#who do I need to murder to have that fixed

[ladyofrosefire]

fuck it, bg3 companions shower routine

Shadowheart: Shar hates self-care, but a Shadowheart does take pride in her hair, and a Shadowheart who has learned to be kind to herself can indulge. Long, complicated hair routine, very specific water temperature, and a tendency toward long-ass depression showers. LOVES a bubble bath and will make a whole event of it with flower petals and candles just for her. Will bring a book with a little book tray and a glass of wine.

Astarion: Similarly complicated hair routine. Gotta hydrate the curls, and being dead does not do nice things to your hair. Less prone to standing there staring at nothing while the horrors set in, but prone to scrubbing too hard. Similarly fond of a bubble bath, although without the book or flowers, although he will fuck with an essential oil heater and likes to make his own blends.

Lae'zel: Queen of the 4 minute shower. She has been accused of not even waiting for the water to heat up, but she likes it blistering. Does not actually use 3-in-1, thank you. Having fairly short hair helps. She finds the other companions baffling. Would get bored in a bubble bath unless she had company (rubber duck counts).

Wyll: Sings. If someone called him on it, he would be embarrassed, the first time, for about a minute. Neither wildly efficient nor inclined to standing there for ages and ages and prefers to shower in the morning. Washing his hair is a chance to relax and take care of himself, although before he has his family back, it can be a bit melancholy. He has fallen asleep in the bath before. I feel like he'd love a bath bomb and he'd love the full romantic evening with candles and flowers and music.

Karlach: Please, please someone boil her. Once she gets her engine fixed all the way, she tries a cold shower just to remember what it feels like and keeps up a running commentary about how much it sucks while also not turning up the temperature. Absolutely loves sharing a shower with someone and will also sing. Should not attempt her little jig on wet tiles. May try anyway. Someone should introduce her to proper hair/skin care because if anyone is using 3-in-1, I'm sorry, it's Karlach. Genuinely cannot sit still for a bubble bath unless she has company to cuddle.

Gale: Voted Faerun's Most Likely to Relitigate Arguments in the Shower, Even if He Won Originally. Loves to pamper himself, canonically, loves a spa day, also canonically. You simply are not getting the bathroom back for a good hour, although not all that time involves running water. Plays around with different products and researches the living hell out of everything. Loves a long soak. The only person with a feline in their house to ever bathe in peace. Constantly torn between wanting a book with him when he has a bath and not wanting to get the pages steamy and damp, much less actually wet.

Minthara: Her ideal hair wash involves someone else doing it for her while also having the utmost certainty that the person will not attempt to murder her. If her partner washes her hair for her, she turns into a puddle. She has an incredibly specific lineup of products. If she shares, understand that she has bestowed upon you a great gift. More about bath salts than bubbles and could be persuaded to a sufficiently elegant bath bomb (it would not be a difficult check).

Halsin: Low-flow showerhead user. Hell, he might be the kind of person to turn the water off entirely when not soaking/rinsing out his hair... However, he is not immune to the "shower together to save water" line even though he KNOWS it doesn't work that way. He needs low-scent soaps/etc considering his heightened sense of smell. And listen, this man does not fit in a bathtub unless he goes somewhere special or finds a particularly large one. He made everyone floaty ducks, properly sealed against water damage, and he has one for himself that holds his soap.

Jaheira: Understands that having a chair in the shower is just being kind to yourself and proceeds accordingly. Will revisit arguments she had that day, but despite that has a quick and fairly simple routine. She needs the water pressure to pound the everloving hell out of her back. Loofa on a stick user. Like Wyll, she has fallen asleep in a bathtub, in part thanks to having and using a bath cushion. Truly, the expert on bath-based comfort.

Minsc: Also sings in the shower. LOUDLY. Boo is allowed to sit a shelf out of the way. The best way to get him to use lotion is to give him something that smells yummy. He has similar problems to Halsin regarding fitting in bathtubs. He tries anyway. He has been banned from at least one hotspring for doing a cannonball.

[lolahauri]

preggers anon, i did mean all 3 of them but you dont have to! + what you wrote for Toby was really good

Ahh I'm sorry love! :( here's hc's for Hoodie! I'll do Masky's next soon!

˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :Pregnant With Hoodies Baby:;

-> F/M, HC's, Pregnancy, Fluff & Smut, Nipple Play, Outercourse, PiV Sex, Hoodie Kills A Guy, Nothing Crazy <- (MDNI)

~

Acts of service king.

From the moment you found out you were pregnant, he insisted on doing all the labor around the house.

So for you, that means no lifting heavy items, no deep cleaning, no fixing things, no yardwork, etc... etc...

No intense exercise either!

Only lets you do low effort activities like light cleaning, cooking, baking, nature walks, or yoga.

He'll let you go shopping if you want, but he's driving, pushing the cart, and carrying all the bags in the house. 🤭

As your pregnancy gets further along and you start to get heavier symptoms, he'll also do things like helping you shower and shave, making you breakfast in bed, massages, and home spa days.

Overall, lots of princess treatment. <3

That also extends to the bedroom as well.

He's always been more of a soft dom who loves to please, but that gets amplified by 100 when you're pregnant.

His breeding kink goes crazyyy.

So turned on by your new glow and extra thickness.

Just has the insatiable need to please you, he doesn't even want anything in return, just pleasseee let him eat you out until you can't cum anymore.

And he will too! He won't stop until you're done, no matter how sore his tongue and jaw get.

Would also be obsessed with your tits, he can't get over how plump and sensitive they are now. <3

Loves to play with one nipple, suck on the other, and rub your clit all the same time.

If he's not also inside you while he does that, then he's definitely humping your ass or thigh instead.

When in missionary, he gently holds and rubs your belly, telling you "you're so beautiful", and that "you're gonna be such a good mommy."

Fantasizes about getting a titjob from you, but probably wouldn't ask outright (you can tell though hehe).

If you let him fuck your tits, he'll be playing with your nipples until you orgasm from that alone.

(yes that can happen.)

Also loves a good pussy/thigh job. 😋

Back to sfw:

He'd be such a stalker too.

But unlike Toby who physically clings to his partner, he instead watches you from a distance.

He trusts you of course, and knows you always try to be safe, but he doesn't trust other people. Specifically other men.

Very jealous, protective, and possessive. He tries to not let you see that though.

He's just both worried for your safety, given his job, and worried about other people hitting on you.

He's not stupid, he knows that men love pregnant women, and the thought someone else checking you out or flirting with you makes his blood boil.

And best believe if anyone does bother you, he's following them home that night. 💀

Cut to you at home watching the news the next day:

*Breaking news! A young man was found murdered in his apartment this morning!*

"Hey, he kinda looks like the creep who catcalled me yesterday.🤔"

"..."

"Let's change the channel..."

😭

In general, he'd be soo doting and protective of you. Easily the best proxy to make babies with. hehe <3

[acute-scary]

Between the Ropes.. a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley Fanfic.

Chapter 15: Now Wait A Damn Hour..

Rhea sat cross-legged on the couch, surrounded by the warmth of furry bodies—her pets snuggled close, and Jon and Trinity’s dogs sprawled out on the floor around her. The comforting sound of Snapped droned in the background, but Rhea was more invested in the chips she was munching on, crinkling the bag as she reached for another handful.

Her eyes were fixed on the screen when a scene unfolded. "That's where he fucked up!" she exclaimed, pointing at the TV. "Do you see that shit, guys? Left the damn murder weapon!" The dogs’ ears perked up at her voice, some looking her way as if they understood her frustration. “Amateurs," she muttered, shaking her head as she tossed a chip toward one of the dogs, who happily caught it.

Jey had been gone for what felt like hours, and her stomach growled, reminding her that she was waiting on only two things: Hawaiian pizza and brownies. How hard could it be to find that in Florida? she thought to herself, glancing at the time on her phone. She was just about ready to order DoorDash if he didn’t show up soon. Her hunger was gnawing at her now, and the thought of warm pizza was starting to make her impatient.

Suddenly, her phone rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. She jumped, her heart skipping a beat as she fumbled for it on the couch. Rhea had forgotten she’d changed her ringtone and the unfamiliar sound made her chest tighten with unease. She grabbed the phone and answered without checking the number, a knot forming in her stomach.

“Hello. You have a collect call from the Orange County Jail from Inmate Number 2498148 … 'Matthew Adams,' do you wish to accept the charges?”

Her breath caught in her throat. The sound of Matt’s name made her blood run cold. She stared at the phone for a split second, heart pounding, before she abruptly hung up. A shiver ran down her spine, and her hands shook as she blocked the number.

She quickly called Jey, her fingers trembling as she dialed. The phone rang, and Rhea anxiously waited for him to pick up, her thoughts spiraling.

The phone rang once, twice, and by the third ring, Rhea was tapping her foot anxiously against the floor, biting her lip. Finally, Jey’s voice came through, a bit muffled but familiar.

“Yo, what’s up?”

“Where are you?” Rhea blurted out, her voice sharp with a mix of fear and frustration.

There was a pause on the other end. “I’m about ten minutes out, got caught in traffic. I’ve got the pizza and brownies. What’s wrong? You sound off babe.”

Rhea swallowed hard, trying to calm herself, but the chill from Matt’s call still clung to her. “Matt,” she whispered, barely able to say his name aloud. “He just called. From jail.”

The line went silent for a moment before Jey spoke again, his voice low and serious. “Did you answer it?”

“I—I didn’t mean to. I didn’t recognize the number, and then I heard his name, and I just hung up. I blocked it, but—God, Jey, I didn’t think I’d ever hear from him again.”

Jey cursed under his breath. “That bastard. I swear, if I ever—” He cut himself off, trying to rein in his anger. “He’s just trying to mess with you, babe. He knows he’s lost. Don’t let him get in your head.”

Rhea closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m trying, but after everything… the baby, the hospital, the detectives—" She paused, her voice trembling. "I thought it was over. Why is he still doing this? Why can’t he just leave me alone?”

Jey’s voice softened, filled with concern. “I’m almost there, okay? Just hang tight. We’ll figure this out together, like we always do.”

Rhea nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. She needed him here, more than ever. “Okay. Just… hurry.”

They ended the call, and Rhea sat there for a moment, staring at her phone, her heart still racing. She glanced down at the dogs, who had sensed her distress and were now crowding closer, their eyes filled with concern. She reached out to pet them, her fingers sinking into their soft fur as a way to ground herself. The warmth from them was comforting, but it didn’t chase away the chill that Matt’s call had left behind.

Jey had always been her anchor in the chaos, and she needed that now more than ever. The weight of everything — the affair, the pregnancy, the loss — was becoming heavier each day, and now, with Matt trying to claw his way back into her life, it felt like she was being suffocated all over again.

Rhea took a deep breath, pushing the fear aside. She had faced worse. She was strong. But deep down, she couldn’t deny the fact that Matt’s shadow still lingered over her life, and now, he had made his presence known once again. She clenched her fists. Not again. Not this time.

Minutes felt like hours as she waited for Jey. When the door finally swung open, the smell of pizza hit her before Jey even said a word. He stepped into the room with Jon trailing behind, carrying the pizza and brownies, but the look on his face showed he was more concerned about her than anything else.

“I’m here,” he said softly, setting the food down on the coffee table before walking over to her. Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms, and she melted into him, feeling the weight of her fear and anxiety momentarily lift as his warmth enveloped her.

“He’s not gonna touch you, ever again,” Jey whispered against her hair. “Not while I’m here.”

Rhea clung to him, her eyes shut tight as she let his words sink in. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to feel safe. But in the back of her mind, she knew this wasn’t the end. Not yet.

As Rhea pulled away from Jey’s arms, Jon stood nearby, watching them with concern. After a moment, he broke the silence.

“Rhea, you need to change your number,” Jon said, his voice gentle but firm. “Blocking him won’t stop him forever. This is the only way to make sure he can’t reach you again.”

Jey nodded, stepping in to back him up. “Yeah, I’ll add you to my plan, make it easy. We can do it today. No more of this Matt crap getting in your head.”

Rhea broke free from the hug and shook her head. “I don’t want to run. I’m not hiding from him,” she said, frustration creeping into her voice. “I’m not going to let him make me live in fear.”

Jon stepped closer, his face soft with understanding but still firm. “This isn’t running, Rhea. It’s protecting yourself. You’re not giving him power—you’re just putting up walls so he can’t reach you. That’s not weakness. It’s strength.”

Rhea looked away for a moment, chewing on her lip as she thought about it. Jon had a point, but it still felt like she was giving in, in some small way. After a beat, she sighed, nodding. “Okay… you’re right. I’ll do it.”

Jon gave a slight smile of approval, and Jey’s serious expression lightened. “Good. Now let’s focus on something better, like food.” He moved to the coffee table, flipping open the pizza box.

Rhea’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at the box. “Hold on… is that Pizza Hut?” she asked, raising a brow.

Jey grinned, pulling out a slice of the Hawaiian pizza she’d requested. “Yeah, it was the fastest option. What, not fancy enough for you?”

Rhea took the slice, biting into it with a smirk. “No, no, it’s perfect. I just thought it’d be my last meal before I end up on Snapped. You know, murder charges and all that.” Her tone was dark, but the joke was clear.

Jey burst out laughing, while Jon chuckled and shook his head. “You’ve got a twisted sense of humor, you know that?” Jey said, still laughing.

“Hey,” Rhea said, waving the pizza slice. “If I ever get caught, it won’t be because I left the damn murder weapon out like those idiots.” She shot a look at the TV, where Snapped was still playing in the background.

Jey grinned, sitting down beside her with his own slice. “Nah, you’re way too smart for that. If anyone’s surviving this mess, it’s you.”

Rhea smiled, feeling a little more grounded. It wasn’t over, but for the first time in days, she gained control.

--

Jey lay on the king-sized bed, his phone pressed to his ear as he spoke to the customer service representative. Meanwhile, Rhea sat cross-legged beside him, carefully painting her nails a sleek black. Jon, stretched out on the floor with his dogs lounging around him, was taking in the scene with quiet amusement.

"$1,600 for a phone?" Jey exclaimed, clearly in disbelief. Rhea flashed him a mischievous smile but kept her focus on her nails.

"Yeah, yeah, I still want to get it. It’s the only one she wants…" Jey added reluctantly, glancing at her as if he had no choice in the matter. Rhea just shrugged with a smirk, clearly enjoying how easily she could sway him.

"Desert Titanium, 1TB. No, I don’t need the AppleCare," Jey said, and before he could react, Rhea punched him lightly on the shoulder using her dried hand.

“Ow—nevermind! I’ll take the AppleCare,” Jey quickly corrected himself, giving her a side-eye as he rubbed his arm. “No, I don’t need a case…” Before he could finish, Rhea punched him again, this time a little harder.

“Oww! Okay, okay, a case! A pink one.” Jey grinned, trying to get a rise out of her.

Rhea wasn’t having it and immediately threw another punch.

“Ow! Fine, fine, a black one! I’m sorry,” Jey groaned, defeated, as Jon watched the entire exchange from the floor, barely containing his laughter.

"$49 for a car charger?" Jey blurted out, the incredulity back in his voice. This time, before Rhea could punch him, he held up his hand in defense. But Rhea was quicker. With a grin, she used her foot instead, lightly kicking him in the side.

“Owww… okay, yes, please! Throw in whatever other accessories you’ve got; I’m begging you,” Jey pleaded, his voice a mix of pain and surrender. Jon burst out laughing, thoroughly entertained by the whole ordeal.

When Jey finally got off the phone, he turned to Rhea, a playful smirk on his face. “Your Highness, your $1,800 phone order will be ready for pickup tomorrow, Saturday, at 3:30 PM,” he said with exaggerated amusement, bowing his head slightly in mock servitude.

Rhea smiled, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Good boy,” she teased, and they both laughed, feeling at ease in the comfort of each other’s company.

Jon, still lying on the floor, wiped a tear from his eye, unable to stop laughing at Jey’s ordeal. "You two are something else," he muttered, shaking his head as his dogs nuzzled him.

“Bestieeeee!” Rhea exclaimed, practically glowing as she wiggled her freshly painted black nails in front of Jey. Her excitement was infectious.

“Oooh, girrrrl!” Jey responded in a playful tone, admiring her nails. “Looking fierce!”

Jon, lounging on the floor with the dogs, glanced up with a bored expression. “What are we going to do? I’m getting kind of restless here.”

Jey chuckled, shaking his head. “Uce’, you can’t just enjoy a comfortable situation for once? Always gotta be on the go, huh?”

Before Jon could respond, there was a knock on the door. The sudden sound made all three of them freeze, curiosity piqued.

“I’ll get it you scaredy cats.” Jon said, pushing himself off the floor and heading towards the stairs.

As he made his way down, he called out, “Awh hell, bisexual Undertaker is in Uso territory!” His laugh echoed up the stairs, mingling with the sound of his footsteps.

Rhea’s eyes widened in excitement, and despite the pain in her abdomen, she sprang up from the bed, moving with surprising speed. She darted towards the stairs, nearly tripping in her haste but managing to catch herself just in time. Her smile was so wide it seemed to light up the entire hallway.

When Rhea reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Damian standing at the door, his presence commanding and warm.

“Damian!” she shouted, her voice filled with joy.

Damian grinned, taking in the sight of Rhea’s enthusiasm. “Hey there, my Tormenta.” He said even with a bigger smile.

Rhea ran to him, almost tackling him with a hug. “I can’t believe you’re here! This is the best surprise ever!”

Jey appeared at the top of the stairs, looking down with a pleased expression. “Guess I should’ve known you’d show up when we least expected it.”

Damian laughed, ruffling Rhea’s hair. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by. Hope I’m not interrupting anything too serious.”

Rhea shook her head, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “No way, this is exactly what we needed. Come on in, let’s hang out!”

Damian stepped inside, and the group began to settle back into the living room. The atmosphere lightened as they prepared to enjoy the unexpected visit. For the first time in a while, Rhea felt a genuine sense of joy, surrounded by her best friend.

—

As the music from the speakers filled the patio once more, creating a lively and upbeat atmosphere, Jon busied himself with his phone, ordering some more food and drinks. He turned to Damian with a grin, asking, “What kind of beer do you want?”

Damian shrugged casually, “Whatever you’re drinking is fine by me.”

“Got it,” Jon replied, tapping away on his phone as he added a few more items to the order.

Soon enough, all four of them—Rhea, Jey, Jon, and Damian—settled comfortably on the back patio. The pets were a whirlwind of activity, running around the backyard and adding to the joyful chaos. The warm evening air and the sounds of their laughter made the setting feel almost like a scene from a perfect day.

Rhea, still bubbling with excitement from Damian’s unexpected arrival, turned to him with curiosity. “So, Damian, how did you end up here? And why’d you leave Kayden at the Airbnb?”

Damian chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed demeanor. “Well, Mr. Hothead over here,” he said, gesturing to Jon with a playful smirk, “called me up yesterday and asked if I could be a… como… a Happy Dark Presence in his home for his fellow Samoan. Couldn’t say no to that. I also didn’t leave Kayden at the AirBnb. She had Tiffany come and stay with her, I told her you needed cheering up and she understood.”

Rhea’s face lit up with pure joy. “That’s amazing! I’m so glad you’re here. You really made my day.”

Jey, sitting beside Rhea, chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Yeah, I guess I did keep you locked up this morning, didn’t I?”

Damian grinned, winking at Jey. “You know, it’s like I’m Shrek and Rhea’s Fiona and you are Fiona’s dad. Just needed a little help to get out of that tower.”

Rhea burst into laughter, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh my God, that’s perfect! Damian, you’re definitely our Shrek.”

Jey laughed along with the others, shaking his head. “As long as I’m not Lord Farquad, then I guess I can live with it.”

As the conversation flowed seamlessly, Rhea’s curiosity about Jon and Jey’s tattoos grew. “I’d love to hear more about your tattoos,” she said, leaning in. “I’ve seen bits of them, but I want to know the stories behind them.”

Jon and Jey exchanged an amused glance. Jon began to explain with enthusiasm, “Our tattoos are deeply significant. They reflect our Samoan heritage, each design representing aspects of family, strength, and personal journey. They’re not just tattoos; they’re a narrative of who we are.”

Rhea’s eyes sparkled with interest. “That’s incredible. I’ve been thinking about getting a new tattoo. Something with real meaning.”

Jon’s eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and mischief. “Would you consider a traditional Samoan tattoo, Rhea?”

Damian nodded encouragingly. “It would be a great way for you to mark this new chapter in your life. It’s a powerful form of self-expression.”

Jon added, “Our tattoo artist is at our dad’s house right now. With one call, he could be here in an hour.”

Rhea’s face brightened at the thought. “That sounds fantastic! I’d really love that.”

Jey, who had been quietly observing, suddenly interrupted with a firm, “No, no, no…”

Rhea looked at him, confused. “What do you mean, no?”

Jey’s gaze faltered, struggling to find the right words. His mind was racing with emotions he hadn’t fully expressed. The reason for his hesitation was more profound than he had initially let on. He wanted to get matching traditional Samoan wedding tattoos with Rhea. It wasn’t just about getting inked; it was about symbolizing their commitment to each other in a way that was deeply meaningful.

Jey’s voice softened, laden with emotion. “It’s not the right time for that. I don’t want you to rush into something like this.”

Rhea, sensing there was more to Jey’s reluctance, nodded and excused herself to the bathroom, leaving Jey, Jon, and Damian alone in the patio.

As soon as Rhea was out of sight, Jey turned to Jon with a troubled expression. “Don’t tempt her like that,” he said quietly but firmly.

Damian, picking up on Jey’s distress, asked, “What’s going on?”

Jey took a deep breath, his face reflecting a mix of vulnerability and determination. “I want to marry Rhea,” he confessed, his voice cracking slightly. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I finally talked to the attorney today and he started on my divorce. I was hoping to get matching traditional Samoan wedding tattoos with her. It’s something that’s deeply meaningful to me. It’s not just about a tattoo; it’s about marking our commitment, our future together in a way that honors our heritage.”

Jon’s expression shifted to one of understanding. “So, it’s not just about the tattoo. You want it to be a part of a bigger commitment.”

Jey nodded, his eyes earnest. “Exactly. I want it to be special, something that signifies our journey together and our promise to each other. I didn’t want her to rush into a tattoo without understanding how important this is to me. I want it to be something we do together, when we’re both ready for it.”

Damian’s eyes softened, touched by Jey’s heartfelt confession. “Jey, that’s incredibly meaningful. It’s clear you’re thinking about this with a lot of love and respect.”

Jon clapped Jey on the shoulder. “You’re right. It should be something truly special. You should talk to her when you’re ready. She’ll understand.”

The moment she excused herself from the patio, Rhea’s excitement about Damian’s surprise was tinged with an underlying tension. As she walked towards the bathroom, she felt a familiar pull toward the bedroom. The pain in her abdomen had been nagging at her, and the stress of everything lately was becoming overwhelming.

Once inside the bedroom, she made her way to the dresser where she kept her pain pills. She had been taking them more frequently lately, savoring the temporary relief they brought. The escape they provided was becoming a comfort, and she was starting to crave that sensation more and more.

Rhea grabbed the small bottle of pills as she thought of a very awful idea. As she shook out a few tablets, she felt a pang of guilt for needing them so badly, but the allure of the numbness was too strong to resist. She looked around the room, searching for something to help her crush the pills into a fine powder. Her eyes landed on a small glass vase with fake flowers, which added a touch of charm to the room.

The vase seemed perfect for the task. She picked it up, feeling its cool, smooth surface in her hand. With a determined expression, she used the vase to crush the pills into powder. Each motion of the vase against the pills made her heart race with anticipation. The process was oddly satisfying, almost ritualistic. Once the pills were reduced to a fine powder, she wiped the bottom with her hand and she placed the vase back on the shelf, trying to fix it to it's right place.

Her hands trembled slightly as she prepared to snort the powdered pills. She knew it wasn’t the safest method, but the instant relief was too tempting. She pulled out her wallet from dresser drawer and pulled a debit card out. She used it fix it into three perfect lines, she then wiped off the debit card and grabbed a crisp dollar from her wallet, she rolled it into a makeshift straw and with a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, she did the unthinkable...

The act of snorting the powder was a jarring experience, but as the effects began to kick in, she felt a rush of relief that made the discomfort and anxiety melt away. The numbing sensation started to spread through her, dulling the sharp edges of her reality. She leaned against the wall, her mind drifting in a haze of euphoria.

For a brief moment, everything felt lighter. The weight of her worries and the strain of the day seemed to dissolve into nothingness. She allowed herself to sink into the comforting embrace of the high, feeling both liberated and trapped in the same breath. She knew she was slipping further into a dangerous habit, but for now, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She quickly wiped her nose off and checked herself in the mirror, she wiped off the remaining residue and quickly washed her hands.

As she slowly made her way back to the patio, the world around her felt distant, almost dreamlike. She plastered a smile on her face, hoping to hide the fact that she was high and not fully present. Despite the warmth of her friends and the joy of Damian’s surprise, Rhea couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that she was losing control, even as the pills provided her a fleeting sense of euphoria.

--

A few hours earlier, Jon sat quietly in the lobby area of Brentley and Barnum Law Firm, tapping his foot nervously against the polished floor. He glanced around at the modern decor—tasteful, minimalist, designed to put clients at ease. But Jon wasn’t at ease. He hated this waiting game simply because he could only look at tiktok for so long.

Inside the sleek office, Jey sat across from Julian, the lawyer WWE had hired for him. Julian was calm, professional, and had an air of confidence that came with years of navigating high-stakes legal battles. After discussing Matt’s arrest and the legal implications for Rhea and Jey, Julian finally leaned back in his chair and gave the update Jey had been waiting for.

“You and Rhea can leave Orlando on Sunday,” Julian said. “Given the charges against Matt and his current incarceration, there’s no legal reason for you to stay here any longer.”

Jey exhaled, feeling a small weight lift from his chest. "Good," he muttered, though the thought of Matt still being out there, even behind bars, gnawed at him. He shifted in his seat, his mind racing toward a different issue—his marriage to Takecia.

“I wanted to ask you something else,” Jey said, his voice quieter now. He met Julian’s eyes, hesitant for a moment before continuing, “Can you represent me in my divorce?”

Julian raised an eyebrow, intrigued but not surprised. “Your divorce in California?”

Jey nodded. “Yeah, San Francisco. Takecia’s already got herself a lawyer. It’s… it’s happening.”

Julian thought for a moment before responding. “I still have my license in California. That’s where I started my practice. I can absolutely represent you, Jey, but we’ll need to go over the details.”

Jey nodded again, appreciating the professionalism. He wanted this done quickly, cleanly. He didn’t want any more mess than there already was in his life. “I’m going for an uncontested divorce. We’ve already talked about it, and she’s laid out her demands.”

Julian sat up straighter, the gears in his mind turning as he considered the process. “An uncontested divorce means you both agree on all terms—no arguments, no drawn-out court battles. It’s usually the smoother option. However, you’ll still have to deal with California’s six-month waiting period before the divorce is finalized.”

“I understand,” Jey said. “I just want to be fair. For the petition, I’m agreeing to pay for our kids’ college education, we’re going to do shared custody, and Takecia keeps the house. That’s what she wants.”

Julian leaned forward, tapping his pen thoughtfully against his legal pad. “That’s a reasonable arrangement, especially if you’re both on the same page. But are you sure about giving her the house? It’s a significant asset.”

Jey nodded firmly. “Yeah. The house is where she’s raising our kids. I don’t need it.”

Julian took notes, satisfied with Jey’s clarity on the situation. “Okay. We’ll file the petition with those terms. I’ll need you to sign some documents to get things moving, and after that, we’ll let the legal process take its course. You’re looking at about six months before it’s finalized, as I mentioned.”

Jey rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a strange mixture of relief and sadness. Six months. Six months of waiting, of knowing his marriage was ending, of officially closing that chapter of his life. A part of him felt guilt for how it had all unraveled, but another part of him felt an overwhelming sense of inevitability. His heart hadn’t been with Takecia for a long time, not since he met Rhea. This was just the final step in a process that had begun months ago.

Julian glanced over the papers, then looked back at Jey. “If you’re sure this is what you want, I’ll handle it. You’ll be free to move on with your life once everything’s finalized.”

Jey swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. I’m sure. Just… let’s get it done.”

The lawyer nodded, wrapping up the conversation as they stood to shake hands. Jey left Julian’s office feeling like he was walking toward a new beginning but also carrying the weight of his past. As he walked back into the lobby, Jon looked up from his seat, his expression a blend of curiosity and concern.

“How’d it go?” Jon asked, standing up to meet him.

Jey sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s happening. The divorce is going through. Six months, and it’s over.”

Jon clapped his brother on the shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s for the best, Uce. You deserve to be happy.”

Jey didn’t respond right away, but he nodded, the weight of the decision settling into his chest. There was no turning back now. The path forward was clearer than ever, but that didn’t make it any easier to walk.

--

As the evening wore on, Rhea, Damian, Jey, and Jon were all in high spirits, enjoying each other's company and the warmth of Damian’s surprise visit. The conversation flowed effortlessly as each of them each hard a topic to talk about. Suddenly, Damian’s phone rang, breaking into their lively discussion.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Damian said, standing up and stepping away from the group to take the call.

Rhea watched him with a curious glance, but the conversation was muffled as Damian moved a few paces away. After a few moments, Damian’s face tightened with concern, and he responded more seriously.

“Hey, Dominik. What’s up?” Damian asked.

There was a pause as Dominik Mysterio’s voice came through the line. “Hey, Damian. I just got a call from Matt. He’s in jail and apparently looking for Rhea. Do you know anything about this?”

Damian’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Matt. He had been hoping the situation would remain under control, but it seemed Matt’s attempts to reach out were escalating. Damian’s mind raced with the implications.

“Yeah, I know,” Damian replied, his tone heavy with apprehension. “Matt has been trying to contact Rhea. But please, don’t say anything about this to anyone else. It’s important.”

Dominik didn’t ask for further details, simply acknowledging Damian’s request. “Got it. I won’t say a word.”

Damian sighed with relief as the call ended. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before heading back to the group. With a determined look, he pulled out his phone and quickly sent a message to Paul Levesque, their boss.

Damian: Matt is going around calling other wrestlers, trying to reach Rhea. We need to handle this immediately.

Paul’s response came almost instantly.

Paul: I’ll take care of it. Thanks for the heads-up.

Damian put his phone away, a grim expression on his face as he rejoined the group. He forced a smile, trying to mask his concern, but the weight of Matt’s actions was clearly on his mind.

Jey noticed the shift in Damian’s demeanor and leaned in, concern evident. “Everything okay, Damian?”

Damian nodded, though his eyes betrayed his worry. “Yeah, just… had to deal with something. But we’re good for now. Let’s focus on enjoying the evening.”

The group resumed their conversation, but the shadow of Matt’s threat loomed over them, a reminder that not everything was as carefree as it seemed. Rhea, still feeling the effects of her earlier actions, was more focused on the present moment, trying to savor the time with her friends and momentarily push aside her anxieties.

As the night wore on, the clock struck 1 a.m., and Jon, heavily buzzed from the evening's festivities, excused himself, stumbling slightly as he made his way toward the guest room. He was ready for bed and couldn’t help but chuckle at Jey’s parting joke about needing lotion since Trinity was out of town.

“Shut up, Uce,” Jon said with a grin, flipping Jey off.

Damian, who had been enjoying the playful banter, chimed in with a smirk. “I guess I’m stuck with the couple tonight then.”

Jey grinned. “Uce, I love you, but Damian, you going on my nephew’s bed. Sorry, man.”

Rhea, still buzzing from the earlier excitement but feeling the weight of her own issues, laughed at the banter. As they all moved back inside, they gathered the pets, ushering them into the house with them. The house was now a cozy chaos of people and animals, but there was an underlying sense of warmth and camaraderie.

Jey showed Damian to the kid’s bedroom, a cheerful room full of toys and colorful decor. “Goodnight, Damian. If you need the bathroom, it’s just down the hall.”

Damian thanked him and bid goodnight to Rhea, who gave him a heartfelt hug. “Goodnight, Rhea. Sleep well.”

As Rhea and Jey headed to their own room, Jey couldn’t help but notice Rhea’s sluggish, almost detached manner. It was concerning, especially since she hadn’t had much to drink that evening. He tried to catch her eye, but she was already pulling her shirt over her body, revealing just her bra. For the first time, Jey’s attention was drawn to the bandage covering her abdomen, a reminder of the recent trauma she had endured.

Rhea noticed Jey’s gaze lingering on her bandage and, with a hint of defensiveness, asked, “What, don’t you want to fuck me anymore?”

Jey’s face fell, taken aback by the bluntness of her comment. It was completely out of character for her, and he could see the hurt and confusion in her eyes. He struggled to find the right words, feeling the weight of everything that had happened recently.

“It’s not that,” Jey said softly. “It’s just… with everything that’s been going on, I’m worried about you. I didn’t mean to make you feel… less.”

Rhea rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated. “I’m not a damn glass doll, Jey. I’m fine.”

Jey’s confusion deepened. They had just enjoyed a great night with friends, and now she was acting as if everything was falling apart. He could see the hurt in her eyes, the pain masked by her attempts to appear strong.

Rhea, with a sigh, put her shirt back on and climbed into bed, her back turned to Jey. The room fell into a heavy silence, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Jey lay beside her, his mind racing as he tried to understand the sudden shift in her mood. The night had started with laughter and companionship, but now it was tinged with a sense of melancholy and confusion.

As Rhea lay still, facing away from him, Jey reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “Rhea,” he said softly, “talk to me. What’s going on?”

But Rhea remained silent, the only response the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed. The weight of the night’s events pressed down on both of them, leaving them in a tangled web of emotions that neither knew how to unravel.

Jey’s frustration grew as he faced Rhea’s silence. Despite his repeated pleas to talk, she remained resolutely turned away. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. It wasn’t right, he knew that. He felt a pang of guilt, but his concern for her overshadowed his reservations.

He gently pulled her back toward him, his touch tender. For a moment, Rhea’s face lit up with the familiar, radiant smile that he loved so much. It was a small, fleeting comfort in the midst of their turmoil.

“What do you want daddy to do to you?” he asked softly, trying to keep his tone light despite the heaviness in his heart.

Rhea’s eyes, clouded and distant, barely focused on him. Her voice was a sluggish, almost inaudible slur. “Everything…”

The word hung in the air, and Jey felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The haze in her eyes and the way she spoke made him uneasy. This wasn’t the Rhea he knew. She was slipping into a state he didn’t fully understand, and it troubled him deeply.

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, his voice barely a whisper. “Soon,” he said, hoping to provide some comfort despite his own confusion and worry.

Rhea’s smile faded, and she rolled back onto her side, clearly irritated by his response. The warmth between them evaporated, leaving only a cold silence in its wake. Jey watched her, feeling a pang of helplessness. He had wanted to reach out to her, to fix what was wrong, but instead, it seemed he only managed to deepen the rift.

As Rhea settled back into bed, facing away from him, the room grew heavy with unspoken emotions. Jey lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of the night pressing down on him. He knew that Rhea was struggling, but he felt powerless to help her in the way she needed. His heart ached as he grappled with the complexity of her pain and his own sense of inadequacy.

The silence stretched on, filled with the quiet hum of the house and the distant sound of the pets moving about. Jey remained awake, his mind racing with worries and regrets, while Rhea’s shallow, uneven breaths filled the quiet room. The distance between them seemed insurmountable, and he wondered how they could bridge the gap that had grown so suddenly between them.

As the night wore on, the darkness outside mirrored the uncertainty within, and Jey was left alone with his thoughts, yearning for a solution he couldn’t yet grasp.

--

Rhea woke up with a pounding headache, her mind foggy from the previous night’s haze. The dim light filtering through the curtains only added to her discomfort. As she groaned and tried to sit up, the realization of not having showered before going to bed hit her. She glanced at Jey, who was still sleeping soundly beside her, his soft snoring a faint reminder of the comfort she had once felt.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him. With a groggy sense of urgency, she undressed and headed towards the bathroom, not fully processing her surroundings. Her foggy state of mind led her to forget that this was not their home and that Jon, Damian, and Jey were all in the house.

Turning on the shower, Rhea stepped under the hot water, letting it cascade over her and ease the tension in her muscles. The steam enveloped her, and she let out a sigh of relief as the heat worked its magic on her aching head. The shower was a sanctuary, a brief escape from the confusion and discomfort of the previous night.

After a few minutes, Rhea turned off the water, wrapped a towel around her body, and walked back towards the bedroom. The house was quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of the pets in the other rooms. As she reentered the room, she saw that Jey had woken up.

He looked at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. The sight of her in a towel, freshly showered and smiling, seemed out of place considering the mood from the night before. She approached him with a warm, somewhat uncertain smile and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Jey’s confusion deepened. “Morning, Rhea,” he said, his voice groggy. “You feeling okay?”

Rhea nodded, though she couldn’t fully remember the details of last night. “Yeah, I’m just… trying to shake off this headache. I forgot to shower and just needed to freshen up.”

Jey sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to piece together the previous night. He was still processing the sudden shift in her mood and the oddity of her early morning actions. “You’re not making much sense, Rhea. Last night—”

“I know,” she interrupted, her voice soft but determined. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember much, but I’m trying to make things right. I just wanted to start the day fresh.”

Jey took a deep breath, sensing that there was more beneath the surface of her cheerful facade. He reached out and took her hand gently. “Rhea, if something’s wrong, we need to talk about it. You can’t keep pushing it away.”

Rhea smiled weakly and squeezed his hand. “Let’s enjoy the morning and figure things out as we go.”

Jey hesitated but nodded, sensing that pushing further might only cause more strain. He watched as Rhea got dressed and moved around the room, a sense of unease still lingering between them. He wanted to understand what was going on, but for now, he decided to give her the space she seemed to need.

As Rhea prepared for the day, Jey remained thoughtful, the unease in his heart growing. He knew they needed to address the issues between them, but for now, he could only hope that the day would bring clarity and healing for both of them.

Rhea sat at the vanity, her movements deliberate as she applied her makeup. Her excitement about picking up her new iPhone was like it of a kid in a candy store, a small but significant joy in the midst of everything she had been dealing with. Jey, meanwhile, was styling his hair, focused on making sure he looked presentable for their outing.

“We’re finally getting out of the house,” Rhea said with a smile, her eyes brightening at the thought of the simple trip to the Verizon store.

Jey looked at her through the mirror, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, it’s about time. I know it’s not much, but it’s a step in the right direction.” Given last night’s tension, he figured he would give in to Rhea and finally take her out.

Damian and Jon had left earlier to explore the city. Damian, eager to see more of Florida, was taking full advantage of the opportunity to explore, as he had only been to the state a few times before. Rhea and Jey were left to themselves, and Jey decided to seize the moment for a quick errand.

Both of them were dressed in all black, a conscious decision by Rhea to cover up and maintain some semblance of privacy. It was a change compared to the usual vibrant colors Jey might wear, but it provided a sense of security and anonymity they craved.

As they left the house and made their way to the Verizon store, Rhea couldn’t help but feel a sense of liberation. The prospect of a new phone and a brief change of scenery was exhilarating, and she welcomed the distraction from the recent turmoil in her life.

When they arrived at the Verizon store, they checked in with the manager to ensure their privacy. To their relief, the store was quiet, with only two elderly women browsing through accessories. The tranquility of the store provided a welcoming to the chaos that had marked their recent days.

The manager greeted them with a friendly smile and guided them to the counter where Rhea’s iPhone was waiting. As Jey and Rhea approached, the manager quickly retrieved the phone from the back and handed it to Rhea with a flourish.

“There you go,” the manager said. “Your iPhone 16 Pro Max in Desert Titanium. I hope you enjoy it! The accessories and case are all here as well.”

Rhea’s eyes lit up as she took the phone, her excitement evident. “Thank you so much! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Jey watched her with a smile, pleased to see her happiness. “Glad we could get this sorted. Now we just need to get everything set up and you’ll be all set.”

Rhea nodded, her smile unwavering as she admired her new phone. The brief outing had already started to lift her spirits, and she was eager to go somewhere else and Jey knew just the right spot.

As Jey and Rhea left the Verizon store and got into Jon's car, Jey turned to Rhea with a warm smile. “How about we go watch the ocean?” he suggested.

Rhea’s face lit up instantly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Without hesitation, she leaned in and kissed him gently. “I am so in love with you,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with affection.

Jey’s heart swelled at her words. He started the car and began driving towards Titusville, FL, a serene spot just 46 minutes away. As they drove, Rhea reached out and placed her hand on his. Understanding the gesture, Jey gently took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. The simple touch brought a deep sense of comfort to both of them.

The drive was soothing, with Rhea feeling an unprecedented sense of calm and peace. The rhythmic hum of the car, coupled with the soft music playing through the speakers, added to her tranquility.

Jey's music filled the car, and Rhea found herself smiling as the melodies wrapped around them. “Oh, this is it right here, babe, just for you,” Jey said, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness as he turned up the volume. The familiar beat of "Let Me Hold You" by Bow Wow and Omarion began to play, setting a romantic mood.

As the chorus approached, Jey started singing along..

In my arms in my mind all the time I wanna Keep you right by my side 'til I die I'm gonna Hold you down and make sure everything is right with you You can never go wrong if you let me hold you

His voice steady and full of love as he kept his eyes focused on the road. His singing was a perfect mix of heartfelt and playful, creating a warm atmosphere inside the car.

Rhea couldn’t help but join in, her voice blending with his. Together, they sang along to the song, their voices harmonizing effortlessly. The moment was pure and joyful, a relief to the complications of their recent days.

Down like a real friend's supposed to I'm trying to show you The life of somebody like you should be living Ohhhhh, baby baby You could never go wrong if you let me hold you

The shared experience of singing along to their song, coupled with the comforting rhythm of the drive, made Rhea feel deeply connected to Jey. As the song played on, their hands remained clasped, and their smiles grew wider, their love for each other shining brightly in the soft light of the car.

The ocean was still some miles away, but in that moment, the journey felt like a celebration of their love and a brief escape from the troubles they had faced.

Jey and Rhea finally arrived in Titusville, FL, and Jey headed straight to his favorite spot, the Moonlight Drive Inn. The familiar neon sign and the comforting scent of burgers and fries greeted them.

“Do you want to come inside and check out the menu?” Jey asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Rhea shook her head with a smile. “Just get what you usually get. And add a lemonade for me, please.”

Jey nodded and went inside to place their order. He knew exactly what to get: the mouth-watering bacon double cheeseburger and sweet potato waffle fries. After a brief wait, the cashier called out his number, and Jey collected their food and drinks.

Returning to the car, Jey carefully placed the bags on the floor and made a quick 3-minute drive to the beach. They reached a secluded spot that Jey knew well, perfect for a quiet, intimate meal.

He parked the car and pulled out the two trays from underneath Jon’s car seat. After giving them a quick wipe to ensure they were clean, he retrieved the bags of food. With a gentle smile, he handed one of the bags to Rhea.

“What did you get me?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Jey opened the bag and revealed its contents. “A bacon double cheeseburger and sweet potato waffle fries. And I also grabbed some fried pickles and fried mushrooms for us to share.”

Rhea’s eyes lit up with delight. “You’re the best,” she said, taking the bag from him.

They settled into their seats, the car providing a cozy refuge from the gentle breeze outside. Rhea eagerly unwrapped her burger and took a big bite. Her eyes closed in pleasure as she savored the taste.

“Oh my god,” she moaned, her voice full of satisfaction. “That’s a good fucking burger.”

Jey chuckled, watching her enjoy the food. He took a bite of his own burger, nodding in agreement. “Told you it was worth it.”

As they ate, the car was filled with the soft sounds of their enjoyment and the rhythmic crashing of the waves in the distance. The simplicity of the meal and the serene setting made the moment feel special, a perfect break from the recent chaos in their lives.

After finishing their meal and taking in the serene view of the ocean, Jey and Rhea found themselves enveloped in a cocoon of intimacy within the car. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing soundtrack as they inched closer, their eyes reflecting the soft glow of the fading sun.

Their kisses started gently, a tender exploration of each other's lips. Each touch was careful and deliberate, as if they were savoring the newfound closeness. Jey’s hands slid to Rhea’s face, his fingers tracing delicate lines along her jaw, his thumb brushing softly against her cheek. Rhea responded with equal devotion, her hands weaving through his hair, pulling him closer, their breaths mingling in the small space of the car.

The passion between them deepened with every kiss, growing more fervent and urgent. Their bodies pressed together, creating a tangible warmth that seemed to ignite the air around them. Jey’s lips moved over Rhea’s with a mix of tenderness and intensity, each kiss conveying a thousand unspoken words of love and desire.

Rhea’s response was just as fervent; she clung to him, her fingers roaming over his back and shoulders, her lips dancing against his with an eagerness that mirrored his own. The world outside their car became a distant blur, leaving them in a cocoon of shared passion and connection. Their kisses were an eloquent expression of the deep bond they felt, each touch and caress a testament to their profound intimacy.

Just as the moment reached its peak, the car’s voice interrupted, announcing a call from Jon.

The car's voice came through, “You've got a call from Twin. Do you want to answer or reject?"

Jey sighed, a bit annoyed at the interruption. “Yes, Jonathan, what do you want?” he answered, trying to mask his frustration.

Jon’s voice crackled through the speaker, carrying a hint of impatience. “Any chance Bonnie and Clyde are joining us for dinner? Me and my lovely wife, who just got in and is a bit cranky, and the bisexual undertaker have booked a reservation for a private dinner.”

Jey couldn’t help but chuckle at Jon’s description. “You’re really laying it on thick, huh? I guess we’ll join you.”

Rhea, overhearing the conversation, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, let’s go. I’m up for it.”

Jey relayed the message to Jon, who confirmed that the reservation was for 9 PM. He then hung up, leaving Jey and Rhea to realize that it was already 6 PM.

After ending the call, Jey looked at Rhea, who was still catching her breath, her cheeks flushed from their passionate encounter. “We’ve got a bit of time before dinner,” Jey said with a playful grin.

Rhea, her smile still lingering from their intimate exchange, shook her head with a soft laugh. “I can’t believe we’ve been lost in each other for almost an hour.”

Jey’s eyes sparkled with affection as he teased her. “You’ve got lungs of steel, you know that?”

Rhea rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re impossible,” she said, nudging him playfully. The warmth between them was caring, their earlier connection translating into a shared laughter that only deepened their bond.

As they drove back, their hands intertwined, they were both content and at peace. The romance of their moments together had created a beautiful memory, and the anticipation of spending time with Jon, Trinity, and Damian only added to the joy of their evening. They knew that the night ahead would be a cherished continuation of their special connection, filled with moments of warmth, laughter, and love.

—

Rhea stood in front of the open closet, arms crossed, biting her lip as she scanned through Trinity's collection of dresses. The closet was bursting with color — vibrant yellows, deep reds, pastel blues — a more girly change to her own darker wardrobe back home. She tugged at one dress, a flowy floral number, and held it up with a look of mild frustration.

"Why does Trinity have nothing but color?" she muttered, shaking her head as she looked through another handful of dresses.

Jey, stretched out on the bed with his phone in hand, glanced over at her, amused. "Not everyone is as dark as you," he teased, the corners of his lips lifting into a smirk. "But come here for a sec."

Rhea sighed, setting the dress back on its hanger and making her way over to Jey's side, her brows furrowing as she noticed the Zillow app open on his screen. "What is it? Pensacola?" she asked, eyeing the house listing he was showing her.

Jey nodded, sliding the phone into her hand. "Yeah. Trinity and Jon are gonna sell this house. They wanna’ move back to Pensacola."

Rhea blinked, surprised. "Seriously? I thought they loved it here."

"They do," Jey said, sitting up and leaning closer to her. "But Jon’s missing home, and you know how it is with the family. Trinity’s down for it, too. Says she wants to be closer to everyone." He paused for a moment, reading the skepticism on her face. "It's just a rental for now, though. Nothing permanent."

Rhea glanced back at the listing as Jey swiped down showing her the photos of the property, still unsure. She liked the idea of being closer to the family, but a sudden move like this felt...unsettling. Especially after everything that had happened recently. "I don’t know, Jey... I mean, it's been crazy lately. Now moving?"

He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, kissing her temple. "Babe, it's gonna be alright. Plus, my dad's putting the house in Titusville on Airbnb. He’s moving back to Pensacola, too. Everyone's gonna be around. It’ll be good, trust me."

She looked down at the phone in her hand, then back at Jey, the warmth of his arm around her easing her nerves just a bit. "Yeah, I guess... it could be good. I just don’t want any more surprises, you know?"

Jey smiled, brushing a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "No more surprises. Just family, okay? We'll figure everything out."

Rhea leaned into him, feeling a small sense of calm as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Alright... I'll trust you. But I still gotta figure out what to wear for this dinner," she added, her voice lightening as she gestured to the colorful closet with a faint chuckle.

Jey grinned, tapping the screen of his phone again. "Well, at least I don’t have to worry about that. I already know what I’m wearing."

Rhea rolled her eyes, playfully shoving him. "Of course you do. Lucky you."

After what felt like an eternity of sifting through endless colorful options, Rhea finally settled on something that felt more like her. She tugged a little black lace dress from the back of the closet — sleek, fitted, and unapologetically bold. As soon as she slid it on, she knew it was the one. The way it hugged her curves made her feel confident, even if it was a bit tighter than she wanted. She twisted around in front of the mirror, admiring the way the lace glistened under the light, but there was one problem — the back was too tight.

Rhea huffed in frustration, tugging at the zipper, but it wouldn’t budge. Defeated, she slipped out of the room and into the bedroom where Jey was still lounging, focused on his phone.

"Jey, can you help me?" she asked, trying to sound casual, but there was a hint of irritation in her voice.

Jey didn’t look up at first, too absorbed in scrolling through his Zillow listings, but the moment he glanced over at her, his jaw nearly dropped. He blinked, slowly lowering the phone as he took in the sight of her in that dress. The tight black lace clung to her in all the right places, and the subtle sheen gave her an almost dangerous allure. He’d seen Rhea look amazing before, but this? This was next level.

“Damn, babe,” Jey muttered, his voice low, clearly blown away. “You look… insane.”

Rhea gave him a smirk, feeling her confidence swell even more at his reaction. "Yeah? Well, you can admire me after you fix this." She turned her back to him, pulling her hair to the side to reveal the too-tight zipper.

Jey got up quickly, still a bit speechless as he moved behind her. His fingers brushed her skin as he carefully loosened the zipper, his eyes never leaving her reflection in the mirror. "You seriously look amazing," he said quietly, his hands lingering for a moment longer than needed as he adjusted the back of the dress.

Rhea caught his gaze in the mirror and smiled, biting her lip. "Glad you like it," she teased. "Now focus, I need to be able to breathe at dinner."

Jey chuckled, finally loosening the zipper just enough to give her some room, he used the buttons inside the dress to fill the gap from the zipper and he couldn’t help himself from letting his hands rest on her waist for a moment longer. "If we weren’t going to dinner with Jon and Trinity, I’d suggest we stay in," he murmured, half-joking, half-serious.

Rhea turned around, playfully swatting his chest. "Nice try. We’re going, and you’re gonna sit across from me and pretend like you’re not thinking about this dress all night."

Jey grinned, pulling her closer for a quick kiss. "Deal. But just know, I’ll be thinking about it."

Jey finally slipped into his outfit, looking sharp and relaxed in his black button-up shirt and fitted jeans. He adjusted his collar in the mirror while Rhea fussed with her makeup, adding the final touches to her look. Once satisfied, he stepped back, nodding to himself. "Alright, I'm heading downstairs," he said, giving Rhea a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.

As he made his way downstairs, he found Damian, Jon, and Trinity standing around in the living room, chatting and laughing. Trinity noticed him first, checking her phone. “It’s almost 8:30… we gotta gooooooo,” she teased, dragging out the words with a playful smirk.

Jey rolled his eyes, pulling his phone out. "Alright, alright. Let me call Rhea before y’all lose it." He reached over the stairs and called up the stairs, "Babe, we gotta roll!"

From upstairs, Rhea’s voice echoed back, "Coming!" She grabbed her new iPhone and wallet from the dresser, giving herself one last glance in the mirror. Satisfied, she took a deep breath and strutted down the stairs.

As she stepped into the living room, all conversation halted. Damian, Jon, and Trinity stared at her, their jaws slightly dropping as she descended the stairs in that little black lace dress. Jey stood there, grinning like a fool, unable to hide his pride.

Damian broke the silence with a laugh, shaking his head. “Where’s the stereo so I can play Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer? It’s giving She’s All That.”

Rhea stopped at the bottom of the stairs, glancing down at her outfit, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under all the attention. "Too much?" she asked, her brows furrowed as she tugged slightly at the hem of the dress.

Immediately, they all shook their heads, a chorus of "No!" erupting from the group.

"Rhea," Trinity said, stepping forward with a smile, "you can personally have that dress because no one else could pull it off like you. Trust me, it’s perfect."

Rhea’s tense expression melted into a smile. "Thanks, Trin," she said, feeling more confident again.

Jey extended his arm out toward her, a charming grin still plastered on his face. “My beautiful girlfriend…” he said, emphasizing the words as if he wanted the whole world to know.

Rhea smiled, taking his arm and glancing at him with affection. "You're too sweet," she murmured, giving his arm a playful squeeze. They looked every bit the perfect couple, ready for a night out, and as they headed toward the door, the excitement in the air grew.

"Alright, let's get going before Trinity freaks out," Damian joked, ushering everyone out.

—

As the white Escalade eased to a stop in front of Fogo De Chão, the staccato burst of camera flashes greeted them before they could even open the doors. Jey's sharp eyes caught the swarm of media waiting just beyond the valet stand, their cameras poised like vultures. He sighed, glancing over at Damian, who was seated next to Rhea.

“Damian, take Rhea and go in first,” Jey instructed quietly, his voice low and calm despite the brewing storm of reporters. “Stay behind Jon and Trinity. We’ll keep the focus on them.”

Damian nodded without hesitation. He stepped out of the car, opening the door for Rhea, who quickly slid on her sunglasses, her face partially hidden beneath the brim of her cap. She gave Jey a brief, grateful look before stepping onto the pavement, her arm lightly brushing against Damian’s as they made their way toward the restaurant entrance. Behind them, Jon and Trinity exited the car, their frustration evident in their body language.

Trinity shot a glare toward the photographers, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I swear, they can’t leave us alone for one night,” she muttered under her breath as she adjusted her sunglasses and smoothed her jacket.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Jon said, his hand brushing hers as they walked. “Let’s just get inside.”

“The reservation’s for Fatu,” Trinity snapped, turning to the valet as she handed him the keys. Her tone was short, and her patience was clearly wearing thin.

The valet smiled politely, quickly scanning his list before offering instructions on how to retrieve the car. “Thank you, ma’am. We’ll have the car ready for you when you’re done.”

Trinity barely acknowledged him as she ushered the group toward the entrance, eager to escape the blinding flashes of light and murmured questions from the reporters. As they passed through the glass doors, the cool, quiet interior of Fogo De Chão was a walk in the park compared to the chaos outside. The familiar scent of roasting meats greeted them, the atmosphere inside serene and calm compared to the frenzy they had just left behind.

The restaurant’s manager, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a kind smile, immediately approached them, his eyes filled with concern. “Mr. and Mrs. Fatu I’m so sorry about the media. We didn’t expect this tonight.”

“It’s fine,” Jon said, though his tone suggested it wasn’t fine at all. “Just make sure we don’t have to deal with them while we’re in here.”

“Of course,” the manager assured him, nodding quickly. “I’ve already arranged for a private room in the back. I’ll have the waitress take you there right away.”

A server appeared, her smile welcoming as she gestured for them to follow her. The group made their way through the main dining area, the lively chatter of diners and the sound of clinking glasses surrounding them, though it all felt distant, like a world apart. Rhea kept her head low as they walked, her body language still tense from the encounter with the press. Damian, always protective, remained close to her side, his presence offering silent support.

They were led into a dimly lit private room at the back of the restaurant, a secluded space with large windows that overlooked a quiet garden, the soft glow of candlelight giving the room an intimate feel. It was exactly what they needed—privacy, away from prying eyes.

As everyone took their seats around the large, round table, a heavy silence settled over them. Rhea removed her sunglasses, placing them down on the table beside her phone. She glanced at Jey, who sat across from her, their eyes meeting briefly. The last few months had been an emotional rollercoaster, and though the noise outside had momentarily quieted, the weight of everything they’d been through was still there, lingering between them like unspoken words.

Trinity sighed as she settled into her chair, her fingers tapping restlessly against the edge of the table. “Can’t even go out for dinner without them showing up,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “I’m so tired of it.”

Jon placed a comforting hand on her arm, leaning in slightly. “Let’s just focus on tonight. We’re here, we’re safe, and we’ve got the best food in town coming our way.”

“Yeah,” Damian chimed in, flashing a small smile at Rhea, who sat next to him. “Let’s make the most of it. We’ve earned a little peace after everything.”

Rhea nodded slowly, but her mind was still far away, her thoughts drifting back to the whirlwind of events—Jey, the affair, the pregnancy, and the heartbreaking loss that still ached deep in her chest. She glanced down at her hands, her fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in front of her. Damian, ever the observant friend, reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. His silent reassurance grounded her, pulling her back into the present.

The server returned with menus, placing them down on the table as she took their drink orders. As the room began to settle, the tension slowly ebbed away, the dim lighting and quiet atmosphere offering them a momentary reprieve from the chaos outside.

“Let’s make a toast,” Jon said suddenly, lifting his glass of water as he waited for the others to join him. “To getting through this mess. To family, to friends… and to better days ahead.”

Everyone raised their glasses in silent agreement. Rhea managed a small smile, glancing around the table at the people who had become her anchor in the storm. For now, in this quiet room with the people who mattered most, she could try to let go of the weight pressing down on her, if only for a little while.

Rhea excused herself from the table, her stomach churning for more reasons than just the food. She could feel the weight of the pill bottle in her purse, calling to her. As everyone was almost done eating, she seized the moment, muttering something about needing to freshen up. Slipping away from the table, she glanced back to see if anyone noticed, but they were still engaged in conversation.

Jey, on the other hand, had been watching her more closely than she realized. He quickly finished his lamb chops, excusing himself in a hurry. As he stood up, Jon couldn’t resist the opportunity.

“You need a condom, Uce?” Jon teased, a smirk spreading across his face. The comment hit like a thunderclap.

Damian and Trinity erupted into laughter, their voices cutting through the low hum of the restaurant. Jey didn’t even bother to respond verbally, flipping them off instead as he made his way toward the bathroom. His heart raced, not entirely sure why, but something felt off with Rhea tonight.

He saw her slip into the family bathroom, the door barely shutting behind her. He hesitated only for a moment before following her. Quietly, he turned the handle and stepped inside, careful not to startle her. But she already seemed on edge, her hand darting out of her purse the second he entered.

Rhea froze, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes wide as she looked at him. She stood by the sink, inches away from pulling out the pill bottle she thought she so desperately needed.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, her voice shaky, the question more of a defense mechanism than anything else. Fear flickered in her eyes—she wasn't ready for this conversation.

Jey stepped closer, his eyes locking with hers. He could tell something was wrong. Something deeper than just sneaking away for a break. Jey leaned against the sink, his eyes soft but full of concern. He broke the silence gently. “Babe… I hear them.”

Rhea froze, her breath catching in her throat. She didn’t dare look up as she felt the weight of his words settle between them. “What do you mean?” she asked, feigning innocence, her fingers brushing against the edge of her purse again.

Jey’s expression didn’t change as he referenced the pills. “The bottle. I hear it every time you move.” His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge of worry underneath. “Are you in that much pain?”

Rhea forced herself to meet his gaze, and without thinking, she lied. “It’s… It’s just the pain, Jey. The cramps. They’ve been killing me. I needed something.”

Jey’s face hardened just a little, and his tone dropped. “Nah, Demi… I saw the bottle. The ‘as needed’ pills? They’re gone.” He shook his head slightly, disappointment creeping in. “You haven’t even touched the antibiotics for the infection. The Oxycodone… that’s the only thing you’ve been taking.”

Rhea winced. He never called her by her real name unless things were serious—really serious. The guilt began to gnaw at her, but she forced herself to hold his gaze.

“Joshua, it’s the cramps… they hurt me…” She lied again, the words bitter as they left her lips. She could feel the gap between them widening with each untruth.

Jey didn’t push further, but the weight of his disappointment was clear. He sighed, stepping closer to her, his fingers tracing her cheek before he leaned in and kissed her softly. It wasn’t like his usual kisses—this one was filled with a deep sadness and vulnerability. When he pulled back, he looked into her eyes, and for the first time, his walls came down.

“Demi, I love you,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you more than anything. I’d do anything for you, you know that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you from Matt, but moving forward, I want us to start fresh.” His hand found hers, squeezing it gently. “I already started the process to divorce Takecia.”

Rhea blinked, shocked by the admission. She hadn’t expected him to take that step so soon, and hearing him say it made her heart race.

“I’ll help you divorce Matt too,” Jey continued. “We can be free of all this. I wouldn’t be here, buying you a new phone or planning a life together, if I didn’t mean it. Fuck… Dem I wouldn’t be here if I thought you was a ho’. I’m all in, Demi. I love you. I want a future with you.”

Rhea’s eyes filled with tears, the sincerity in his voice cutting through every defense she had built up. He was right—he wouldn’t be doing any of this if he wasn’t serious. He was all in.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Rhea made a strong choice. She reached into her purse, pulled out the pill bottle, and handed it to Jey without saying a word. Her hand trembled as she let go, but the moment felt powerful—like reclaiming a piece of herself she was about lose.

Jey looked at the bottle, his expression softening. Without hesitation, he walked over to the trash can and dumped the pills, letting them fall away with a quiet clatter. He didn’t say anything, but the gesture spoke volumes.

When he turned back to her, his eyes were filled with a mix of love and relief. He walked back over, cupping her face in his hands. “I’m all in if you are, Demi.”

Rhea nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks as she whispered, “I’m in, Joshua. I’m all in.”

They stood there in the quiet of the bathroom, wrapped in each other’s arms, as the weight of their situation slowly lifted. For the first time, love wasn’t just something they said to each other—it was the choice they made. Together.

—

[wren-kitchens]

this is so comfortable it hurts (oh, but I guess it could be worse)

another piglin trait, it seems, is to be fiercely protective of who they consider to be in their pack. apparently, joel is part of jimmy’s pack, and it’s honestly embarrassing how happy this makes him. shut up. the issue is.. well, jimmy is a fairly touchy person. even before the whole- hybrid overhaul thing, it was fairly normal for jimmy to be nudging joel’s shoulder with his own, or pulling him into one-armed hugs. but now, jimmy seems to always be holding his hand, or resting his chin on joel’s head (no, he’s not short, jimmy is just stupidly tall), or leaning against him. and joel- it’s gonna sound stupid. in fact, it’s going to sound extremely stupid, because it is extremely stupid and joel cannot believe he even has this problem. you’re not allowed to laugh though, even though it is so dumb. joel.. really likes it.

it has been like a month?? two months?? since I started this and I can very happily say it is complete!

this is an au created by the cracker podcast, aka @angeart @loveroped and @stiffyck ! if you haven’t already go follow them they’re awesome

[girlscience]

I know everybody likes to give characters the same 10 songs on their character playlists, but I think the most egregious issue with this is that no one gives them any country songs. I am handing them out to characters like candy. You get a country song, you get a country song, you get a country song.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

babe you gotta do something abt the big wet kitten eyes. youre aiming for menacing with the words i get that but it just doesnt quite have the effect youre going for with the big wet kitten eyes

[cruelprincae]

to be frank with you, this is the most bull thing I've ever read in my entire life.

[immamapletreekid]

instead of grinding for finals i lost hours to a one piece wiki spiral

[twilightarcade]

Braceletz

[navree]

once again on my frankenstein bullshit because i’m sure it’s a very nice bookend but it is baffling that so many fix it attempts for this story are built on frankenstein asking the creature’s forgiveness in the arctic because like??? no??? the only time victor was ever in the position of “hey you should really say sorry to this guy” is after he first ran away. everything else after that should be the creature fucking groveling and saying “hey sorry i murdered your brother and then framed your friend so she’d be executed and then murdered your boyfriend and the murdered your wife which made your dad weaken and die”  because in the scales of who’s been wronged more, guy whose father was mean to him is very much trumped by guy who had everyone he loves wiped the fuck out because his son threw a temper tantrum. 

sorry.

[deathpxrception]

I swear there’s no such thing as normal people in my life IRL anymore

[yanchive]

Man, I've been obsessed with the isekai trope lately. I've been imagining a scenario where the reader gets isekai'd into a yandere romance story as a side character. You're not the main character or a love interest. You replaced a nameless character who was solely created in the story to be killed off by the yandere love interests to further the plot.

After realizing that's the role you took on, you devise a plan to re write the story to keep yourself alive.

In the official plot, your death was the cause of getting too close to the main character. Your positive relationship with them was considered a threat to the yanderes, and so they wiped you out of the picture.

So, as any semi intelligent individual would do, you decided to avoid the main character completely.

I'd like to imagine the reader wasn't well informed of this story, didn't know who the yans were, and accidentally befriended them before they even got a chance to develop any feelings for the main character. You jumped into their lives before the events that led into the original storyline. Earning their trust and unfortunately causing some peculiar emotions in them to develop.

This fucks up the whole plot. I mean, that was your plan. You just weren't trying to fuck it up so bad that you unintentionally attracted multiple yans who decided you were the perfect match for them. You were a joy to be around. You were far more intertwined in their lives than the previous main character ever was. It was generic with them and their story. A boring, "yan see's their darling from afar for the first time and falls in love on sight." Type plot.

But with you, it was so much more personal. They grew to love you for way more than just your looks. They got to know you as a person before any sort of feelings of devotion could form.

This made their efforts to claim you so much worse than they ever were in the original plot. They were much more sinister and brutal. They usually only did massive amounts of stalking, blackmail, and the occasional murder when it came to the canon story, whereas they went all out for you.

Kidnap, murder, torture, blackmail, stalking, theft, harassment, etc. Everyone around you was a threat in their eyes. Everyone around you didn't deserve you.

By the time you realized what you've done, what you've created, its far too late to fix your mistake. You attempted to break off the friendships, avoiding them at all costs, closing yourself off and spending your time trying to find a way back to your original world.

But they don't take kindly to that. Not after everything you guys have been through. Before you could find the key back home to your world, you'd be whisked away, having your new world be the confines of your yans humble abode, away from society.

Bonus option: You attempt to bring the original main character back into the plot in hopes they could redirect the yandere back into chasing them and get them off your back. But why would they need this stranger? They don't know them like they know you. And they could care less to even try to get to know them. So, the original main character ends up taking on the role you were supposed to be. The side character who was meant to die to further the plot.

You're the main character now.

[bi-writes]

who to call to clean up after an "accident" than your sick and twisted military boyfriend? :D (dark!ghost x dark!fem!reader, 18+)

cw: dark!reader, dark!simon, horror movie vibes, graphic depictions of character death/murder, unhealthy relationship dynamics, one slip of daddy, smut, unprotected piv, simon "spit in my mouth" riley, reader and simon are kinda psycho :D

you've been so nice to her. really nice. you've let it slide off your back whenever she doesn't do her dishes. you pretend you don't notice when she borrows your shoes from the hallway and wears them out to dinner. you hide yourself in your room when she has her awful, loud guests over, and you have never once said anything about how she takes her sweet time in the shared bathroom in the morning and makes you late 2 days a week for work.

but this? this?

she needs to keep simon's name out of her fucking mouth.

"excuse me?" you say finally. your roommate is shrugging on her jacket to leave, her purse in her hand as she types on her phone, using it as a way to not make eye-contact with you. her long nails are tapping against the screen, and it feels like fucking drip water torture. "what the fuck did you just say?"

she sighs, irritated, rolling her eyes as she keeps tapping away at the screen.

"you're so dramatic, it was just a fucking joke."

"you know, i let a lot of things slide," you laugh, humorlessly, and you cross your arms over your chest as you follow her into the kitchen. "but you need to be careful what you say."

"i don't do anything except call it like i see it," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking at herself in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wall. "you need to just...go out more. man like that isn't gonna stay for long if you don't give him something to go for. he's bored, you know. when you have him over here all the time. and i've totally caught him peeking at me after i shower, y'know."

"well why the fuck are you wearing nothing but a towel when my boyfriend is here, anyways?" you snap. "he's trying to be polite, he's a guest. what if i wore a fucking towel when you had your guy friends over?"

she laughs, poking at the edge of her lip to fix the gloss of her pout. "trust me, honey, no one's looking at you in a towel."

you step back, a little shocked. she rolls her eyes again, sighing.

"i didn't--"

"are you kidding me?" you retort. "you're the worst fucking roommate in the world, and i put up with all your bullshit, and now you're going to go so low as to insult the way i look just to make yourself feel better?" you make your way around the kitchen island. "you don't wash your fucking dishes, you steal my fucking clothes, you're always late on your rent so i have to spot you--"

"you know what, just because i'm fucking happy, and you're not, doesn't mean you have to take it out on me!"

"i am happy, you sorry bitch!" you cry. "i'm so fucking happy, you're the only thing in my life making me constantly miserable!"

"oh, shove it up your ass, you ungrateful little shit!" she snaps. "you're just so fucking insecure and hate me so badly just because simon would rather fuck a girl like me than have to spend another minute with--"

the crack of cast iron against her head shuts her up. it dents the side of her head easily, and her face smacks against the countertop before she crumples to the floor.

it's so fast. one minute, she's yapping, high-pitched voice straining your ears. the next, she's silent.

and she won't say simon's fucking name again.

you watch with bated breath as she folds into herself, her head hitting the hardwood last, a slow puddle of blood beginning to grow under the tendrils of her hair as your eyes move to the heavy pan you're still holding in your hands.

fuck, that's a lot of blood. god, you thought she was just full of fucking air.

you drop the pan once the rush of anger leaves your chest. it thunks onto the ground, and your hands shake as you see the specks of blood that are on the back of your hands, sprinkled over the shirt you wear. it stains your bare legs, even your toes, and you don't even want to look at the spray of it along the counters.

you should be crying, you think. you should feel bad. you're trembling a little, but you think it's just the adrenaline beginning to fade and not the guilt you know is supposed to be racking your insides.

you turn your eyes back to her. her eyes are dull. she doesn't move. it's so quiet now, utterly silent, and you take a deep breath as you take in the silence that you've craved for a long while now. you make your way quietly out of the kitchen, stepping over her body before going for your phone that sits on the coffee table in front of the couch.

you keep your eyes on her as you put your phone to your ear. it rings, and you tilt your head to the side as the blood begins to spiderweb under the kitchen table.

"'ello?"

you blink, looking towards the door. you clutch your phone a little tighter to your ear.

"simon?" you say softly. "a-are...are you busy?"

he hums lowly, chuckling, "no' at the moment, swee'eart, why?" he asks. "mmm...missed y'r voice..." you close your eyes as you hear the buckle of his belt. you try not to picture your giant of a boyfriend leaning back on his worn couch and shoving his jeans low enough to fuck his fist. "tolk t'me, luv...tell me 'ow much ya miss daddy."

you clear your throat gently, willing yourself to ignore the soft squelch of what you know is his hand around his cock, to not let it distract you from what's more important. "uhm...i liked the flowers you gave me, simon. t-they were beautiful."

the sounds on the other end of the phone quiet. you hear shuffling, and then a few moments later, the clink of his car keys.

"tha' right, baby?" he asks, and you close your eyes as you hear the front door of his flat opening. he's already on the way, already coming.

"yeah," you sniffle. "really nice sunflowers."

a yellow flower. he huffs on the other end of the phone, breathing a little easier.

"good girl," he murmurs, and then the line cuts. you set the phone down, making your way back to the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. you watch as the blood continues to curl over the floor. you make no attempt to help her; you just swing your feet under you as you look at her spoiled outfit, just grateful she isn't wearing your shoes or one of your jackets. you would hate to have to throw something out that she got all dirty.

there's a curt knock at the door ten minutes later, and then it opens. simon shuts the door behind him, cracking his neck by moving it from side to side before narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip, blinking, forgetting suddenly why he is here when he looks so fucking good. he's got a sweatshirt on under his windbreaker, worn jeans tucked into his boots; you like these jeans, his ass looks incredible in them.

"wot happened?" he asks. you stand, remembering your place. your lip starts trembling, and simon's eyes soften just a little. he's wearing his balaclava, hood up over his head and jacket zipped up, shadowing any true expression on his face. his gait sounds heavy as he lets his hands out of his pockets, coming towards you. when he steps into the kitchen, his eyes dart towards your roommate who's still on the floor, laid out unnaturally just by the oven.

he lets out a low breath, clicking his tongue under the mask. you hold your breath as you wait for his reaction.

"bloody hell," simon mutters, reaching up and throwing his hood off. you wring your hands together nervously, your eyes beginning to sting with tears. you brace for the accusations, for the inevitable terror of facing the music. simon is military, for fuck's sake, why the fuck did you think turning to him would be a good idea?

"i...i-i--" you start, looking up at him, and he holds up a hand, taking the side of your face into his palm before smoothing a gloved thumb over your bottom lip. you blink in confusion, not understanding.

"'s olright, baby," he shushes you, shaking his head. "don't cry."

"simon, i--" you sputter a little, gripping his wrist gently. "i just--i couldn't do it anymore, she just--"

he pities you. maybe you can explain. maybe if you tell him a warped story of what happened, he can help you. he must know someone. he must have important friends, he must--

he uses his free hand to move his mask up over his nose, and you lean into him when he bends, kissing you warmly. your eyes flutter shut, and you shuffle closer as he kisses you sloppy, kisses you hot. you mewl as he slips his tongue into your mouth, licking over your teeth and humming low as he pulls away. his eyes are flashing.

mmm. love.

"hmm..." simon licks his lips, smiling a little. he looks over you, almost pensive, his eyes scanning over your face before he settles back on your eyes. it's tender, the way he looks at you. romantic. "let's get this off of ya."

he reaches for the large shirt you are wearing, pulling it up and over your head. he crumples it into a ball before tossing it on top of your roommate, nodding his head behind you.

it's then that you realize simon isn't going to do the noble thing. he isn't going to call the police. he isn't going to turn you in, make you explain, he seems uninterested in knowing what really happened. no, he already knows what happened. but that's not important.

his pretty, perfect girl got into a little trouble. and he's going to make this go away.

"go on, luv. take a nice shower, yeah?" simon turns you around and pushes on your back gently. you suck in a shaky breath when he fondles your ass, pulling on your panties gently. "mmm...take these off, too."

you slip your panties down your legs, handing them to him.

"they have blood on them, too?" you ask, wiping your face, and he chuckles lowly.

"nah," he shrugs, stuffing them into his back pocket after taking a little sniff. "these are just for me."

jesus fucking christ, there's really something wrong with him. there's something really, really wrong with him.

and something wrong with me.

simon looks you up and down, his eyes catching on your naked body for just a few moments before he nods his head again.

"go on," he tells you. "before i get distracted." you pause for a moment, tilting your head back a little as he reaches out and cups one of your breasts in his big hand. you bite your lip, swallowing back a heavy breath as he flicks his thumb over your nipple gently. "greatest tits 've ever seen," he mumbles, scrunching his nose under the mask before he lets you go. "yeah, go on, baby." it takes everything in you to walk away when you see him reach down with that same hand and grip his bulge through his jeans, adjusting himself as he turns back to the mess in the kitchen.

when you shut the bathroom door behind you, you hear shuffling in the living room. the coffee table scraping. the couch being pushed. the rustle of the rug you have there. he grunts a little, and you hear his boots track from the kitchen back to the living room.

you turn the water on hot. you decide to take a bath, not looking at yourself in the mirror as you sink into the tub and plug the drain. you make the water scalding, and it soothes your sore muscles as you rest your cheek against the edge of the tub and stare at the door.

you're not sure how long you stay there. long enough for the water to nearly slosh over the edge of the tub and for simon to swing the bathroom door open, seemingly done with his...tasks.

he's taken his sweatshirt off. just a black t-shirt tucked into jeans, and there's a slight pant to his breaths that tell you he's exerted some energy. you notice he has his gloves still on, but before he touches you, he takes them off and tosses them into the sink.

"move over," simon mutters, starting to undress. you look up at him as he undoes the button on his pants, shucking his shirt off and into the corner before dropping his jeans. the water swishes as you sit up, and you swallow hard when simon kicks his boots and pants off, his cock hanging heavy as his mask is the last to hit the floor.

fuck, he's so pretty.

he has no regard for his size. he simply steps into the tub behind you, taking a seat. he looks comically large in your small bathtub, and you squeak a little as the water spills over the edge of the bath and wets the floor. he hums as he feels the hot water on his back. you don't say anything as his hands start to turn the water a little red. you just look up, away, at him.

you shuffle between his legs, tucking yourself into his space. you can't help but look him up and down, admiring his naked physique. he's just hot. big arms, thick thighs, sunburnt tattoos and scars cutting across his face. he hasn't shaved today, so there's some stubble along his jaw, but your eyes focus a little too much on his girthy length, heavy as it sits on his stomach and leaks a little there. his fat stomach, all solid and pudgy, such a nice place for you to rest your hands.

"you did good today," simon says finally. you look at him, and he tilts his head to the side. his approval makes your chest warm. "callin' me like tha'. wot a good girl you are."

keeping quiet on the phone is what he doesn't add out loud.

you purse your lips, trying not to keen at the praise, but it's hard not to when he reaches over and slides his hand over your shoulder, thumbing at your jaw.

"i-i didn't...didn't know what to do," you admit, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you didn't know what to do, so you called him. level-headed enough to not do something rash and call someone else, no, you called him.

"mmm...tha's wot i'm 'ere for, luv," simon soothes you. "made such a little mess..."

you close your eyes. it's sick. deranged. fuck, it feels nice.

why don't i feel anything?

"i know. i'm sorry."

"nothin' ta be sorry about."

you slump into his arms, resting your cheek on his solid chest. you can feel his cock pulsing against your tummy, and you adjust yourself in the water, straddling him as you rest your chin on his pecs and look up at him through watery eyes.

you aren't sad. no. not sad at all. simon has shown you what he will do for the you. the lengths he will go. what he'll forgive just to take care of you. he's so capable, so understanding.

sick. twisted. mine.

"then i'll just say thank you," you mumble, grinding your hips slowly. simon hums, a wicked smile coming over his scarred face. he licks over his bottom lip, big hands gripping you by the fat of your hips as you grip the edges of the tub for stability. "say thank you to my big, strong man for taking such good care of me..."

he chuckles, his eyes lowering, watching your tits sway as you fit your pussy over his length and grind down on him.

"tha' so, baby?"

you nod.

"mhm," you whine. "how can i thank you, my big boy? how can i show you how grateful i am for cleaning up after me, hmm?" you bend at the waist, kissing him wet and warm, and he hisses as you suck his tongue into your mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, and normally you would curse him for it, but right now it tastes so much like him, and you lick around his teeth trying to taste more of that sweet nicotine.

"fuck--such a naughty little girl..." he snickers, reaching down. you sigh when he slides his big palms over your ass, forcing you to grind slower, the tip of his cock sliding through your folds leisurely. you grip the edges of the tub tighter, pressing down to give you more leverage to grind down harder. "make such a mess, oll the time..." you gasp when he presses into you just enough, the tip breaching your entrance and forcing you to squeeze around him, your cunt trying to suck him in. "olways needin' me ta pick up afta ya..."

you giggle, sliding your hands up his chest, gripping his shoulders for leverage as you sink down onto him. he grits his teeth as you do, his eyes focused on the way his cock disappears inch by inch until you're seated down in his lap, his length kissing deep and twitching excitedly. he always feels like a teenager again whenever you fuck--like you're the first pretty girl to ever wet his cock.

you cup his cheeks finally, smoothing your thumbs under his eyes as you bring his gaze up to meet yours. you swallow hard, looking down at him.

"i-i love you, simon," you breathe. he stills underneath you, his jaw clenching as he frowns just a little. you come a little closer, nuzzling your nose against his, your thumb falling to trace the outline of his torn lip. "i should've said it a long time ago...i-i..."

"heart's beatin' out y'r chest, luv," he mutters lowly. "'s olright...'m not goin' anywhere."

it's so disgusting. you should be fucking ill. you should be scrambling to the toilet, your breakfast halfway up your throat. you should be crying, emotional, begging simon to tell the cops that it was all your fault, because it is. he should've come here and made you do the level-headed thing and confess your terrible crime.

he shouldn't be here, sitting underneath you in your tub, cock-deep inside of you after helping you commit murder and then fucking clean it all up.

"what did i do?" you gasp, sitting up. you move to get out of the tub, but simon growls, putting two firm hands on your ass and shoving you back down on his cock, making you cry. "w-what did i do? s-simon, why don't i feel bad, why am i not sorry--?!"

simon tsks, feigning comfort. he juts his bottom lip out into a pout, mocking your little cries.

"oh, luvvie, don't start cryin' now," he chuckles. "don't start pretending like y'care."

uhm...

"simon--"

"no one likes a liar."

you're still trying to pretend, and he knows this. you're still trying to act how someone normally would react. someone normal, someone who thinks rationally, would never have picked up the pan in the first place. and even if they had, they would've scrambled, cried, picked up the phone and confessed, called an ambulance as they tried to get her to start breathing again, put both hands on her chest and tried to get her wake up.

but you didn't. you watched, unnervingly calm, as she stained the hardwood with her blood. you watched as her eyes glassed over, lifeless, and you watched as her insides began to paint the floor in abstract shapes as you gave it time to spread. and not once during that time, or waiting for simon, did you think to help her.

you didn't want to help her. and you certainly didn't think she deserved to get back up. maybe she hadn't done anything quite harsh enough to deserve death in someone else's eyes. annoying, overbearing, rude.

but it's hard to feel bad when she talked about simon. when she called him by his name. when you've seen her let her towel slip when he's in her vicinity, trying to coax him into her room when you're looking away.

you should've taken one of the throwing knives that simon hides in his boot and thrown it at her then, just for that.

"we're cut from the same bloody cloth, baby," simon says, almost accusingly. you grip the edges of the tub, trying to stand again, but he cants his hips and fucks up into you, drawing a frenzied moan out of you. you reach for his shoulders as he does it again, his tongue darting out before he licks a fat stripe over your pebbled nipple. "'s olright. 's okay, luv. don't worry. don't hafta get y'r hands dirty, swee'eart, i've got it."

"but simon," you whine, but all he does is shake his head. you don't have to put on this morality act for him. you don't have to pretend that you are sorry for something that you had every right to do, you don't have to explain to him why you aren't feeling the way you should be feeling.

simon doesn't care about how you should feel. he only cares about how you actually feel.

"she was in y'r way," simon grunts. "always bein' a bloody brat." he fists your hair and brings your mouth to his, groaning as you tighten around his cock. "'ow many times did she fuck ya over, baby, hmm? 'ow many times did she steal y'r fuckin' things, come outta the loo wearin' nothin' but her fuckin' knickers, yeah? 'ow many times?"

you kiss him, frantic, digging your nails into his pecs and dragging them angrily.

yeah. fuck her. fuck what she did to me, fuck the way she behaved, fuck her stupid face and her stupid attitude and her stupid little games.

"called ya names..." he's hitting your sweet spot now, making you cry from pleasure. your pussy feels so hot, squeezing him because you know he's right, and the way he fucks this time makes you think he really knows what you are and knows exactly how to get you there. "wot a fuckin' twat. deserved every bit o' it, baby."

you meet his eyes, dark and cruel. he's still moving, still holding onto your hips and drawing out little whines, but it's different suddenly, it's more. you nod, understanding.

simon is terrible. no good. his head isn't in the right place, maybe it never has been. you wonder, briefly, if this is what he does when he's at work, if these are the things that he's used to. maybe simon has been in service too long--maybe he doesn't understand that you aren't at war here, that you can't just kill and clean up, that you aren't in the field.

"she deserved it," you whimper, and he grins, all teeth, all mean.

"tha's it."

"she was such a bitch."

"fuckin' right."

"she got what was coming for her."

"nnghhh--fuck, baby, gonna make me fuckin' cum, tolkin' like tha'," he hisses. you practically smack him as you grab onto his scarred face, gritting your teeth as you glare down at him. his lips part, and you spit in his mouth as he fucks up into you, thighs hitting your ass with a wet smack that makes your head spin.

"and i'll get rid of the next bitch that so much as looks your way, simon."

the kiss is searing. hot, blinding, white noise fills your ears as he cums with you, stuffing you full as he cums hard, a pained groan leaving him as he collapses against the porcelain tub with a harsh thud. you follow him, chasing after him, kissing him between heavy breaths as you don't make any effort to move off of him. when simon opens his eyes, he can't help but smile.

he's never seen his reflection without a mirror.

[problemswithbooks]

Oh hey are you into one piece now :D

Yeah, I'm working my way through it slowly. So far I really like the characters the most. I generally prefer more grounded world building in the stories I read, but when it comes to One Piece I find the over the top and silly stuff more fun because Oda makes it clear from the get go that's the kind of story it is so I was prepared for it going in.

Right now I'm still pretty early on--they just got Chopper (which is about where I stopped reading OP back when I was a kid ironically). I know a lot of what happens later on though because before I even watched the live action and got back into it, I watched video essays on the characters because I love video essays.

I've also been reading parts of the Fishman Island arc because my brain decided Arlong was my new favorite minor villain to love. It's been really hard to read parts of it though because sometimes the way it deals with the topic of oppression when it comes to the Fish-people/merfolk really bugs me and I have to put it down for a while.

But yeah, for now my posts will probably be about One Piece, particularly Arlong and the other fish-men because I find them neat. I still keep up with My Hero, but nothing in it lately has really got me to write about it.

[llycaons]

in a 'most pathetic character' poll jc would obviously win but su she should be up there. he tries for years to build up respect and power by using what he knows and he barely managed to be become a named clan. everyone holds him in contempt. nobody likes him but nobody really cares enough about him to truly hate or be passionate about. he told his boss to go and save himself and he promptly got abandoned to die

[deebris]

From annoying to beloved

Homelander x fem!Reader

Synopsis: The new member of the Seven annoys Captain Patria with their habit of doodling in the corners all the time, but he didn't expect to end up liking it.

During the fourth season, it can be read as both romantic and platonic.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of murder, the reader has the power to control plasma, fluffy.

The reader is also kind of anxious.

Word count: 2.9k

"You gotta be fucking kidding with me." Homelander interrupted abruptly upon hearing snores in the room. "Is Noir sleeping?"

"Mmhmm," Firecracker murmured in agreement, but the masked superhero jolted awake when The Deep kicked his chair.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, guys." Black Noir straightened up, while the Captain shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom what he had just witnessed.

"Ah, what the fuck." The blonde furrowed his brows, eyes darting around the room quickly, then fixing on a specific point when something else caught his attention. He had noticed you earlier with a notebook and pencil, but now you're not writing but drawing. The irritating sound of the graphite scraping against the paper had been bothering him for some time, but he had tried to ignore it, assuming as a newcomer you were taking notes.

He wouldn't lie. Though he found taking notes utterly stupid, he liked to think someone was that focused on what he said. Not that he needed it, just opening his lips and everyone would be watching him. But as if that weren't enough, he finally realized you were dressed in regular civilian clothes.

"Radiance, where's your suit?" He asked slowly, but angrily. "Can't anyone do anything right around here?"

You finally tore your attention from the paper, meeting Homelander gaze directly. It's not that you weren't paying attention—in fact, you were, maybe more than anyone else there. It was easier to absorb things while doodling, a way to calm your nerves. Well, that or rubbing your sweaty fingers together until they hurt.

No one ever understood. Even back in school, your parents used to receive complaints about you drawing during class, no matter how high your grades were or the fact that you were the top student.

This was your first meeting with the Seven, and the last thing you wanted was to give the impression of being careless or not caring about being there. It could be said that one of the best days of your life was yesterday when Vought sent you a notice, letting you know that the greatest superhero of all had personally chosen you to join the team. After so many "retarded" - in his words - he had been forced to accept into the Seven, Homelander saw in you, above all, the opportunity to make up for Firecracker's ridiculous weakness.

When Ashley began talking about your powers, he had no doubt the last spot was yours. It was simply brilliant. Who the hell would have imagined someone would have powers to control a state of matter? You could maneuver fire, generate electrical discharges, disrupt magnetic fields, and damn it, you could split atoms as if slicing butter.

Vought's scientists said they didn't know if it was possible, but you could destroy the damn out of a star one day. Homelander wasn't a science guy, but in one of his moments of boredom, he got curious and did some research. He didn't even know that plasma crap was all that, he thought it was a cell thing or whatever.

He always thought someone with a power as peculiar as yours, and at your age, would be arrogant or just plain dumb. But you were actually the complete opposite. You didn't speak unnecessarily, and while you seemed very aware of your own actions, you had no clue how powerful you were, or perhaps ignored that fact. The blonde thought you were an idiot for it, but he appreciated the inferiority you submitted to, especially in relation to himself.

"I don't have one, sir," you replied to his question, feeling small with everyone looking.

"What the hell?" He continued, focusing on you with incredulous voice, he couldn't believe it. How did someone end up here without even having a superhero suit?

The truth was, you had never been part of any team before, nor had you received any sponsorship during your life, or even attended Godolkin University. The only thing you had were your powers, which were indeed impressive. You never chased after any position, nor were you ever obsessed with being a famous superheroine, but lately you thought it would be a good adventure to radicalize your life. That's when you applied to join the Seven.

"How do you have a name and not have a fucking suit?" He asked, boiling with anger, fists clenching tightly behind his back.

"They gave me a name when I filled out the application," you answered honestly. That day, after they chose to call you Radiance, a random and easily commercial name, you couldn't complain much and didn't want to bother, so you left it at that.

"You'll be introduced as an official member of the Seven tomorrow, how do you not have a suit?" He took his hands off his back, moving them as he spoke to express his confusion, and for a few moments you followed it movement like a child who can't keep their attention on anything for long. "Who's handling your marketing?"

You couldn't answer, so you stayed silent and no one else dared to say a word either. You had no idea who was handling your marketing, not knowing you should even have that. You glanced quickly around the table, perhaps seeking some kind of help for the situation, but everyone looked down when they realized you were staring at them. They were enjoying themselves, and that made you exhale through your nose in embarrassment.

"You know what? Fuck it, doesn't matter." Homelander brought his fingers to his furrowed forehead, letting out a loud sigh as he calmed down. "Just... don't show up like this in public until someone gives you a suit."

"Yes, sir," you replied tensely, relieved that he had resolved the matter.

Sister Sage widened her eyes in relief when she finally saw the superhero sitting beside her. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, as she had intended from the beginning, but when some sound was about to come out of her mouth, Homelander spoke to you again, this time pointing an accusatory finger at you:

"And stop drawing, damn it," he ordered, causing you to slowly drop the pencil on the table, as if caught doing something wrong with the weapon of the crime in hand. You stared at your lap throughout the entire meeting, embarrassed for messing everything up on your first day.

When the meeting ended, you followed most people out of the room, but stopped nearby in one of the hallways. You slid down the wall, crouching in a hidden corner, and lightly tapped the sketchbook against your forehead in annoyance.

"Stupid," you murmured softly to yourself. It was so ridiculous, yet it embarrassed you so much. Maybe this first day wasn't so bad after all. You would have plenty of time to prove your worth to everyone, no need to dwell on this situation. Even though you had been corrected in front of some of the most iconic supers by Homelander himself, this situation could be overcome. It was thinking about it that kept you from letting the burning tears fall.

"I can hear you whining," Homelander voice made you jump to your feet, startled to be caught once again doing something you shouldn't. He didn't seem happy, and his expression was so intimidating that you felt like Mariah Carey performing for a crowd of Eminem fans.

He approached you in slow steps and you held the sketchtebook protectively to your chest, as if that could protect you from something. He glanced down to briefly see the object in your hands and looked at you with disgust.

"If you don't straighten up, I'll kick you out. Got it?" Everything about him exuded threat. Maybe if he weren't so imposing and powerful, that sentence would have sounded a bit like the janitor from your old school scolding you for spending too much time in the bathroom during class.

You were paralyzed standing there and all you could do was a nod. But your gesture made him more aggressive.

"Answer with your mouth. Are you mute or something?" And there he was, hands behind his back again. He seemed to enjoy that pose.

"I won't mess up, sir," you said, swallowing your saliva.

"And get rid of that. Or burn it, do whatever, just get rid of it. And I better not see you with that again," he said referring to your notebook, walking away faster than before. "These kids..." you heard him mutter distantly.

After that happened, you didn't destroy the sketchtebook, but you were afraid of being caught and kept it safely tucked away in the back of a drawer in your room. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right? You mentally made a promise to yourself not to use it anywhere else but here, to avoid causing more trouble.

It's been a week since you've been with the Seven, and several strange things have happened. You quickly realized that Homelander wasn't the pristine and merciful hero everyone believed him to be. But the truth was that deep down you already expected that. Everything about heroes always seemed too perfect and pure, there had to be a catch. Despite everything, you still remained yourself, never intentionally hurting anyone or getting involved in murders and conspiracies.

You were comfortable helping out with some minor crimes that Vought sent you to solve, but by now you suspected that sooner or later Homelander would ask you to do some of his atrocities. It was still hard to think about how to feel about it, but you weren't naive, you were already mentally preparing to submit to it or else be killed.

During that time, as you adjusted and interacted with the team, it didn't go unnoticed by Homelander that you were drawing on your own hand, or on napkins and on random sheets you found lying around, even though you hadn't shown up with your sketchtebook again. This was starting to wear on his last nerve, but he tried to ignore it. As long stayed as you were, without asking too many questions and obedient, he made an effort to continue overlooking your makeshift drawings.

"Meeting's over," the blond suddenly declared, interrupting another of the Seven's weekly gatherings while cutting off The Deep's rambling about his ideas.

"But I haven't even talked about the flying shark yet," he tried to defend himself.

"Shut up," Homelander's voice rang out sternly in the room, issuing a warning that the man promptly obeyed.

"Right. Meeting's over." Ashley nervously moved to gather the portfolios on the new soda advertisement she had come to present, but as soon as she touched the first folder, specifically the A-Train one, the superhero exploded in rage:

"Ashley! Get out!" She immediately dropped the folder in place and hurried out in her heels, unable to run in them. "All of you! Get out of here."

Everyone got up from their chairs, even you, and filed out through the front door, leaving the folders on the table. Sister Sage hesitated, thinking she might be an exception, but when his scowl deepened, she understood she should leave too.

With the room empty, Captain Patria took a few minutes to admire the view from the tower. He enjoyed staring at it sometimes, even when bored.

"Bunch of idiots," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in denial, indignant. If he had to spend one more minute with these morons, he would have a heart attack, even though that was technically impossible for him.

He threw his cape back as he turned to leave, looking down and not focusing on anything in particular. But his eyes caught something different from the other folders. It was obviously yours, with a huge drawing covering the text and images printed on it.

That was the first time he actually saw something you had scribbled. And damn, it was perfect. It was a drawing of everyone in the room, with him in the center looking angry. Just as he was. His ego flared up as he noticed that his figure was more detailed than the others'. You must have started drawing him first, hence had more time to detail him. The idea of you making him the main focus of this particular drawing made his pupils dilate. He used his super hearing to check if anyone else was around and secretly took that sheet for himself.

The next time he saw you drawing in the Seven's room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were drawing him again. As soon as he noticed you sneakily reaching for a pen that belonged to Ashley, he looked in your direction. The noise that used to annoy him now sparked curiosity. And after staring at you for so long, it didn't take long for you to look back at him too. The blond thought you would be embarrassed, like most people, but you just grinned as if you were used to being caught looking. And indeed, you were.

You began drawing Homelander more frequently when you realized he never caught you watching him. It was easier and avoided awkward situations with other people. After two whole weeks of drawing him continuously while taking advantage of this freedom, you felt capable of drawing his face without even needing to see a photo, having memorized most of his distinctive features.

Well, it seems he's finally noticed you.

Sometimes, when alone in your room, you took out your sketchbook and started practicing the memory of his facial features you had developed. Just like every other time, you became absorbed in the drawing, focusing only on the voices around you to understand what was being said. This was also a way to keep yourself engaged during conversations, so you wouldn't get restless from being still while being a mere spectator of everything. After all, you never participated much or gave opinions; Deep already did enough for two.

The meeting had already ended, but you stayed in your chair, even as everyone else left, to finish just a part of the hair. You thought no one would mind, and then you would leave as usual, but a voice caught you by surprise:

"Can I take a look?" Homelander asked, for the first time, using a gentle voice beside you. His expression was enigmatic, somewhat relaxed, and shy at the same time.

You turned the stack of post-it notes, also taken from Ashley, for him to see what you had drawn, fearing what he would say. You weren't ashamed of drawing people, much less of them catching you doing it. You feared because he found your habit annoying.

He observed the drawing, seeing his posture from the side, upright and imposing. He wondered if you drew him exactly as you saw him, or if it was just another caricature of reality, like those Photoshopped pictures spread around. He looked much better than he imagined, though he had that superiority complex that made him see himself as a god.

For a moment, he was offended to see his image stamped on such despicable things as scraps of paper and these damn post-it notes. Your fingerprints were also visible stains, and the paper was slightly wrinkled from his sweat. He had noticed that sometimes you drew calmly, as if you had all the time in the world, and other times it was like drawing on a boat in a storm. Today seemed to be the latter situation.

"Do you like drawing me?" He glanced at you.

"I do," you shrugged. That was the simplest and most truthful answer you could give. "Sorry, I won't do it anymore," you said, thinking he was bothered by it.

"Why?" He ignored your apology.

"You're drawable... I guess," you stared at the table, not understanding the flow of the conversation.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" He asked in a louder voice, turning to face you, obviously confused. "Is this some artistic shit?"

"It's just that you're easy to draw because you have unusual characteristics. It's a good thing," was your answer, and it inflated his chest with narcissistic pride. Unusual, that's what you said, but to him, it was like being called extraordinary.

"Next time you draw me, try using a sketchbook," he said sternly, pretending to reject your work, but deep down, he just didn't want to show that he really liked it. That statement was his way of encouraging you to continue, but at the same time, it was so ironic, considering he got mad at you just when you were drawing him in the sketchtebook that day.

"But you asked me to get rid of mine," you said simply, your voice dwindling with each word of the sentence, not wanting him to find out that you had never thrown it away.

"I'll get you a new one," he said dismissively, taking the entire stack of post-it notes with him, including the drawing, as if you wouldn't notice.