleek, black knife—clattered to the floor as Jerome kicked it out of reach.

“Who is he?” Jey demanded, his voice tense as he kept the pistol aimed, ready for anything.

Jeremiah reached down, grabbing the intruder’s mask and yanking it off in one swift motion. Everyone froze as the face of a pale, unfamiliar man was revealed. His nose and mouth were bleeding, and one eye was already swelling shut, but his expression was eerily calm.

“Do any of you know him?” Jey asked, his voice tight.

The cousins shook their heads, their eyes fixed on the stranger. Jerome gripped the man’s arms tighter, ensuring he couldn’t escape.

The man smirked despite his injuries, his eyes flicking up to meet Jey’s. “You don’t know me,” he said, his voice raspy but laced with arrogance. “But I know all about you.”

Jey’s stomach turned as a chill ran down his spine. He tightened his grip on the pistol, his protective instincts flaring as his thoughts immediately turned to Rhea and the baby.

“Who the fuck sent you?” Jey demanded, his voice sharp and filled with authority.

The man chuckled darkly but didn’t answer, his silence only fueling the tension in the hallway.

Jon stepped forward, his hands clenched into fists. “Answer him, or I swear you’re gonna wish you never showed up here.”

The man’s smirk widened, his expression unreadable. “You’re already too late,” he said cryptically.

Jey’s blood ran cold at the words. He glanced back again toward the bedroom where Rhea was hiding, his mind racing.

Jey’s heart dropped into his stomach as the man, still pinned by Jerome, laughed maniacally. His eyes locked onto the man’s smug expression, feeling a surge of anger rise within him. As Jeremiah stepped forward to search the man, the tension in the room grew.

The man, undeterred by the circumstances, casually spoke. “How’s Demi doing? Is she having pregnancy cravings yet?”

Before Jey could stop himself, he stepped forward, his fist flying into the man’s face with a force that echoed through the room. “You don’t fucking get to talk about her!” Jey spat, his voice low and seething with rage.

The man didn’t flinch, still grinning wickedly. His face was bruised, but his defiance remained. Jeremiah paused in his search, a piece of paper unfolding in his hands. Jey’s gaze flicked to it, and his heart stopped.

It was a Polaroid—another one. But this time, it was a photo of Rhea, asleep in her hospital bed, looking fragile and vulnerable the night she miscarried back in September. The image was horrible, heinous, haunting. His stomach twisted with a mixture of horror and fury.

Jey lunged toward the man, ready to do whatever it took to make him talk. But Jon was quicker, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him back.

“Wait, Jey!” Jon’s voice was firm, but the urgency in it was clear. “We need to call the police.”

Jey struggled, his muscles tense with fury. “Fuck the police! This bastard’s part of whatever sick game they’re playing with us!” he snapped, his voice trembling with barely-contained rage.

The man chuckled darkly, his grin widening. “And I’ll never fucking tell,” he taunted, his words dripping with venom.

In the distance, the unmistakable wail of sirens grew louder. Jey’s mind raced, the adrenaline coursing through him. He wanted to end this here and now, but the sound of approaching sirens meant the situation was no longer in their hands.

As the sirens neared, the man locked eyes with Jey one final time. His smile was cold and filled with malice. “Bye, Joshua,” he said with chilling finality, as though he knew something Jey didn’t.

Jey stood frozen, his blood running cold at the sound of his name leaving the man’s lips. It felt like a warning, an ominous whisper in the dark. The sirens grew louder, but in that moment, all Jey could think about was the connection between this man and whatever twisted force was after him and Rhea.

—

As the cops marched the man out of the beach house, the air was thick with tension. The family watched silently from the porch, their faces a mixture of anger and unease. Rhea stood by the bedroom window, her hand trembling as she parted the curtain just enough to see what was happening outside.

Her eyes met his.

The man’s smirk widened as he spotted her. His dark, calculating gaze pierced through the night, holding hers in a way that made her stomach churn. Time seemed to freeze as he lifted his bound hands slightly and blew her a mocking kiss.

Rhea’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding violently against her chest. She stumbled back from the window, her hand flying to her mouth in horror. The room spun around her, the overwhelming cocktail of fear, nausea, and anger crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Gripping the edge of the dresser to steady herself, she felt her knees weaken. “No, no, no,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head as if to ward off the image seared into her mind. But her body betrayed her—her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor.

Jey’s voice called faintly from the hallway, but it was too late. Rhea’s world faded to black as her mind pulled her into a flashback, dragging her back to a moment she had long buried deep in her memory.

—

Flashback – May 26, 2022 10:22 PM

“Three hundred thousand. Just like you requested.” Brent’s voice cut through the smoky air of the cramped apartment. He stood rigidly with Adam and Thomas, their nervous energy palpable.

Demetri leaned back on the torn couch, his blunt resting lazily between his fingers as he opened the duffel bag placed before him. The room smelled of stale weed and cheap cologne, the faint hum of city traffic filtering through the cracked window.

As Demetri rifled through the stacks of cash, he glanced up, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto Adam. He gestured with the burning blunt, the embers glowing in the dim light. “You were short last week. How the fuck did you scrape up a hundred thousand dollars this time?”

Adam hesitated, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “My cousin Matthew… He just started wrestling and loaned me the cash.” His voice wavered slightly, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Demetri let out a low, humorless laugh, the sound sending an uncomfortable ripple through the room. He took a long drag, exhaling slowly as he looked at Brent when Brent spoke. “And she’s out cold?”

Demetri nodded. “Yeah, gave her Ambien. She won’t feel a thing.”

With the three men satisfied, Demetri returned to counting the money, his focus solely on the stacks in front of him. “Good,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

The three men exchanged a tense glance before Brent motioned toward the hallway. Adam and Thomas followed him to the master bedroom. Adam, clearly the most hesitant of the trio, reached for the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open.

Inside, the room was dimly lit by the glow of a small bedside lamp. Rhea lay sprawled on the bed, her breathing slow and even, the effects of the Ambien evident. Her usually vibrant energy was absent, her body unnaturally still.

Adam hesitated, his hand lingering on the doorframe as he swallowed hard. Brent stepped forward, his gaze cold and calculating as he assessed the scene. Without saying a word, he entered the room, followed closely by Thomas.

Demetri’s voice echoed faintly from the living room as he continued counting his money, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather.

—

After three hours, Adam emerged from the bedroom, shirtless and drenched in sweat, his breathing slightly labored. He walked into the living room where Demetri lounged on the couch, casually flipping through TV channels with a new blunt resting between his fingers.

Demetri glanced up as Adam entered, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “You guys sound like you had fun,” he remarked, his tone dripping with amusement.

Adam returned the grin, nodding as he sank into the couch beside Demetri. “Did you film it?” Demetri asked. “Yeah..”Adam said as he grabbed a can of beer from the table, his fingers trembling slightly as he cracked it open.

After a few sips, Adam finally broke the silence. “Hey, I know she’s your girl, and you two have been together since, what… 2017? But—why’d you do it?”

Demetri paused mid-drag, the question hanging in the air. Slowly, he exhaled, the smoke curling around his face as he turned his head to look at Adam.

“You already know,” Demetri began, his voice calm, almost indifferent. “The deal with Morris went bad two weeks ago. Gotta make money somehow to get back in his good graces.”

Adam nodded hesitantly but pushed further. “But, like… I mean, you gotta love her, right? After all this time?”

At this, Demetri burst into laughter—a low, cruel chuckle that filled the room. “Love?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Hell no. You think I’m gonna love someone who had the nerve to say my brother Dustin was cute? Yeah, no. Actually,” he said, leaning forward to tap ash into the tray, “if we’re being honest, I never loved her.”

Adam frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “How could you be with someone for years if you don’t love them?”

Demetri took another long drag of his blunt, leaning back as muffled sounds from the bedroom filtered into the living room. He tilted his head toward the noise, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “You hear that?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway. “If I was really in love with her, you think I’d be doing this shit?”

He motioned to the coffee table, cluttered with cash, drugs, and a loaded pistol.

Adam remained silent, his unease evident as Demetri continued. “Let me tell you something, man. You just get used to in-house wife duties after a while. Cooking, cleaning, laundry—easy shit. Yeah, I gotta correct her every now and then, but that’s only ‘cause she gets too big for her britches, thinking she’s above me just ‘cause she makes legit money.”

Demetri leaned forward, his voice lowering as he picked up a stack of cash and fanned through it. “For as long as I live, she’ll always be a mattress. That’s all she is. A mattress I happen to own. Now… Valerie… she is the woman I want to bring around.. not Rhea.”

He tossed the cash back onto the table with a laugh. The sounds from the bedroom grew louder, but Demetri didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed his remote, turning the TV volume up as he took another drag.

— Next Day May 27, 2022 9:35 AM.

Rhea’s eyes fluttered open to the harsh morning light streaming through the curtains, her head pounding like a drum. She groaned, rubbing her temple as her surroundings slowly came into focus. The ache in her body was unbearable, and when she turned her head, she froze.

Her breath hitched as she saw three unfamiliar men sprawled across her and Demetri’s bed, their faces unfamiliar but their presence unmistakable. A nauseating realization crept over her, and her eyes widened in horror as she looked down at herself. The bruises, the scratches, the… dried sperm of three different men—everything was there.

Shaking, Rhea slid out of the bed, trying to suppress the bile rising in her throat. Her hands trembled as she grabbed the first set of clothes she could find and quickly dressed, her mind racing. She needed answers.

As she opened the bedroom door and stepped into the living room, she found Demetri lounging on the couch, his legs kicked up casually as if it were just another day. He looked up at her and smiled, an infuriatingly calm expression on his face.

“What did you do to me?” Rhea hissed, her voice trembling with rage and disbelief. She stormed toward him and shoved him with all her strength.

Demetri’s smile faltered as he stood, straightening to his full height, his cold eyes narrowing at her. “Watch it,” he said darkly, his tone low and threatening.

“What did you do to me?!” Rhea repeated, her voice louder this time, laced with both fury and desperation.

Demetri sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if her anger were an inconvenience. “You know the deal went bad with Morris,” he replied, his tone casual, like they were discussing the weather. “I had to repay him back. You should’ve seen this coming.”

Rhea clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought the urge to scream. “The deal went bad because you made promises you couldn’t keep! Now I’m going to ask you again—what the hell did you do to me?!”

A cruel laugh bubbled out of Demetri’s throat, venom dripping from every word. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “My beautiful, little mattress…”

Rhea flinched at the nickname, bile rising in her throat again.

“You’re going keep doing what I tell you to do,” Demetri continued, his lips curling into a sinister smirk. “And it looks like you need some correction.”He said as he grabbed her hair into a ball fist.

His words hung in the air like a dark cloud, suffocating her. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to fight, to run, to do something. But as Demetri towered over her, his hand tightening the grip on her hair, his dominance radiating from every fiber of his being, she felt paralyzed, the weight of everything crashing down around her.

Rhea’s breathing quickened as tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn’t believe the man she had loved—trusted—was capable of this. As Demetri threw the first punches into her face, his hand holding her steady so each punch could connect, Rhea realized one thing with absolute clarity: she couldn’t stay. She had to get out before he broke her completely.

Rhea pushed him with all her might away and Demetri’s eyes widened at the sudden push.

Demetri charged forward, aiming to grab her arms. Rhea sidestepped him swiftly, delivering a sharp elbow to his ribs. His grunt was loud but he recovered quickly, spinning to face her.

“Now you want to fight bitch?”

“I am no one’s fucking mattress!”

Demetri lunged forward again, this time locking one of her wrists. He twisted her arm behind her back, forcing her to her knees. Even with all of her power, she was struggling against his grip. Unbeknownst to her, Adam was calling the cops as Brent and Thomas were slowly climbing their way down out of the window.

With a burst of power, Rhea shifted her weight, slamming her foot into his knee. Demetri stumbled, loosening his grip as she became free, spinning around to deliver a swift punch to his jaw as it connected so perfectly.

Demetri staggered but didn’t go down. Fueled by frustration, he roared and rushes her, managing to tackle her onto the couch, sending couch pillows flying off of it.

Pinned beneath him, Rhea tries to use her legs to push off the armrest to flip them both onto the floor but it doesn’t work. He is on top, immediately grabbing her throat as he is choking her. Rhea uses her legs once more to kick him in the chest and Demetri falls back slightly as Rhea falls on to the floor but Demetri punches her in the chest, she screams in pain as he gets on top of her again, pinning his knees on her chest and his hands wrapping around her throat.

She is gasping, her vision is slowly shrinking. “Say hello to god..” Demetri grunted as he tightens the grip. Rhea’s eyes divert to the knife on the tv stand and she flutters her eyes back to Demetri. Demetri, hyper focused on Rhea, didn’t see Rhea grab the knife and when he saw her arm moved, he stopped as he felt cold steel go through his throat, effectively loosening the grip. Rhea attempted to regain her breathing, her marks on her face and throat becoming more visible.

Rhea's chest continue to heave as she tried to steady her breathing, her vision swimming as she glanced down at Demetri's lifeless body. Blood pooled beneath his neck, the crimson against the dull carpet turning her stomach. Her trembling fingers brushed her lips as she realized the weight of what had just happened. The sound of distant sirens drew closer, their wailing growing louder, more insistent.

Panic surged through her. She needed to think fast.

Rhea forced herself to her feet, ignoring the throbbing in her head and the ache in her body.

Her eyes darted around the room, landing first on the pile of drugs on the coffee table. She moved swiftly, grabbing the bags and stuffing them into the hollow light fixture above her head. The effort was sloppy but effective enough to buy her time.

She turned and spotted the duffel bag of money and the pistols near the couch. Her pulse quickened. Knowing she couldn't leave them out in the open, she staggered toward the bedroom, dragging the bag with her. The bed was still unmade from earlier, a grim reminder of what had transpired. With a grunt, she lifted the mattress just enough to shove the bag into the foundation's exposed hole, letting the mattress drop back down with a dull thud.

Her breathing quickened as the sound of sirens reached the building. Her head snapped toward the living room. The men—where had they gone?

A flicker of fear passed through her as she glanced toward the bedroom door, but there was no time to think about them now.

Steeling herself, Rhea stumbled back into the living room just as the door burst open, splintering off its hinges. Several officers stormed in, weapons drawn.

"Freeze!" one of them barked.

Rhea threw her hands up, her legs shaking beneath her. "I'm unarmed!" she shouted, her voice cracking.

The lead officer approached cautiously, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. The blood, the body on the floor, and Rhea standing with her hands raised-it painted a picture, but not one she could afford to let them believe.

"Ma'am, step forward slowly," the officer ordered.

Rhea did as she was told, her legs trembling as she moved toward them. Her mind raced, trying to come up with a story, a way out, a way to survive.

"What happened here?" another officer asked, gesturing toward Demetri's body.

Rhea swallowed hard, her throat dry. "It’s my boyfriend, he was hitting me and choking me," she stammered, tears forming in her eyes. "He was going to kill me. Please, you have to believe me."

The officers exchanged glances, their skepticism evident. One of them gestured for her to sit, and Rhea lowered herself onto the couch, her entire body trembling.

—

Present Time. February 22, 2025.

“Rhea!” Jey yelled, his voice tinged with panic as he gently shook her, trying to rouse her from the stillness. Her body was stiff, unresponsive, and drenched in a cold sweat, leaving him desperate.

Jon and Trinity worked quickly, but nothing seemed to help. The room felt suffocating. The air seemed thick with the fear they all shared as they tried to get through to her.

Suddenly, without warning, Rhea’s eyes snapped open. Her pupils dilated, and she gasped for breath, her chest heaving as if she had been underwater too long. The sound of her struggle to breathe was agonizing to hear, each ragged inhale making Jey’s heart race faster.

“Rhea! Baby, breathe!” Jey cried, his voice trembling.

Trinity shot a look at Jey, her own face tight with anxiety. “Get her a rag!” Jey shouted. Without wasting another second, Trinity sprinted into the bathroom to grab a towel.

But before she could return, Rhea reached out with shaky hands, gripping both Jon and Jey’s hands with surprising strength. Her fingers dug into their skin, her face contorted in terror.

“Rhea, look at us,” Jon said, his voice firm yet calming. “Focus on us. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

Rhea’s head whipped around, her breathing still erratic as she looked at her two closest people, trying to ground herself in the present moment. Her vision seemed to swim, everything feeling distant and overwhelming.

Trinity rushed back into the room, but instead of placing the rag on Rhea’s forehead, she gently cupped Rhea’s face in her hands, steadying her. “RHEA!” she called out, her voice full of urgency but laced with warmth. “I’m here! Josh is here! Jon is here! Look at me, Rhea. Focus.”

Rhea blinked rapidly, her breaths coming quicker, but then… something shifted. The frantic chaos in her chest began to ease. Memories flickered behind her eyes like flashes of light. Images of simpler times, of warmth and love.

She remembered dancing with Trinity at her old house in Orlando. The two of them laughing, lost in the rhythm of Ciara’s Promise song. The smells of barbecue drifting from the backyard, Jon’s laughter echoing as he worked the grill. She remembered their pedicure days, their feet in the bubbling water, both of them letting go of the weight of their worlds, if only for a few hours. The days spent in the kitchen together, cooking and talking about everything and nothing.

With each memory, Rhea’s breathing grew steadier. Slowly, the fog that had clouded her mind began to lift.

Trinity held her, pulling her into a tight embrace as Rhea’s breathing began to stabilize. “You’re okay,” Trinity whispered softly, her voice cracking with relief.

Rhea pulled back, her eyes wet with unshed tears, her voice barely audible. “I remember.”

Trinity froze, her heart tightening at the raw emotion in Rhea’s eyes. She leaned in, her voice gentle but insistent. “Rhea… tell us again.”

Rhea’s breath hitched, tears spilling from her eyes. She looked at Jon and Jey, then back at Trinity, the weight of the moment sinking in.

“I remember,” Rhea repeated, her voice stronger now but thick with emotion.

[kining-the-evil]

We Can Be Fucked Up Together

(Randy Meeks x Riley!reader)

Summary: You find solace in Randy after your best friend and boyfriend go on a killing spree

•

Warnings: making out, no actual smut but allusions to it, memories of murder, murder, former Stu x reader, backflashs to The Night of the murder, blood, reader having sympathy for Stu

•

An: This is My first scream fic, And I am very happy to be Writing about Randy. My baby deserves more love

•

The walls felt like they were closing in around You. You shouldn’t be alive, the blood loss was already making your head woozy and your midsection was starting to go numb from where you had been stabbed. You chose to believe Billy was the one who stabbed you, otherwise you’d Look Even more pathetic kneeling on the ground trying to stop Stu’s bleeding.

“Stop moving.” You mumbled while putting more pressure on some of his wounds.

“Im feeling woozy!” He whined, And you hated How it made you feel. You shouldn’t feel bad for him. He had killed people, he was planing on killing you, and yet your heart hurt to hear the person you’d loved for the past two years Be in pain.

“You’re going to die If we stay Here-“ You started to try and push yourself to your feet, but a gun to your back stoped you.

“Don’t fucking move,” Billy hissed.

“He’s going to die!” You yelled back, But You didn't try to stand up again.

“Then you better keep pressure on it until i fucking kill Sidney.” He snapped before running off to find Sidney, who had gone to hide somewhere.

Once the gun was gone Your attention went back to the man on Front of you. He had tears in his eyes, but an almost smile on his face.

“Why?” You whispered, unsure if you even wanted an answer.

“Why not?” He chuckled, jerking his arm up and pushing the knife straight into your stomach.

You sat up straight in your bed, letting out a small scream as you ripped at your shirt. The only thought running through your head was ‘i Need This Off.’

“Fuck!” You mumbled, struggling with getting the shirt up. You started to calm when you saw the lack of blood on your shirt. Another nightmare.

As you steadied your breathing, you couldn’t help but notice how small your room felt. How dark it was. You couldn’t stay here. Not tonight. You would either fall back asleep To Deal with nightmares, or Lay awake And Deal with memories. Not that you had a lot of places to go.

You could wake up Dewey, but his pain meds knocked him out. Besides, you didn’t want to bother him. Sidney wasn’t on the best terms with you currently; the two of you were never the closest in your group of friends. The only left Randy.

You stood up and pulled some sweatpants on along with a jacket. You debated going out the window, but you would have to walk the few blocks to his house and you weren’t brave enough for that yet. Instead you quietly made your way through the house, sneaking by your parents and brothers room so you could grab your car keys. Thankfully, your parents slept hard enough that they wouldn’t hear you driving away.

Driving definitely wasn’t the best idea; your entire body was still shaking and you didn’t dare go more then 10 miles an hour. When you arrived at the Meeks, you were quick to turn off the car to not wake the entire family and got out.

Just like you had the other three times this week, you found the window into Randy’s bedroom. You couldn’t see the man, but the tv in his room was on. You knocked on the window lightly, and it didn’t take long for his face to appear in front of you. He quickly opened the window, frowning at you.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you offered a small smile. He helped you climb into his room, and you took your spot on his bed next to him. He was sat with his back to the wall, an arm wrapped around you. You were cuddled into his side, watching the tv in front of you both. Nightmare On Elm Street.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“How can you watch this shit?” You ignored his question for his own, turning your head away from the screen.

“I love this movie,” he shrugged.

“I used to,” you mumbled. It was silent for a few minutes, saved for the movie playing, before you said something. Something that had been bothering you every day for the past 6 months.

“I should have noticed it sooner.” He tensed slightly, and you immediately regretted saying it; but you had to. The thought had been filling your head for months.

“You couldn’t have.”

“Ya, I could have. My best friend and boyfriend went on a killing spree, I should have noticed something.” Randy pushed you away slightly, making you look up at him.

“Sidney was dating him, should she be blamed for what happened too?”

“Thats different,” you snapped. “She fought back, I tried to save him!” You whisper yelled, worried about the others asleep in the house.

“Thats because its who you are,” he argued back. “You go out of your way to see the best in people, even if they don’t deserve it. Even after what Stu did, you didnt want to be the reason he died.” You flinched at his name, you hadn’t heard it be said out loud other then on the news. Dewey normally shut it off relatively quickly when it was on.

“You told me plenty of times how awful they were,” you pointed out. The tops of his ears turned a light pink, making you frown. Why would he be blushing?

“That may just be because I hated seeing you with them all the time,” he admitted.

It was your turn to blush, your face heating up a bit. ‘He doesn’t mean it like that,’ you reminded yourself. Randy had been in love with Sidney for years, the only reason he hadn’t made a move was to avoid angering the women.

You didn’t actually get a chance to say anything before chapped lips were people pushed against your own. You eyes shot open, surprised by the contact, and he quickly pulled away.

“Shit! Sorry sorry, god. What the hell os wrong with me?” He mumbled the last part to himself. He didnt get much time to feel bad before you reached up to pull his face to your own so you could kiss him again. He made a sound of surprise, but he didn’t fight against it; instead he kissed back. It wasn’t rough, but you could feel relief coming from him. Like any tension was being removed from him.

He pulled you lightly so you would settle on his lap, knees on either sides of him. He kept his hands on your hips while yours slid down to his chest, gripping his shirt lightly, like he would fly away if you let go.

This wasn’t necessarily a new position for you. Stu had you like this plenty of times, but it felt so different. Stu left bruises on your hips, Randy’s hold was gentle. Stu kissed with the intent of going further, Randy kissed you like he was thankful to even get this. Randy felt…safe.

Eventually you had to pull away, your lungs burning from the lack of air. You both stayed just as close, foreheads resting together and you coups feel his breath on your face.

“I thought…Sidney…” you mumbled between breaths.

“I never thought I had a chance with you,” he admitted. “I had you as a friend, so I thought it would be enough. But it wasn’t.” His eyes boar into your own, and it felt like he was staring straight into your soul.

“Caring about me right now will be rotten work. I’m really fucked up” you told him.

“I dont mind. We can he fucked up together.” He offered, making you smile.

“I’d like that.”

[alienguts]

Kintsugi (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce takes Y/N out for lunch to make up for his moping.

Warnings: mild angst, mentions of breakups, feelings and shit

Request?: sort of, a few people asked for a sequel so here we are

A/N: I haven't been writing a whole lot recently because I had a lot of work and study related things to do, but that's now over and I have a five day weekend ahead of me so I can finally get things done!

1 - Picking Up the Pieces | 2 - Kintsugi | 3 - Stay with Me

Bruce had lost track of how many times he’d looked at his watch in the past hour while sitting alone in the cafe. Y/N did say that she would be running late, but he didn’t think she meant this late. He decided to wait another twenty minutes before texting to see where she was. 

Is this what being stood up feels like? Bruce wondered, thinking back to the numerous times he’d skipped out on meetings and dates for other commitments. His mind couldn’t help but drift back to the times he’d stood Y/N up for other commitments, whether that was work at Wayne Enterprises, the Batsignal, or another woman.

Guilt washed over him as he remembered how disappointed she’d been when he turned down her offers to hang out, not noticing when she was in need of a friend or for him to be more than a friend. He’d never realised how lonely she was and had always tried to push the sad look in her eyes from his mind, but he’d been so blinded by love - no, lust, desperation - to see that she was the one who’d supported him this whole time, who truly understood him and knew what his soul looked like.

He was just about to leave when the door clicked open and a rush of footsteps approached him. Bruce looked up from his phone, about to text Y/N when he saw her standing in front of her, her hair a mess from the wind and her shoulders shuddering with each breath.

“I tried to get here as fast as I could,” she said between pants. “There was an accident a few blocks down so I had to take a detour.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce said, smiling softly as he stood up to greet her. “I’ve been late for everything so it gives me a taste of my own medicine.”

Y/N let out a huge sigh of relief and took the chair across the table from Bruce, sinking into it as her muscles relaxed again. She briefly looked around at their surroundings, feeling a little out of place in the cafe Bruce had picked. She was used to frequenting diners and Starbucks rather than the grand patisseries that Bruce could afford.

“I already ordered for us,” Bruce said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Y/N said, smiling at him. “You always know what I like anyway.”

His heart fluttered when she smiled at him. It felt like something that had been missing his whole life but had been there the whole time. 

If only he hadn’t been so foolish not to see it.

Their lunch date was just like old times: two old friends talking about how their lives had been and what they were planning to do later on in the week. It was as if they’d never been apart, as if Bruce had never taken Y/N’s friendship for granted. He’d pretty much forgotten about the events of the night before and he’d almost forgotten about Selina. Almost.

That wound in his heart wasn’t likely to heal any time soon, and rushing into something with Y/N wouldn’t be fair for her. He needed time to grieve the relationship and piling all of that onto her would be a bad start to a new relationship. Especially one with his oldest and best friend.

“Y/N,” he started after an extended quiet moment. “I wanted to apologise to you.”

“What for?” Y/N asked, stopping as she reached for her cup.

“For taking you for granted for all this time.”

Y/N shot him a confused look. “I’m not sure I understand,” she said.

“Every time I went through a rough patch in a relationship or a breakup, I would always come running to you for comfort,” Bruce said, keeping eye contact with her so she could see how sincere he was. “But I never did the same for you. Whenever you needed someone to be there for you, I wasn’t.”

“Maybe I didn’t need someone to be there for me,” Y/N said. “I know how busy you are.”

“Yes, but a true friend would drop everything for a friend who needs them. And I’m sorry that I was never there for you.”

“Bruce, you don’t have to be sorry for anything, I understand why you can’t always be around whenever I’m moping.”

“But I should be,” Bruce said, drawing the attention of some of the other diners around them. “I should be there for you because you’re always there for me. I feel like I’ve taken advantage of you and I don’t want to keep doing that.”

“I don’t want you to either,” Y/N said, her voice quiet as she looked down at the table. “I cried so much when you left last night. I felt like I was stuck in this endless loop of you breaking up with someone and coming to cry on my shoulder before going off to the next one.”

And I want to be the next one, she stopped herself from saying. Her throat felt thick like she’d swallowed a spoonful of molasses and couldn’t get it to go down. She wanted to tell Bruce how she felt about him, but not right in the middle of a cafe and not when he’d just been left at the altar. It would probably eat her up inside until she felt the time was right, but she’d endure it. Even if that meant waiting years for Bruce to be ready to love again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling her back to the room with him. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I want to be a better friend to you and I’m going to be a better friend.”

When Y/N didn’t respond, Bruce excused himself from the table to pay for the cheque. A single tear spilt from her eye once he was far away enough for her to not notice and was quickly wiped away with a napkin. This wasn’t how she had hoped the afternoon to go, and she was sure it wasn’t how Bruce wanted it to go either. After making sure she didn’t look like she was on the verge of tears, she gathered her things and joined Bruce at the counter who was ready to go.

“You feeling okay?” he asked when she approached him. She just nodded in reply. “We should get going.”

Bruce drove Y/N home and walked her up to her apartment, keeping close to her every step. His fingers brushed against hers occasionally, sending sparks up his arm and making his body run warm. They walked up the stairs to her floor in silence, the sound of their footsteps the only sound until they reached Y/N’s apartment and she fished her keys out of her pocket.

“Lunch didn’t end the way we’d hoped, huh?” Bruce said, trying to lighten the mood. “I really am sorry. About yesterday. And today.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N said. “You’ve been hurt, you probably haven’t been thinking clearly.”

“Thanks for understanding, Y/N,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks for lunch,” she said in response before stepping forward to hug him.

Bruce eagerly accepted her hug, wrapping his strong arms around her tightly and resting his cheek on the top of her head. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo and the perfume that he knew she always dabbed behind her ears and let himself relax into her body. Hugging Y/N felt natural to him, but for some reason, it felt even more natural now. Like she was home and was welcoming him back to her after being away for so long. 

Without thinking, he shifted his head to softly kiss the top of her head and let his lips linger before she moved away from him. She looked at him wide-eyed, hoping he wouldn’t misinterpret her response before letting her gaze move down to his lips. Her chest rose and fell as her heartbeat sped up and Bruce moved one of his hands from her back to her face, brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek and moving to gently hold her jaw. Just as he leaned his face into hers, her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted, waiting for him to make contact.

She felt his forehead against hers first, then his nose brush against hers before he softly captured her lips. Her heart skipped a beat before she relaxed into him, returning his kiss. It was gentle and chaste, but exactly what she’d wanted for years. And all it took was the man she’d loved her whole life getting left at the altar by her rival in love.

The kiss was over just as soon as it had begun. Bruce had pulled away from her just enough to still feel his breath on her skin, his hands still on her but full of restless energy. She knew he would have to go but she just wanted one more minute of feeling like he was hers.

“I should get going now,” Bruce said, his voice soft and quiet. “Alfred will be wondering why I’m taking so long.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N said as she let him move away from her. “Um, we should do this again soon.”

No, it’s too soon, Y/N, she told herself.

“Y’know, when you’re ready, of course,” she added quickly. Bruce smiled at her and took her hand.

“I’ll always make time for you,” he said warmly. “I told you, I want to make up the past ten years to you.”

“I’d like that,” she said as she opened her apartment door behind her and slowly backed into it. “So, see you soon?”

“See you soon,” Bruce said and watched her go before making his way down the hall and stairs and back to his car.

Once the door had closed, Y/N again slid down against it, this time in triumph rather than sorrow. It was too early to know for sure, but she knew that she didn’t have to live in dread of Bruce blowing her off for some other fling again. She finally knew what it was like to be close to him, to have him kiss her, even if it was so briefly. Her fingers drifted up to her lip, still tingling from his kiss as if she couldn’t believe that it had happened. But it had, and hopefully, it would happen many more times in the future.

[emilsendo]

Tokyo Revengers [preferences]

Type: Fluff

Warning: Male reader, G/N reader, Tall!male/GN reader, bxb, Shorter!Character, fluff, (Idk what else xD)

Author Note: In general, I apologize to those who were waiting for One Shot, but honestly, I was too lazy to do it and I forgot that I even had this application xDD So I'm giving you preferences, which I hope are good. And there has been a slight change in my block, I will write Smuts but only for characters 16+ or 18+. Not 15 and under that age.

Their reaction when you're taller than them. PART 1

Manjirø Sano:

It's not a challenge to be taller than him, but to be 2 meters and how many centimeters? Mikey thought you were some kind of giant.

In the first moments of your acquaintance, he wouldn't like you because you looked like you were everyone's enemy due to your height and appearance. But when Mikey got to know you better and noticed that you had a great personality, the boy loved you just as quickly as he disliked you.

He thought you were an interesting type of guy and wanted to know as much as he could about your past and you. Mikey didn't know why, you just had something about your personality and looks that piqued his interest.

However, when your relationship reached a higher stage after some time (I bet after a few weeks, at most 4 months), the blonde would use your height as a playground because he would climb on you every now and then and want you to carry him. Draken was then SUPER grateful that you existed because he didn't have to take care of Mikey so much.

Sometimes he would scare his opponents with you while talking to the other gang, because something that the other leader of the gang do irritated him.

And the last one. He cuddles up to you all the time, sleeps on you, sometimes sits on your lap. He just treats you like a big teddy bear (I feel sorry for you because this mf behaves like this even in public👀)

Ken Ryūguji:

Ken is used to looking down on everyone because usually HE is the big guy. So when he saw you, a six-foot and several centimeters tall boy, the blond boy felt a little threatened.

He didn't trust you at all at first, he thought you were a very suspicious guy, as if you were about to take a gun out from under your blouse and shoot the shit out of everyone. (Draken, chill out dude 🙄)

Your conversations were mainly based on exchanging a few words and then silence for the rest of the time. (very awkward feeling🌚👍)

but after some time, of course, you learned to communicate together, in fact, you both had a lot in common! Draken liked you very much, he wanted to spend more and more time with you.

As your relationship progressed, Draken felt a little embarrassed when you held his hand in public. The blonde hates affection, especially when you show it to him in public. (Sometimes he even hits you on the back of the head when he's in a bad mood, and you're begin clingy to him)

However, if you are alone, Ken loves to cuddle with you. (I know, hard to believe👀🙌)

Draken loves kisses on the forehead, I don't know why, but it makes him feel safe.

Baji Keisuke:

This bitch attacked you as soon as he saw you 💀 He wanted to check if you were strong or just pretending to be. Well.... He found out.

You actually defeated him in one move because your height helped you. Baji hated you at first, he wanted to smash your face against the wall. But after a while he liked you (After 4 days when he saw you feeding homeless cats.)

After this event, he liked you very quickly. In fact, even from that moment on, he started to have a slight crush on you, of course, he never wanted to admit it. (Mainly because he was a bit ashamed that he fell in love with someone he wanted to send to the hospital...)

When your relationship moved to a higher stage, Baji became very jealous of you.

When some guy came up to you and wanted to ask for directions, Baji thought he was flirting with you, so he hit the guy as hard as he could, and then you had to force him away from the poor man. (Baji later apologized to you for his behavior)

His mother was a little afraid of you at first and thought you would hurt her son. (She doesn't know yet that it's more Baji that has a bad influence on you lmao)

But then Ryoko liked you A LOT, she thought you were a nice boy and she wanted your relationship with her son to last as long as possible. Because she saw how much Baji's eyes light up when he sees you, how much the brunette loves going out to the park with you because it makes him happy, how much Baji is lost in thought almost every day when he eats dinner with his mom because he thinks about you. His mother is happy that her son has finally found someone he cares about in hundred procent.

Baji often invites you to his place to help him study. (But it also often results in both of you ending up having a make-out session. Nothing more, so don't get your imagination too wild young fellow.)

Kazutora Hanemiya:

The boy didn't waste any time and immediately started talking to you, he thought you were worthy of his attention and he wanted to get to know you better.

Kazutora often invited you out at night to get into trouble with the police and fight with some guys. You even have a special attack where Kazutora is on your shoulders and then jumps down on the opponent and hits him with his leg. He fell down a few times and started screaming things like, "It's all Mikey's fault! Mikey's fault!!!".

As your relationship progressed, Kazutora would often randomly jump on your back to give you a kiss on the cheek. After all, you're super tall, so standing on his toes to kiss you isn't an option for him. (Because he won't be able to reach it even if he does xD)

Mf will pretend he hurt his ankle just so you can hold him and carry him all the way to his destination in your arms.

He loves you very much, so he is kinda possesive of you. It is making you sometimes uncomfortable, but Kazutora tries to hide this side of him just for your comfort.

[thecurioustale]

My New Book Is Out! | Tokens of Zeal

My new book is out!

Buy it! Buy it now!

That's right: In secret, on January 2 of this year I began writing a book of essays. Some of you may know that I have an online journal, which I created in the summer of 2003 when I was just 21 years old and have kept up with ever since. For my new book I went back to the journal and read through it, entry by entry, drawing out excerpts of interest that became conversation pieces for 81 various and sundry essays reflecting on my past life and past thoughts.

The essays are short, often very short. They are less challenging than my usual writing, I would say. My purpose was not to advance my personal frontier of philosophy and intellectual thought in 2024, or to reach a niche audience of deep thinkers, but instead to reflect sincerely on some things I've seen along the way and muse upon how my thoughts have changed and stayed the same over twenty years.

I mention this to you because I am a bit worried that anyone who reads this book might think there's not much to me as an author, and might be dissuaded from reading my works of fiction when those books eventually come out, so I'll lampshade that by adding that I wrote this book in two-and-a-half months. Make of that what you will. I told myself I wouldn't self-sabotage the book by needlessly saying negative things about it, and I am proud of it, not only the fact that I finished it at all, let alone so quickly, but of the actual contents too.

This book is "Volume 1" in a hypothetical series, as it doesn't cover the entire twenty years of the journal but only the first four months, from August to November of 2003—at which point the essays had reached "book length" (lol). So really this book is a snapshot of my life in the latter half of 2003. At that time, I was fading out of college due to financial hardship and other issues, and did not realize that I would never (as yet) return.

I have been wanting for years to go back and reread my journal, and writing a book out of it was the perfect impetus to finally do it. I think a few things stand out about the Josh of 2023:

First, my principles have remained remarkably consistent, but my awareness and understanding of the world has grown drastically, and so those same principles have led me over time to some different policy views and worldviews on some things.

Second, I was a 21-year-old arrogant block of cheese, full of hormones and self-conviction, and that definitely shows up at times in ways that I simultaneously am not proud of and yet which I admire for their sheer gall. There is something very magnetic about the old me which doesn't exist anymore.

Third, following up on that point, it was pretty inspiring and encouraging to revisit the old me, with all that native optimism and drive. I don't express those qualities anymore because life has worn me down and also because I have come to recognize that humanity's problems are a lot more stubborn and irremediable than I thought. By glimpsing into the past, I couldn't help but be cheered on by the old Josh's proud, utopian sense of human inevitability. It lifted my own spirits in the here and now!

I made the mistake of announcing the book on Patreon right after I finished writing it, i.e. back in mid-March. Then I had to wring my hands every week about how post-production was taking longer than expected. Between the irritating realities of formatting a book in software not properly equipped to format a book (never write a book in Google Docs), the complexities of my detail-oriented manner and strong vision regarding the cover design (and engaging for the first time ever with modern generative AI, and having to learn those ropes), and sustaining illnesses and other life priorities and so on, it would take me another two months in all to finally reach today, where I can now publicly declare:

The book is done! It is for sale right now. It is called:

Tokens of Zeal: Words from a Vanished Age

(Caption: Book front cover of Tokens of Zeal: Words from a Vanished Age, by Joshua Calars.)

You can buy it through Amazon in either paperback or e-book format. (I recommend the paperback version for aesthetics as it is much truer to my design vision for the book's layout and appearance, but my profit margin is actually a dollar bigger with the e-book version, so really just go with whichever version you prefer.) It is available in the US as well as in basically all the other countries that Amazon has expanded its publishing service into. If you need help finding a link to a particular version, give me a ping and I will point you there (if there is a "there" to be pointed to). This is my second published book, following Prelude to After The Hero in 2015, and the first book to be published in print.

If you do read it, first of all thank you! It's an honor that you would take the time. Second of all, I would love any feedback you care to offer. That's not a platitude either; feedback is hard to come by and I really would be interested in anything you have to say, good or bad. You can e-mail me, DM, reblog this, drop an ask, or tag me in an independent post. Whatever you like! Feedback will help me greatly when I eventually get around to writing Volume 2. And feel free to leave a review on Amazon, whether good or bad (though hopefully you enjoy the book); I am told it pleases The Algorithm. But most of all, if you enjoy the book, tell someone about it! Your word-of-mouth is currently 100 percent of my advertising budget, lol.

That's all. I wrote a book; it took four-and-a-half-months; it's done now; and it's the first time I've ever gotten to hold a book that I wrote in my hands as a physical thing, and that's pretty neat.

[wutheringmights]

Commentary for latest CTB chapter???👀👀👀👀

Thank you! You guys are as prompt as ever. Unfortunately, I needed a few days to get my thoughts together (and honestly would have taken even longer if I wasn't going out of town this weekend).

I kinda struggled a bit to have Important Thoughts about this chapter (I have been so tired all week), but I did my best.

(Triggering content from the chapter are discussed below).

I’ve mentioned many times already that I suffered from a massive bout of writer’s block during this chapter; and it’s a bit hard to pinpoint what exactly caused it. 

On one hand, I think the last chapter was just so much that I may have burnt myself out on an emotional level. Usually, a week or two off is all I need to fix it, but I also had a lot of personal responsibilities that took up all of my bandwidth. 

And, frankly, there’s a part of me that is a little freaked out that I’ve been working on this story for so long, and that I might not be able to finish it within my self-imposed deadline (if I have to see CTB’s 4th birthday, I am gonna lose it). That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy writing CTB or that I feel pressured to keep going; I just felt exhausted and overwhelmed by how much of my life I’ve sunk into a story that not only refuses to end in a timely manner, but that I can’t share with anyone I know in real life. 

My burnout required a few months' rest to get over, but that’s not to say I didn’t try to work on this chapter that entire time. 

So I actually started this chapter back in April, right after I published STP. I wrote this opening scene of Link ruminating over the past and got stuck trying to transition to him being found. I got so stuck that I ended up bouncing over to the present-day section, where I got stuck in a new and novel way (which I’ll talk about more later). 

That means that everything else in the past I wrote the day before posting. On one hand, I was raring to go and I felt really good getting all those words onto paper. It did a lot for my ego. On the other, I really wish I took more time to revise a lot of this. I think the pacing overall is really strong, but there’s a few ideas I threw out into the story that I really wish I lingered on. 

For example, I mention that Link’s physical abuse was a relatively short stretch of time compared to how significant it is. Him being violent towards the engineer feels like it went on forever and forever, but it only lasted about 4 months. I like this detail so much because it helps to illustrate how even short-term abuse has lifelong effects on people. If I lingered on this chapter a bit more, I would have found more ways to ruminate on it. 

I almost had Ayane discover Link in his house. I ended up changing it to Jakucho since, as much as Ayane likes Link, she would not care enough to go check up on him.  

For the longest time, I imagined Link’s room at the Miyashita estate to be the same as the one he was held prisoner in post-Kakariko Well. But I ended up stating in that chapter that the room was located in a part of the house he had never seen before. So Link’s room was changed from a formal guest room to a study.

In universe, this is so that he’s encouraged to read books and is easily within Jakucho’s reach.

I personally got a hearty chuckle out of Link being denied chopsticks by default; he’s probably very good at using them in the present, but during this time he’s probably really shit at it. Real white boy behavior. 

If I gave myself more time to work on this section, I would have played around with the idea of him being haunted by an imaginary engineer, just as he had been haunted by an imaginary version of his old self on the way to the Kakariko Well. I don’t know if I would have committed to it, though. On one hand, it would have been a cool way to illustrate his inner thoughts. On the other, it implies a mental break I don’t think he’s experiencing. 

On a similar note, I worry that this chapter wasn’t that effective because it was way less (for a lack of better words) dramatic than the past few “Link Has A Breakdown” chapters have been?

Let me explain. So nearly every time Link has been under emotional duress before this, I’ve played with the prose to show how his reality is being warped. Take chapter 24 for example. Link gets stuck on the engineer leaving him, so the passage of time in that chapter becomes unclear-- both in him not realizing how quickly time is passing and him constantly going back to the day he realized the engineer was gone for good. The prose is written in a way that conveys that reality has broken. It’s very melodramatic. 

But for this chapter, reality is firm. Link’s mind has cleared enough to see what happened in the past clearly. The prose can’t dramatically screw with perception because that’s not what’s happening. The passage of time and the depiction of reality has to be crystal clear. 

So despite making these long, semi-experimental passages one of my signature moves, I couldn’t use it here without actively detracting from the story. On one hand, a more grounded chapter effectively shows how this breakdown is different. On the other, it’s a little basic. 

I have a bit of a problem where past!Ayane is a bit too similar in personality to Linkle. Ayane in the present day is supposed to be a cool teenager who is probably a bit of a mean girl at school-- the kind that will grow out of it the moment she leaves for college. But I wanted to show her entering this stage of life in the past, so she’s less bratty and more troublemaking.

Speaking of which, any reference to Ayane “going through a phase” is supposed to refer to her becoming a moody teenager. I didn’t realize until literally yesterday that it might come off as her family being transphobic. They’re supportive of her being a girl; they just get fed up with how much of a kid she is. 

The point of the chapter that made me start tearing up in the coffee shop is when Ayane got mad at Link for destroying the journal. I’ve been that kid who understands cognitively that a parent in your life is not well but still struggled with what that meant on an emotional level. Her family definitely explained to her that Link isn’t well and etc, but that can be kinda abstract for kids to really understand. So when the mental illness causes him to react badly, it seems to her that he is hurting her because he does not care about her. 

And there are a whole slew of issues you can explore with that idea alone, like how culpable is Link for his actions when he is unwell but still the adult? I’ve already started exploring bits of it with the child’s relationship with Link and the engineer. But exploring this idea from a different perspective (the child and his fucked up emotional issues vs Ayane’s normal preteen perspective) is always interesting. 

Link impulsively trying to kill himself was not in my original plan for the chapter, but after everything... yeah, he would try. This might have something to do with an episode of You’re Wrong About I was listening to work last week where they talked about the percentage of suicides that are impulsive decisions versus premeditated.

(Of course, today I listened to the episode on copycat suicides and now I am very nervous about this chapter being used as an instruction manuel)

I was going to have his attempt be to freeze to death outside, but then I thought of the obi belt, and I really could not resist alluding back to the hanging scene in chapter 13

It ended up being a good transition into a scene I’ve wanted to do for a while now: Ayane’s mom asking him to continue acting like Ayane’s older brother. 

I originally wanted that moment back when their friendship was just starting out, but decided to toss it to his depression arc to act as a moment of encouragement for him. What I didn’t expect was to stumble into this scene being both a way to talk him out of suicide, as well as him realizing he’s a shitty brother. I’m a terrible brother is a monumental realization for him, and I stumbled into it by accident. 

I was tempted to remove Ayane’s mother from this scene and put Jakucho here instead. But Jakucho would never ask Link to play an older brother role. Plus, I like the idea that a random, near-stranger accidentally talked him down without realizing what they were doing. 

And of course, having Ayane’s mother talk helps to develop the Miyashita family dynamic and give a better idea as to why Shigeo is estranged. 

Ayane’s mother also has a very tiny appearance earlier in the story-- chapter 9, when we meet Jakucho for the first time. Granted, I think I only referred to her as Impa’s sister. 

I also stumbled accidentally into the moment with the koi fish and using them as a symbol for perseverance. I really like that scene. I almost named the chapter “The Koi Pond” in its honor. 

I also admit that until fairly recently, I also didn’t know fish could live in frozen water. 

I went back and forth about whether I wanted to make a big moment at the beginning of the chapter about Link going non-verbal, or if I should let it build up slowly; I ended up going with the latter.

I didn’t want to make his non-verbalness the center of his issues when it’s just a consequence of his depression. He’s not depressed and non-verbal. He’s non-verbal because he’s depressed. So waiting until the second half of this section to address it homely drove home that this is only a symptom of a larger issue. 

This chapter also gave me the opportunity to address my sign language headcanon; it’s standard taught in school, but not in a way where everyone is actually good at it. It’s like learning Spanish in elementary school; you grow up remembering a few phrases and words, but never actually become bilingual. 

I like the way the bell motif is used in this chapter. In the past, Proxi’s bells are a sign that things are going to get better. In the present, the Castle Town bells signal that things are about to get a whole lot worse. 

But, yes! After all this time, Proxi is finally here. Hopefully the long wait for her introduction/return will be worth while.

For the present day:

Remember how I said my writer’s block struck for this part of the chapter as well? I solved it in the dumbest way possible. 

One of my big issues was that I didn’t know how to string everything that I needed to get done into a cohesive chapter (because if the chapter isn’t good, then I would have wasted so much of my time on a story that isn’t good, and etc.). My solution was to write a flat draft with only the stuff needed to move the plot forward (talking to Ganondorf, getting on the boat, etc), and then do revisions where I added character moments.

Except, I did character moments by the character. So I would spent a week adding scenes about Spirit, then another about Time, and so on. I said in this post that I turned a 5k draft into a 12k draft. Yikes. 

Because I wrote the chapter like this, I think the pacing is not great. The dinner scene and the post-Midlink gossiping was originally one scene, which I split into two to accommodate other character stuff. But I also think this is one of the most well-balanced chapters in terms of how many characters got a moment to shine. 

I’m really enjoying how much you all enjoy Ganondorf. I think nearly every comment on the chapter so far has mentioned him. I almost regret keeping him in the Zora’s Domain right now, but have no fear. He will be back. 

I am endlessly amused by this moment when Warriors realizes he has to talk to Spirit again, and he thinks “Spirit. / Fucking Spirit.” Is he cursing him out, or is he remembering... you know...

I mentioned a long time ago that one of the issues I had to fix when starting this chapter was finding something for the rest of the Chain to do in this final act. I figured out what their deal is, and a lot of tiny moments in this chapter is the set-up for that.

In a similar vein, I feel like I lost the thread on Time for a hot while there. I really had to mull over what his problem is, how he was going to respond, and how I can show Time responding near Warriors so that the reader can know. I’ve never had this much difficulty writing him-- or characters in general-- before. Hence, my on-going battle against writer’s block.

Another amusing moment that only I think it funny: Spirit lifting Warriors up by the scruff of his neck to haul into the alley way, like he’s an old cat. Honestly, I should write more jokes based around Spirit being strong enough to lift Warriors now.

Now that I think about it, I have a scene in my head where Warriors bitches so much while traveling that Spirit just throws him over his shoulder and carries him like a sack of rice. Is it out of character for both of them? Yeah, but we can imagine it happens in the AU where they are friends.

I have been wanting to provide some form of a resolution for Midna and Twilight for so long, but there hasn’t been a good moment to make them talk-- or at least, a moment where they can talk while Warriors is nearby to listen.

I really enjoy striking a comparison between how Midna and Twilight hashed everything out versus the bullshit Warriors got up to last chapter, especially because Midna and Twilight’s solution was to just give up. It’s not going to work out ever, so they might as well enjoy themselves now.

I love MidLink so much, but part of that love is in how it 100% would not work out between them. As Midna says, they would hate each other in a year. But they keep trying anyway because they love each other right now and that’s what matters. 

Speaking of which, Midna’s “we’ll hate each other in a year” line is a reference to the Greta Gerwig Little Women movie. I love that movie so much, enough that I can forgive Timothy Chamalet for being in it. He has a scene where his proposal is met with basically the same sentiment from Saoirse Ronan’s character. 

Tiny little headcanon: Skyloft’s theater style is very similar to ancient Greek theater, with heavy use of masks and choruses. That’s why he mimics holding a mask when performing Twilight’s line for Lana.

His line was originally something Twilight actually said, but then I went in a revised the MidLink scene and got rid of it. I kept Sky’s mocking of it because I thought it was more realistic.

I won’t say much about what the boys talked about post-confession scene, except to point out that they were kept up by the noise, they might have an idea of the timing of when everything went down during the Hot Mess

I’m glad everyone found my joke about always going to Wild’s era funny lol

Chateau Milk (aka: alcoholic milk beverages) is a tiny little world building detail I have been dying to do for ages. I wanted to use any scene of milk-drinking to shove in a joke about Hyrule being intensely lactose intolerant (he’s immune to all bad food except dairy), but I couldn’t squeeze it it. 

The ribbon kinda got a disproportionate role considering how briefly I referenced Spirit losing it last chapter. 

The reason Warriors was sharing a room with Four was so that I could finally do a follow-up on the Four Swords stuff I started forever ago, but it has once more been punted off to another chapter. Maybe one day...

By the time I got to this second conversation with Time, I was feeling much better about how I was writing him. Between this and his earlier appearance, this is definitely the stronger moment. 

I also deeply amused by Ganondorf and Lincoln have to pretend to be very bitchy with each other in order to not seem like they were married. I wanted to write a scene where Ganondorf argues that Lincoln needs to show him the proper request so that Lincoln would have an excuse to kiss his hand, but I ended up not having the energy or will power to go back in and add it. 

Spirit is so not used to anyone having a genuine interest in his senses that Sky’s question totally caught him off guard. Thank god Sky is the type of person who would ask because I got a good moment to clarify more of the limits of Spirit’s senses-- mainly, that a lot of the info he gets is so contextual that most of it is nonsense to him

To clarify, Spirit’s senses freak out people outside of his era. In New Hyrule, where the idea is a bit more common place, it’s considered rude to ask just as its rude to tell people what you sense. Lokomo customs, and all that.

I didn’t plan on having Spirit cut his hair, but I was deep in the throes of writer’s block and felt like I needed to write about Spirit doing something a little insane to respike my interest. Cutting off your hair because the guy you hated saved your ribbon fitted the bill nicely.

(Nonetheless-- RIP Spirit’s long hair. You were much beloved)

Spirit and Lana’s relationship has always been very underbaked on my part. I didn’t do a lot with them at the beginning of the story, and I haven’t done much with it now (or even much with Lana in general). Here is a vague attempt to salvage my mistakes. If I could ever revise the whole of CTB (I will never), this would be one of the things I would improve

Oh God... the Nephus stuff...

Like, I knew this was going to happen. What I worry about is whether it feels cheap to just have a character go back on their word like that. It’s realistic, if only because Warriors’s deal was really shitty. But on the other, it’s not very satisfying for the reader. You want the characters to have complex reasons for everything. I’m not sure that this qualifies. 

And this applies to all of the war stuff this chapter. Did Nephus lie about not wanting the Triforce? Whatever the answer is now, it’s not going to be satisfying. 

I know I said previously that Lincoln had no suspicions as to what happened during the Hot Mess. Well, I lied. Guy had it figured out fairly early on and only needed the opportunity to ask.

I just hope this scene with him and Spirit shows how Lincoln can be Warriors’s dad. Warriors is his mother’s son, but some of his insanity is from his father. 

Also we’ll pretend Lincoln has had that arm tattoo this entire time. The tattoo is not plot relevant, but it’s important to me.

Legend’s “it’s always the fucking Triforce” speech is my favorite Legend line in a chapter.

On a subconscious level, I was basing Castle Town on Boston. Why? I have no good reason. Just felt right. 

I really wish I managed to get us to Castle Town any time before this part of the story, if only to explore all the various neighborhood ideas I have. I managed to squeeze in the Gerudo neighborhood, but I have more thoughts on neighborhoods for the Zora, Goron, Rito, and even regular-old humans. 

I’m going to tell you right now that the girl in the graveyard is not plot relevant. I had a whole thing about the grave being a memorial for all the heroes across the eras and her praying to the memorial for a new hero that I just never got around to explaining

“Shines with humility” is another line that deeply amused me. Like, buddy. That is not how humility works.  

The Master Sword rejecting Warriors is supposed to feel very fitting and very unfair, all at once. I wanted people to understand why he’s lost the right to use her while still being frustrated that he was still being punished. I wanted this to be another opportunity for complex feelings. I don’t think the scene hit the right way, but that’s alright.

There was a point of time where I was plotting this half of the story when I realized I could use the Triforce scar idea that I had previously abandoned. I like the idea and the scene a lot, but I wonder if it feels forced? Like the whole story bent over backwards to make my silly idea possible. Let me know if this feels like a natural conclusion, or if I messed up somehow. 

That being said, this whole scene where Warriors and Spirit were cutting the Triforce into his hand was a lot of fun to write. Nothing breaks writer’s block like writing an insane character dynamic. 

I feel like I should talk more about themes and what this means for them, but you have eyes. You probably get the point by now. Instead, I will inform you that I did try to read that section to my writing friends, who all agreed that they did not have enough context to understand what the fuck was going on. And, yeah. That’s fair. 

I really wish I waxed more poetry about Warriors reentering the public eye. I did not have enough willpower to revise the hell out of that scene. However, I love the ending bit with Warriors asking Hyrule to make sure he gets the scar. 

One last thing-- I really should have done a revision because an important plot element may have gotten lost in it. I won’t say what, but hopefully it won’t cause problems down the road. 

And that’s the chapter! I feel like I didn’t have a lot to talk about this chapter, despite taking a near-week to write up all my thoughts. Next one should hopefully come sooner, but note that I still have a few more weekend trips and real life responsibilities to handle. My life is not settling down again until the beginning of October. 

I really want to emphasize that my bitching about my writer’s block and the source of it is not something I really need sympathy for, and it’s really not something encouragement is going to fix on it’s own. I appreciate the thought, but a lot of my issues right now just require some self-reflection on my part. I don’t want anyone feeling forced to drop a nice word or feel worried I’ll drop the story without it; I’ll still dedicated to finishing CTB. I just need some time (and to stop hanging out with my extended family). 

In other news, my friend offered to bind CTB into a book for me. Well, books. She knew the word count going in, but I have heard many complaints about how long CTB is. Apparently, it’s 6 volumes so far. Some volumes only have two chapters. When I told her I updated last Sunday, I saw the light leave her eyes. I love her dearly, and I will find a way to pay her back for this.