request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made"
pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader
warnings: angst.
Rafe Cameron holds grudges better than anyone and his ex was about to witness exactly that.
Jessica Green liked to think of herself as the queen of their university, the epitome of beauty and popularity. Some real high school bullshit he only fed because he really liked her.
Then, she went and dumped him for none other than Tyler West, the star player of his rival basketball team. Technically, she cheated on him, sneaking around with that piece of shit behind his back.
The humiliation was killing him.
Rafe wasn't one to take such things lying down; he wanted revenge, and he needed it badly. He wanted to ruin her life. It wasn’t enough to ruin her reputation, he wanted to hit her where it hurt the most.
What would hurt more than being replaced? Not by any girl, but by someone who was everything she wasn’t. It was a genius idea at the time, really. He wanted to prove her that some loser could easily take her place, with a little help from him, of course.
That's when you came into the picture.
Kelce pointed you out actually, when they were six beers in and too fucking drunk to think clearly. But it was still a solid choice.
You were the complete opposite of his ex, blending into the crowds like a superpower. He watched you for an entire hour at the party, no uttering a single word the entire time you were there, only nursing your drink and listening to the other girls on the cheerleading squad speak.
Shit, he didn’t know you were a cheerleader until that night.
Were you always there? How had he never noticed you before? It was hard to remember when all he focused on up until then was Jessica.
You were practically invisible in comparison to her, always on the sidelines, blending into the background.
You were perfect for his plan.
If he could take this overlooked, nerdy girl and turn her into the new it girl (whatever the fuck that meant) of campus, it would be the ultimate blow to Jessica's ego, proving that she wasn’t as irreplaceable as she thought.
“You really gonna do it?”
He didn’t take his eyes off you, “Oh yeah. I'm doing it.”
“Nahh, there’s no way you’re pulling this off.”
Rafe leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin at the corner of his mouth.
His friend's skepticism was exactly what he expected, it made the challenge even sweeter.
“You think so?” he mused. “Watch me.”
Kelce, always the instigator, “No way, Cameron. Turnin' that quiet little thing into the next Jessica? She’s cute, I guess, in that nerdy way, but she’s not hot girl, material.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “She’s got potential,” he said confidently. “Just needs someone to show her how to use it.”
Topper laughed, shaking his head. “You’re insane. This isn’t a bad rom-com movie where the shy girl takes off her glasses and suddenly she’s hot.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rafe pointed out, “It’s all about confidence man. Jessica wasn’t born the way she is now, trust me, I can do the same with her.”
A silly school project, he thought to himself. That’s all you were.
Kelce took a swig of his drink, enjoying where the conversation was going.
“Alrigh', I’ll bite. How much time are we talking here? She’s got a looooong way to go."
Rafe tilted his head, considering. “Give me two months."
Topper snorted, setting his drink down with a thunk. “Two months? No way. I say, a grand says you can’t pull it off.”
Kelce laughed, rubbing his hands together.
“Oh, this is gonna be good. I’m in. A grand."
The two idiots were already shaking hands over it, acting like it was a twisted fantasy football bet.
“Y’all are gonna feel real fucking stupid when she’s walking into parties on my arm and every guy on campus is trying to figure out where the hell she came from.”
“And what’s the plan, exactly? Gonna Cinderella her ass into popularity?”
Rafe cocked an eyebrow, swirling the last bit of his beer in his red cup.
“Something like that,” he drawled. “Little wardrobe upgrade. Introduce her to the right people. Coach her on how to not sound like she’s afraid of her own voice.”
Kelce laughed, too loud. “Jesus. You’re gonna Pygmalion her.”
Rafe was going to make you untouchable, he’d improve every dull corner of you until you gleamed under the lights she used to think were reserved for her. And when Jessica saw you on his arm, in her place, with every pair of eyes following you instead of her, that’s when the knife would twist..
He finished his drink and slamming the glass down on the table.
“I’m upgrading.”
Topper whistled low. “You’re a sick fuck, man.”
Rafe smiled, tongue in his cheek. “Takes one to know one.”
Kelce raised his glass. “To Rafe and his miracle project. This is gonna be fun to watch.”
Topper shook his head again as he clinked his glass against Kelce’s. “Here’s to you wasting a month of your life on a lost cause.”
“You better start saving up.”
This plan was flawless.
It was so good that even in his drunken stupor, he could see how perfectly it would play out. The first step was simple: get close to you. Make you feel special, noticed. Rafe knew how to charm people; it was practically second nature. With Jessica, it had been easy; she’d fallen for his looks, his confidence, his rich boy appeal.
The next day, he started showing up at places he knew you’d be. The library, the campus coffee shop, even lingering around after cheerleading practice.
At first, he didn’t approach you, only observed. He had to figure out how to make you see him without scaring you off. That's why it took an entire week before he made his first move.
You were sitting alone in the library, surrounded by textbooks and notes. He casually strolled up, pretending to be looking for a book on the same shelf.
“Hey,” he said, glancing down at you with a disarming smile. “You’re in my econ class, right? Mind if I sit here?”
You looked up startled, but nodded, moving your books to make room for him. You probably couldn’t believe that someone like Rafe Cameron was talking to you, let alone sitting with you. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? Get you out of your shell and into his orbit.
He was acutely aware that one wrong move could cost him, it could send you running. You kept your eyes down, focused on your notes. Your hand wavered as you turned the page, and Rafe leaned in, not intruding, but making sure you knew he was there.
“You always this buried in work?” he asked casually, pulling out a notebook and flipping it open.
You glanced up, surprised he was still there.
“I have a lot to catch up on.”
He chuckled. “I hear you. Econ’s been kicking my ass this semester. You doing okay in it?”
He could tell you were caught off guard. You didn't think he knew you shared the same class. He didn't, until last week when he began doing his research.
You hesitated. “Yeah, it’s… fine. Just a lot of material.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around these supply and demand curves for days. You think the professor’s trying to torture us?”
You smiled faintly, a small victory in his book.
“It’s kind of her thing.”
Rafe grinned, pleased that he got a reaction out of you.
“You mind if I study with you? Might help to bounce some ideas off each other.”
You blinked, taken aback by his request. “Um, sure. I mean, if you want.”
“Definitely,” he replied smoothly. “You seem like you know what’s going on, unlike me.”
He spent the next hour working alongside you, occasionally asking questions, but mostly being there. He didn’t push or try too hard.
He needed you to feel comfortable around him, to see him as someone you could rely on.
“I’m sorry about Jessica.”
You blurted it out, and he knew instantly it hadn’t been meant for him to hear.
Rafe froze, his grip tightening on the pen. He felt the familiar anger bubbling up, but he kept it down, his expression void of any resentment. This was what he didn’t want, Jessica’s name, spoken by you.
But he couldn’t let you see that.
He looked at you, feigning surprise with a bit of sadness, as if Jessica was a painful memory he was trying to move past.
“You know about that?”
You nodded, eyes wide and apologetic, regretting bringing it up.
“Yeah…It’s all over campus, right? The girls were talking about it in the locker room. I—I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”
Rafe forced a smile, faking gratitude for your concern. He sighed, putting on a relived act.
“It’s okay,” he lied. “I guess it’s one of those things, y’know? We were together for a while, and it sucked when it ended.”
You looked down at your notes, fidgeting with the corner of a page.
“She shouldn’t have done that to you.”
He let out a dry laugh, the bitterness threatening to seep through, but he disguised it as a rueful chuckle.
“Yeah, people do shitty things sometimes. Guess it wasn’t meant to be.”
Your body instantly relaxed, relieved that he wasn’t angry. Rafe needed to pull the conversation away from his ex, and back to you, where it should be.
“But hey,” he added, as if genuinely trying to shake off the bad memories, “Everything happens for a reason right?"
You bit your lip at the sudden attention. “Right."
He leaned forward, “You’re not like everyone else around here. You’re real, y’know? Genuine. I like that.”
Bullshit. But he could see the effect his words had on you.
Your cheeks flushed as you looked away, a shy smile on your lips. “I’m just…here.”
Rafe shook his head, taking on a more sincere tone. “I’m glad I’m getting the chance to see that.”
He held your gaze, letting the silence settle to make the moment feel meaningful, even though he knew exactly what he was doing. He was reeling you in, one calculated move at a time.
Finally, you nodded, lips twitching, “Thanks, Rafe."
Oh, you were too perfect for this.
He grinned, as if the conversation had lightened his mood.
“Anytime."
It was a perfect first interaction. It made you feel like he was letting you in on something personal and from the look on your face, it worked. Except, inside, Rafe was fuming. Jessica had managed to worm her way into his head again, indirectly, a reminder of why he was doing this shit in the first place.
It was important to steer the conversation back to safer waters.
“You think you can help me with this econ stuff? I’m pretty sure I’m doomed without you.”
You laughed, the tension from earlier completely dissipating.
“I think I can manage that.”
You both turned your attention back to your notes. Rafe felt a sense of satisfaction. He was winning that bet on way or another.
Over the next few weeks, he made sure to stick to his plan.
Slowly but surely, he slipped his way into your life, always around, ready with a casual compliment or a small gesture that made you feel special. He’d walk you to class, carry your books, and offer to study with you whenever he had the chance. He knew how to play the long game, and you were warming up to him more and more. He made sure to steer clear of anything that might remind you of Jessica or his past. Instead, he focused on building up your confidence, subtly encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone.
He’d invite you to parties, introducing you to his friends, and before long, you were starting to come out of your shell. You even started to dress a little differently, nothing too drastic, but enough to catch people’s attention.
The change was gradual, but it was happening.
The first party he invited you to was at a swanky off-campus house, you’d only ever heard about but never had the nerve to attend. He had that effect on you, made you start to believe you could belong in a world that had always seemed so out of reach.
“C'mon, it’ll be fun."
You hesitated, feeling out of place just imagining yourself surrounded by strangers.
“I don’t know… I’m not really into parties,” you admitted.
Rafe grinned, a playful shine in his eyes.
“I promise I won’t let anything bad happen. Just give it a try, for me?”
He seemed so earnest that you found yourself nodding without a fight.
“Okay. I guess I could give it a shot.”
It was initially awkward, loud music, people you didn’t know, and a social scene that was worlds away from where you belonged.
Rafe stayed close.
You clung closer to him, which he noticed and shot you a reassuring smile, his hand resting on the small of your back as he guided. He was different tonight, more assertive.
“Relax,” he whispered in your ear, breath warm against your skin. “You’re with me. Have some fun, sweets.”
You nodded, trying to loosen up, but the eyes on you—on both of you—were hard to avoid. People were noticing. Whispering.
It was exactly what he'd hoped for.
He led you to where Kelce and Topper were already posted up, drinks in hand. The second they saw you, their eyebrows shot up, but they quickly masked their surprise with easy smiles.
Rafe greeted them, his hand never leaving your body.
“Guys, this is her,” Rafe said, his tone casual. “Told you I’d get her to come out with us.”
Kelce looked you up and down, smirk growing.
"Cameron. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
Topper raised his drink in your direction, “Nice to meet you. Rafe’s been talking you up.”
You managed a small chuckle, not a fan of extra attention on you. “Nice to meet you too.”
Rafe gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you grab a drink? I’ll be right here.”
You nodded, grateful for the brief escape, and headed towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen.
As soon as you were out of earshot, the easygoing demeanor Rafe had been maintaining with you slipped away as he turned back to his friends.
“So?” Kelce asked, “How’s the project going?”
Rafe shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.
“Better than expected. She’s starting to come out of her shell. Still got a long way to go, but I’d say we’re on track.”
Topper's eyes followed you as you picked out a drink. “She seems… nice. You sure you want to go through with this, man?”
Rafe shot him a look, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Topper shrugged. “She might be too sweet for what you’ve got planned.”
Kelce chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s sweet, alright. That's the whole point, isn’t it? She’s not Jessica."
Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk. “Exactly. She’s perfect for this.”
He said it with confidence, but there was something else in his eyes—he shoved it down and buried it as he watched you make your way back with a drink in hand.
You came back, walkin’ over all pretty and yeah—fuck. Couldn’t help it. His relaxed on its own, his brain forgetting he was supposed to be playing it charming.
“Got somethin’ good?” He asked, nodding at your drink, knowing damn well he gawked at your glossy lips the whole walk back.
You giggled, holding up your cup.
“It's punch. Thought I’d start slow.”
Rafe snorted, nodding approvingly.
“Smart move. Don’t let these guys talk you into anything crazy.”
He meant to say his piece and move on, but then you smiled again, and that giggle stuck around in his head longer than it should’ve. You were bright-eyed and sweet, not trying hard at all, not even knowin’ how pretty you sounded when you laughed like that.
The night went on like that. Rafe played the part well, always right there with you. Hand on your shoulder when the crowd got thick, fingers brushing yours when he leaned in to tell you who was who. He introduced you to people, acting like he’d been doing this with you forever.
Every time you stepped away, whether it was for another drink or to fix your lip gloss, he’d glance over at his boys. A fleeting look, keeping score.
You didn’t catch that, though.
All you saw was him. This guy who stuck by your side all night, who made you feel like you belonged. Between the drinks and the way his hand kept finding yours, you started to let your guard down. You laughed more. Talked more. Stopped second-guessing every word that came out of your mouth.
That was the whole point. He’d spent weeks laying the groundwork; tonight was just the beginning.
He was getting what he wanted.
Or, at least, he thought he was.
You were laughing at something Kelce said, head tilted back, unfiltered, and something in him pulled up short. It wasn’t big or dramatic, a simple thought about the way you looked right then.
He didn’t dwell on it, knowing better.
Especially with his ex still lurking.
Sure enough, Jessica cornered him before class the next day.
“Rafe, can we talk?”
He didn’t look at her, instead shoving his notebook into his bag as if she wasn’t even worth the effort.
"What's up?"
Jessica glanced around, making sure no one was listening, before stepping closer to him.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
He tilted his head, barely reacting. “What do you mean?”
She huffed in frustration, not in the mood for his mind games.
“Don’t act like you don’t know. She’s a nice girl, I know she’s not your type.”
Rafe couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Jealous?
“You’re just going to use her to get back at me? That’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve that.”
Rafe hummed. “You didn’t think about fairness when you were sneaking around fucking Tyler, did you? Why should I care about what she deserves?”
"Rafe."
"You only care about your precious reputation, so shut the fuck up."
Jessica flinched, “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”
“Do you even realize what you did to me?” The memory of the last time he’d trusted her flashed before his eyes. “You don’t get to apologize now, or tell me what’s fair.”
Jessica’s expression softened.
“I’m not saying this for me. I’m saying it for her."
Rafe snorted, "Right, because you care so much about other people, huh?"
"You're being difficult for no reason."
He clenched his jaw, wanting to lash out, tell her that she didn’t get to play the moral high ground after everything she’d done.
“Stay out of it, Jess” he gritted out, “And keep your fucking mouth shut.”
She sighed, her shoulders slumping as if she’d been expecting this. “Think about it before you do something stupid."
Without another word, Jessica turned and walked away, leaving Rafe standing there, seething with anger. He watched her go, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
Of course, she would act like she gave a shit about you the moment he’s attention dropped from her.
You were just a means to an end, even though you made it so fucking hard for him to keep his head in the game half the time.
When you smiled at him or thanked him for something small, it nailed the hatred he had built up inside. It was part of the plan; getting close to you was necessary for the outcome he wanted. The more alone time he spent with you, the more he realized that he was enjoying himself.
That was bad.
He didn't have to put in the effort to influence you. You began to speak up in class and crack jokes with the other girls on the cheerleading squad. The transformation was happening right before his eyes, like he’d planned.
Funnily enough, instead of feeling satisfied, there guilt forming in his stomach. You were changing, you were starting to trust him, to look at him like he was more than some popular dude who was doing you a favor. You were beginning to care, and that terrified him.
Why did it terrify him? That's what he wished for.
One night, after another party where you had danced closer, Rafe walked you back to your dorm. The campus was quiet, the stars above bright against the inky sky. You were buzzing with the energy of the night, talking animatedly about how much fun you’d had.
The sound of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up—
“Thanks for inviting me, Rafe. I never thought I’d enjoy these things, but you make it…easier, I guess.”
Rafe smiled down at you, ignoring the way his heart twisted at your words.
“I’m glad sweets. You deserve to have fun.”
You looked up at him, “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly. For everything. You didn’t have to be this nice to me.”
That's when he saw you, not as a means to an end, but someone he grew to genuinely care about.
Shit.
“It’s no big deal. Really.”
It was, and you both knew it.
You had gone from barely existing on the social radar to being someone everyone wanted to be around. It was all you. Rafe had given you that, but your personality made people like you the moment they met you.
He walked you to your door, his usual confidence gone as you turned to face him. There was something different about you tonight.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” you began hesitantly.
He forced himself to stay calm, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “Yeah? What’s up?”
You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your top before meeting his eyes again. “Why did you start talking to me? Was it because you felt s-sorry for me? Or… or something else?”
Rafe’s mind raced, trying to find the words that wouldn’t hurt you. He needed to lie, like he’d been doing all along.
You continued, “I’m glad you did. Whatever the reason was. I’ve never felt this… this good about myself. And it’s because of you.”
Rafe swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.
Fuck.
He’d thought he could control this, control you, but it was slipping through his fingers. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.
“You’ve always been amazing,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I just… I helped you see it.”
You grinned up at him, eyes glossing with gratitude. You were looking at him like he was someone worth caring about, and for the first time since he started this game, he felt like he was the one being played.
If pulled away now, for your sake, after all the nights walking you home, learning how you liked your coffee and the exact songs that made you smile, it would only raise questions he didn’t have answers for.
Instead, he kissed you.
You didn’t pull away, kissing him back without hesitation. His hand moved to the back of your neck, not pulling. You made a soft sound in the back of your throat, barely audible, but it hit him all the same.
He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he pulled back when it flooded his insides. The look in your eyes nearly undid him. There was so much trust, and it made him want to break something, anything, to stop feeling the way he did.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice rough, the kiss taking something out of him.
You nodded, still dazed. “Yeah, tomorrow.”
This was wrong.
He knew it was wrong. But the way you were looking at him...he couldn’t bring himself to care.
He watched you go inside, waiting until you disappeared into your dorm before he let out a shaky breath.
What the fuck was he doing? He was so close to winning and yet, he couldn’t help but feel that he was the one who was losing.
Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Jessica’s words mocked him.
“I’m sorry okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”
He had scoffed at her then, dismissed her excuses as pathetic attempts to justify her shitty behavior.
Now, lying there alone, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was any different. He didn’t plan on feeling anything real for you. This was supposed to be a game, a way to hurt Jessica the way she hurt him.
Somewhere along the line, things had changed.
How could he let this happen? How could he, of all people, start to care? He was supposed to be in control, supposed to be the one pulling the strings, not getting tangled in them.
The memory of your pretty face, the sound of your laugh, the warmth in your eyes—these were the things that lingered in his mind, all the fucking damn time.
“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.
The anger and bitterness that had fueled him for weeks were still there, but they were being drowned out by you.
Rafe’s resolve had been torn for days, but he pushed the guilt aside as he drove to campus the next morning. He was picking you up before class, something that had become a routine. It was a small gesture, but one that made you smile every time, and Rafe had to admit, he looked forward to seeing it.
When he pulled up to your dorm, you were already outside, your bag slung over your shoulder. You looked different from when he first met you—still shy, but with a confidence that hadn’t been there before.
It was subtle, but Rafe noticed. He noticed everything about you these days.
“Hey,” you greeted as you slid into the passenger seat, giving him a grin that always made his brain turn mushy. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“Anytime,” he replied smoothly, shifting the car into gear. “Ready for another day of fun and learning?”
You rolled your eyes playfully, a lightness in your expression that hadn’t been there a month ago.
“If by fun, you mean trying not to fall asleep in econ, then yeah, totally ready.”
He chuckled, glancing over as he pulled onto the road. “I’m starting to think you secretly enjoy econ. You’re just trying to maintain your cool, indifferent persona.”
You laughed, the sound genuine and free, and Rafe felt that unfamiliar squeeze in his chest again.
“Yeah, that’s me. The cool, indifferent econ nerd.”
“See? I knew it."
The drive to campus was easy. When you arrived, he parked in his usual spot, but instead of getting out right away, you turned to him, your expression suddenly serious.
“Rafe, can I ask you something?”
Had you figured it out? Did you know about the bet? He quickly forced a nod.
“Sure sweets, what’s up?”
You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip, a habit he’d noticed you had when you were nervous.
“Why did you kiss me?”
This was the moment he’d been dreading, when you’d start questioning everything. He couldn’t afford to slip up now.
“Why not? I like you. I like being around you.”
You looked at him, your eyes searching his, trying to find the truth in his words. Rafe held your gaze, doing his best to keep his expression open and honest.
You nodded, as if you’d decided to believe him.
“Okay,” you said. “I...I didn’t want to assume, y’know? It’s just...new.”
“Good new, though, right?”
“Yeah,” you admitted, “Good new.”
You were starting to get closer, to trust him, and every time you did, the guilt fucked with his head a little more.
Later that day, when the two of you met up for a late lunch, he noticed the way you had begun to attract attention from others.
Guys glanced your way, noticing the changes in you, and a few girls even stopped to chat, a far cry from the shy girl he’d first approached in the library.
You two sat down at a table outside the campus cafe, your eyes lit up when you spotted someone approaching. It was Leila, a girl from your cheer squad. She waved and came over, sitting down.
“Hey, you two,” she greeted, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe. “Mind if I join?”
“Sure,” you said, scooting over to make room for her.
He nodded, keeping his expression neutral, but there was something about the way Leila looked at you that irked him.
She complimented you on something you’d done at practice the other day, you blushed at the praise. He could see how much you were changing, starting to come into your own.
It was becoming harder and harder to justify what he was doing.
“She’s nice. I didn’t think she even noticed me before.”
“She notices you now."
You looked at him, your giddy expression fading.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing. Just thinking."
“About what?”
“About how you’re starting to steal everyone’s attention here. What am I gonna do when you’re the most popular one around here?”
You giggled, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.”
You were starting to trust him, to believe in the friendship he was offering, and it was killing him. He needed to talk to someone about it, someone who knew the score.
After dropping you off at your dorm by the end of the day, he called Kelce. The phone rang a few times before his friend picked up, sounding slightly out of breath.
“What’s up?”
Rafe took a deep breath, leaning against the side of his car.
“I need to talk, man. About the bet.”
Kelce laughed, not picking up on the seriousness in Rafe’s voice.
“What, you already feeling bad for her? Didn’t think you’d go soft so fast.”
Rafe frowned, running a hand through his hair.
“I didn’t think it’d be like this. She’s... she’s actually really nice, Kelce. Genuinely nice.”
“Dude, we all knew she was nice. That’s what makes this so good, remember why you’re doing it.”
Rafe sighed in frustration. “I know, but... She trusts me."
And I trust her, he wanted to add.
“Dude, you're in too deep to back out now. Keep your eye on the prize, okay?"
He nodded, even though Kelce couldn’t see him.
“Yeah... yeah, you’re right. I needed to clear my head.”
“Good,” Kelce gloated. “Now go get some sleep or something. We’ve got a party this weekend, and I wanna see you back on your game.”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks, man.”
By Friday, the campus was buzzing with weekend plans, and you were in a good mood, chatting excitedly about some party that night. You two were in the cafeteria, grabbing lunch, when it happened.
You were waiting in line for food, and Rafe had stepped aside to check his phone. When he glanced up, he saw a guy approaching you—a guy he recognized from the football team. A sleazy bastard.
The guy flashed you a charming smirk, trying to flirt. Rafe never wanted to pummel a guy's face to the wall so fucking bad.
He watched from a distance as the guy made you laugh, his hand resting on the counter next to yours. Too fucking close.
It made ugly rise in him. His grip tightened around his phone as he watched. You seemed flattered but a little uncomfortable, your smile not reaching your eyes. You weren’t used to this kind of attention, and it made him feel something primal.
He wanted to go over there, tell that guy to back the fuck off, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, seething, because scaring you with violence was the last thing he wanted to do.
When the guy finally walked away, only after begging for your number, you looked relieved, and Rafe was already moving.
He crossed the cafeteria in quick strides, heart pounding in every single corner of his body. You spotted him coming, waving but dropping your arm when you saw the sour look on his face.
“Rafe, what’s—”
His hand cupped your face as he all but yanked you toward him and recklessly kissed you, again.
It wasn’t like the kiss outside your dorm. He needed to prove something to himself, to you, and to everyone watching.
You were caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but then you melted into him, his tongue sliding against yours, publicly claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His fingers tangled in your hair, and you let out a contented sigh that only made him kiss you harder.
People around you were definitely watching now, whispering, some even cheering. He didn’t pull away until he was breathless, and even then, he stayed close, his forehead against yours, breathing heavy.
When he opened his eyes, he saw the way you were looking at him, dazed, pretty lips swollen from the intensity he had poured into you.
“What... what was that?” your voice shaky, searching his face for answers.
Rafe knew he should've explained himself, but all he wanted was to kiss you stupid. He shook his head, lips tilting at how adorable you looked.
“Couldn’t help myself."
You blinked up at him, trying to process what had just happened, there was no mistaking the way your body was responding to him.
He stepped back, keeping his hand on your waist as he looked around. Sure enough, the guy from earlier was watching. Rafe caught his eye, giving him a look that said everything without words.
He knew he’d crossed a line, again, but in that moment, all he cared about was the way you felt in his arms and how you looked up at him like he was the only guy in the world.
“C’mon,” Rafe murmured. “We’ve got class.”
You stupidly nodded and let him guide you out of the cafeteria.
As you approached the building where your next class was, he stopped, turning to face you. He touched your cheek again, thumb brushing against your skin, and you leaned into his touch.
“Rafe—”
“You’re my girl,” he whispered, “Okay?”
Your breath hitched as you looked up at him.
Rafe stole one more kiss, tender this time, and he realized he didn’t care about Jessica's feelings anymore.
“Rafe…” you muttered against his lips. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to understand about what you were, what you two were becoming.
His traced the curve of your jawline.
“I need you to know that you mean something to me. This, us—"
“Okay.”
Just like that, he got what he wanted.
The next day, everything seemed to fall into place as if the universe has finally aligned for you. He asked you out, you were together.
The next two months were a dream, utter bliss. You weren’t happy; you were radiant.
Every smile he gave you, every touch or whispered confession of how perfect you were, sent you soaring higher. He couldn’t get enough of you, your sweetness, your kindness, your genuine heart. He was falling more and more in love with you every single day.
At the same time, in a place he didn’t dare acknowledge, there was a shadow, a guilt that he pushed aside. He never officially ended the bet with Kelce and Topper. It was a childish, stupid game, insignificant compared to what he feels for you now.
He forgot about it, it didn’t matter anymore.
What you two had was real.
Until it wasn't.
⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ
It’s after cheerleading practice, and you’re alone in the locker room, stuffing your things into your bag. The air is filled with the scent of sweat and body spray, the usual post-practice atmosphere.
You're zipping up your bag when you hear voices nearby, right around the corner.
Leila and Jessica, their conversation hushed but unmistakable.
You wouldn’t normally eavesdrop, but the tone of their voices makes you pause.
"You were right," Leila says, her voice edged with a cruel satisfaction. "About your gut feeling with Rafe and his new girl."
Oh.
Jessica sounds defeated. "What do you mean?"
Leila sighs.
"Kelce spilled everything when we hooked up last week. He was too high to keep his mouth shut. Rafe’s been playing her this whole time, using her to mess with you. It was a bet."
Your breath gets losts somewhere between your lungs and your throat, you can’t move or think. The room spins around you, the ground shaking beneath your feet.
No. No, this can’t be real.
Leila’s voice continues, unaware of the devastation she’s causing.
"It's so fucked up. She has no idea. She’s out there thinking he’s her Prince Charming, and all along it was a sick game."
Jessica doesn’t say anything, but you can’t bear to hear more. You're suffocating, your chest squeezing as panic floods your system all at once.
You’re running, out of the locker room, down the hall, anywhere to get away from those words, those horrible, soul-crushing words.
Tears blur your vision as you stumble outside, gasping for air, an easy escape from the nightmare that’s suddenly become your reality.
You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you can’t stop moving. The hallways blur past you as you wipe at your eyes, rage and heartbreak settling inside you. Before you know it, you find yourself standing outside the gym, where the sounds of basketball practice echo through the double doors.
You push through without thinking, your heart pounding in your ears.
The gym is full of movement, squeaking sneakers, the thud of the ball against the court, the grunts of effort as the players practice their drills.
All of it fades into nothing as soon as your eyes lock onto Rafe.
He’s in the middle of a play, dribbling the ball down the court with that dedicated focus you’ve always admired. You hesitate, the familiar warmth of seeing him nearly enough to make you forget everything you heard.
But then the memory of Leila’s words slams into you, and the anger comes back, pushing you to act accordingly.
You storm across the gym, your footsteps heavy on the polished floor. Some of the players notice you, eyes widening in surprise, you’re beyond caring.
The only thing that matters is confronting him, making him face what he’s done.
"Cameron!"
Rafe turns at the sound of your voice, surprise flashing across his face. The ball slips from his hands, bouncing away as the other players continue.
You always call him by his name, that's the first thing he realizes.
All you can see is Rafe, standing there, looking at you with those eyes that you once thought held nothing but affection for you. Now, all you see is a liar.
“What’s wrong baby?” He jogs over to you, his forehead creasing.
“Was I a bet?”
His expression changes from confusion to horror. The sound of your voice, trembling with disbelief, seems to have stunned him into silence. You want him to deny it and tell you it’s all some terrible misunderstanding.
Deep down, however, you already know the truth.
You saw it in his eyes the second he turned to face you, that guilt, that peek of something wildly desperate.
He reaches for you, his voice breaking.
"Baby, wait, let me explain—”
“Was I a fucking bet?” you repeat, your usual timid voice louder this time, edged with a desperate, frantic undertone that you can’t control.
You take a step back as he tries to get closer, every muscle in your body warning you to get away from him. His eyes are pleading, searching yours for anything that might make this easier, but there’s nothing.
No words can make this hurt any less.
“It started as a bet,” he admits, his voice hardly above a whisper, but to you, it’s as loud as a gunshot. “But it’s not like that, I swear. I—”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
He flinches at your words, features pulled together, but you can’t stop. All the heartbreak, the humiliation you’ve been choking down for the past ten minutes is pouring out of you.
You can see the desperation rising in him. He takes another step toward you, reaching out, but you jerk away,
“Don't touch me. We’re done.”
“Please, just listen,” he pleads, "You gotta—"
“No.”
With that, you leave.
Rafe’s voice echoes as you walk away, refusing to look back.
The gym doors swing shut, muffling the sounds of the practice resuming, and you’re left in the eerily quiet hallway. The locker room is empty when you push open the door.
You head straight to your locker again, hands trembling as you fumble with the lock, desperate to escape. Before you can get it open, the door swings wide behind you, and you know, without turning around, that he followed you.
“Go away,” you hiss.
“I can’t,” It sounds like he's begging, “Not like this.”
You spin around, scoffing at his nerve.
“You used me! And for what? A sick joke with your friends?”
Rafe's hands raise to placate you, “I know I messed up. I know I should’ve told you the truth, but I—”
“But you didn’t,” you cut him off, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. “You let me believe that you cared about me, and all the while it was a game to you. You and your friends laughed in my face the entire time, didn’t you?”
“It wasn’t a game,” he insists, eyes red. “It wasn't supposed to be like this, okay? This wasn't the plan. I changed. Being with you... it was the only thing that felt real to me.”
"Bullshit." You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“It wasn’t a joke. It started as a stupid bet, but I never expected to actually—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I care about you. That’s real.”
It's hard not to see the boy who had made you feel special, who had made you believe in something more.
“I don’t even know who you are."
You want to believe him, to take solace in the idea that some part of what you had was real, but you can't. You shake your head again, a sob choking you as you turn away from him.
“It isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “It’s not supposed to feel like a knife in your chest.”
“Please, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Give me a chance to make this right.”
"You lied to me, you used me.”
You look at him then, the boy who broke your heart, who turned your world upside down with a single lie. You know that if you stay, let him talk, you'll be tempted to forgive him.
With a deep breath, you straighten up, wiping away the tears that have stained your cheeks.
“I’m done.”
“Don’t say that,” he pleads.
Rafe's eyes are wide, glistening with unshed tears that start to spill over the edges. He reaches out again, his hand trembling in the space between you. It's too late. Tears stream down his cheeks, his broad shoulders shaking. His tears feel like another manipulation, a ploy to pull you back into him.
“I mean it. We’re done. I need you to stay away from me.”
Rafe takes in the resolve in your eyes, the finality in your tone, and he knows there’s no coming back from this.
“I’m sorry,” he says it over and over again, voice going hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”
"Go cry somewhere else, maybe to whoever you were playing this game for.
Without another word, you leave, pushing past the locker room door and walking away. A small voice inside you screams at you, to give him one more chance, but then you imagine the laughter, the cruel satisfaction, Rafe with his friends, laughing at your expense.
You can't do that to yourself, for a man.
Meanwhile, when the door slams shut behind him, Rafe leans against it, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He doesn’t feel victorious.
There's a deep hollowness but this time, he doesn’t follow you.
I came across this bts pic this morning and it gave me the big-time sads. So, I wrote a little drabble. idk what i'm doing; I'm more of a social commentary writer and less of a fictional writer but I had to get it out. I miss Joel. 😞
The snow had softened everything. Rooftops, the hush between footsteps, even the ache in her chest that never quite left. She stood behind the counter with her hands dusted in flour, watching the world through the bakery’s fogged window. It was early, before the bell rang, before the tea steeped. Just her and the quiet.
That was when she saw him.
A man on horseback, moving through the snow as if the cold had slowed time around him. His jacket was worn. His jeans were stiff with frost. His shoulders carried a kind of weary steadiness she recognized from people who had survived more than they ever spoke about. The horse beneath him walked with patient certainty. He didn’t look toward the bakery, but something in her stilled anyway.
She didn’t know his name then. Didn’t know he would walk through her door two days later with slush on his boots, asking if she had anything warm to drink. She had handed him a mug of tea, strong and earthy, and watched the way he held it. As if warmth was something he had learned not to expect.
She didn’t know he would return. Or that he would say her name in a way that made her feel seen without being exposed.
Once, after a long trade run, he brought her a small pouch of raw coffee beans. An exceedingly rare find. She roasted them herself, slow and careful, and brewed them just for him. He took a sip and looked down at the table, almost shy. She remembers thinking that tenderness looked strange on a man built from so much silence.
She remembers the book he gave her, a dog-eared copy of All the Pretty Horses with his name written inside the cover. He had handed it over like it was nothing, but she could tell it had lived in his hands for years. She remembers the wildflower he left on the counter one morning, tucked into a chipped mug. She pressed it between the pages of the book once it dried, the petals thin as breath.
She remembers the way he looked at her sometimes. Not dramatic. Not sweeping. More like he was letting himself rest for a moment in the sight of her. As if she was a place he trusted.
And she remembers the last time she saw him. His silhouette walking toward the gate, rifle over his shoulder, Ellie close behind. He turned once and gave a small nod. It was the kind of gesture that held more than words ever could.
The news came days later. She didn’t cry at first. She only stood at the window again, watching the snow fall in the same slow way it had the morning she first saw him.
Now she keeps the book on a shelf behind the counter. Sometimes she touches the cracked spine without opening it. Sometimes she thinks of the way he said her name. She doesn’t speak of him often. Grief has its own quiet shape, and she carries it without ceremony.
When the snow falls thick and slow, she thinks of that first morning. The horse. The cold. The man who rode past without looking her way, yet somehow found her all the same.
Memory is the place she keeps him. And in that place, he is still warm.
Alfred who came down after hearing so much noise: What's going on here, Mr. Bruce, Mr. Tim?
And Tim's face turned to Alfred like a rubber band. Bruce's face took a little longer, but he also looked at the old man in pain, seeking comfort or advice from his father
Alfred looked between Tim's heartbroken face and Bruce's wounded face: I don't know what's going on here, but I would advise you both to change and take your conversation upstairs
And Tim only saw red
Tim: This is- I'm so done!, I'm so fucking done, with you!
He pointed aggressively at Bruce
Tim: You!
Damian, who had stood on the sidelines and now seemed personally offended
Tim: And you! And everyone else in this fucking family!
Finally he pointed at Alfred even more aggressively
Alfred, shocked by the open display of hatred towards him, he felt his heart heavy: Mr. Tim- I-
For the first time in perhaps ever, Alfred hesitated
Damian: Hey! You have nothing to yell at Pennyworth for!
He defended
Tim: Shut up Damian, this isn't about you!
He silenced him and turned to both adults now
Tim: It's about you, and what you did to me
Both adults looked at each other and remained silent
Tim: You, you were an abuser and I didn't deserve that, any of this, I've always tried to please you, to live up to what you wanted! And you?! You left him, Alfred, and I wish I didn't hate you like Dick and Jason do, but all I see when I come into this house is an abuser and the person who let him! Don't play dumb, Alfred, you- You're just as bad as Bruce! And even if Bruce was the problem, you never made me feel welcome! Never-! I had to walk home a hundred times with bruised ribs, ribs that you bandaged up and then pretended didn't exist!
His throat was now raw and his voice had become cracked and squeaky. And both adults, when they saw Tim, didn't see the 17-year-old running a multi-million dollar company, they just saw the 12-year-old excited to be Robin and looking for any kind of validation they could give him
And this was what they gave him, a house where he didn't feel safe or welcome, a family he avoided like fire avoids water, thousands of reasons not to return and they robbed him of any kind of childhood he could've had
And the two adults remained silent, unable to deny or say anything, because they had nothing to say. Tim had said enough for them
Tim: You say you loved all the children in this mansion, but guess what, Alfred, I was once a child myself, and the only thing I ever got from here, never came from you. When I came here to become Robin, I thought... I thought I might get something like Jason and Dick got, too, but it seems the only thing I'll get from you is an inscription on my grave. What will you put this time, Alfred? "A good soldier," "A good son"?
Silence was his response
Tim: Fuck you all
He pulled off his cape and threw it on the ground
Tim: Fuck you all. I'm tired of this, tired of-! Of everyone wanting something from me! I quit
He ripped off his tool belt and threw it at Bruce
Tim: I quit your stupid last name, I quit your stupid company, I quit being Red Robin, I quit everything
When he had nothing left to tear off, he kicked things off the floor
Tim: I'm done! And if you ever- And if you ever care even a little, don't look for me! I don't want anything to do with this family, all of you-!
He looked at the people in the cave and seemed about to cry
Tim: I hope you-! Fuck you all, I never deserved this! Fuck you, I hope you all fuck off and-!
His voice broke and his crying intensified
Tim: I hope you die
His voice trailed off as he tried to wipe away the tears that kept running down his cheeks
Tim: I hope you suffer at least a fraction of what you did to me and...! And... And why can't I hate you...? Why can't I hate you...?
His voice sounded so tired
Tim: All I ever wanted was to be... to be enough, for you to love me... and I want to hate you but- but you're my father, and they're my brothers and... and I'm so tired, I want to go home, I want to feel safe and I want to hate you! Why can't hate you?!
He collapsed on the ground, like all his other things, like a pathetic spectacle of a pathetic child. He felt miserable in the eyes of the people who hurt him, he felt vulnerable and naked and... and he didn't care anymore, the weight he had been carrying for so long finally lifted from his shoulders and he felt satisfaction at the heartbroken look on Bruce's face and the pain on Alfred's face, and Tim simply didn't care about being on the ground anymore
He didn't care about anything anymore, just like he didn't matter
///
Part 1 Jumpscare!!!
That awkward conversation I had!!
///
And no one gets any comfort because god knows I don't know how to write about comfort, Tim deserved that breakdown and Bruce and Alfred deserved to have someone point out to their faces that they were, in fact, abusive and ruined a child's life
I would do this with Dick, Jason, Damian and Barb too, but I haven't read many comics about them, fanfics? sure, but I don't know how much of it is canon and what their real personalities are
Bruce ruined his children's futures, but canonically he also saved them. Dick was saved from becoming GraySon, Jason was rescued from the streets, Damian was saved from the League of Assassins, and Barb... Barb made choices
But Dick was also condemned to the superhero life and all the harm that entails, Jason was condemned to die, Damian went from an abusive mother to a neglectful father, and Barb... well, she's now permanently in a wheelchair
There's just too much to unpack there!!!! And my psychology books are begging to be opened again, but Tim is my favorite and that means everything I think of will be about or referring to him
There were very few people within the Walls who were granted access to conversations that could alter the course of humanity itself, and fewer still who were expected to stand quietly in the room while those conversations unfolded. You had become one of them. Every report passed through your hands before anyone else's. Every meeting between commanders, ministers, and military officials found you standing just off to the side with pen in hand, recording decisions that most soldiers would never even know had been made.
It was exactly the position Marley had wanted you to obtain.
From here, you saw everything.
The aftermath of Stohess had thrown the military into complete disarray, yet Erwin stood before the officials with the same unwavering composure he always possessed. He neither denied nor defended the destruction that had been wrought. Instead, he acknowledged it plainly. Lives had been lost. Innocent civilians had died. Homes had been reduced to rubble because of decisions he had made.
He apologized for that.
Then, without allowing anyone to mistake his remorse for regret, he explained why he would make the same decision again.
Humanity had not been attacked because of the Scouts. Humanity had been attacked because someone feared what the Scouts were beginning to uncover. The battle in Stohess had not been an act of reckless ambition. It had been a counterattack against the truth.
Against whatever existed beyond the Walls.
You listened as voices rose around the room, officials condemning the casualties while others questioned the necessity of the operation. Erwin answered each accusation with unnerving calm, never once raising his voice. There was kindness in the way he acknowledged every civilian life that had been lost, genuine sorrow that no amount of discipline could conceal.
But beneath that kindness lay something far colder.
Something that made him terrifying.
Erwin Smith would sacrifice ninety percent of humanity if he believed the remaining ten percent would finally learn the truth. Not because he lacked compassion. Because he valued the future more than the present.
He mourned every death.
Then continued walking forward anyway.
It was a ruthlessness unlike anything Marley had taught.
Your commanders had sacrificed lives because people were expendable.
Erwin sacrificed them because ignorance was.
There was a difference, and somehow that difference frightened you more.
He was still missing so many pieces of the puzzle. He knew nothing of Marley. Nothing of Eldia beyond the Walls. Nothing of Titans inherited by children or nations across the sea.
Yet despite all of that… He wasn't far away anymore.
Every decision he made brought him another step closer.
Another meeting followed soon after, this one centered entirely around the Titan discovered within Wall Sina. You walked behind Erwin alongside several officers while theories passed quietly between them. Some believed it had always been there. Others insisted there must be more hidden throughout every Wall. No one could explain how such a thing had remained unnoticed for a century.
Then Erwin spoke.
"There were only people who knew..." A brief silence settled over the group. "...and people who didn't."
The words lingered in your mind.
There really were only those two kinds of people. The ones who carried the truth. And the ones forced to live without it.
Marley.
The royal family.
The Church of the Walls.
Each of them belonged to the first group.
Everyone else… Existed in carefully maintained ignorance.
"Iris." Erwin's voice drew your attention back to him. "Report to Captain Levi." He continued walking without slowing. "Tell him to meet me in my office." The faintest trace of amusement crossed his features.
"I assume he's underground glaring at the crystallized Leonhart."
You offered a salute.
"Yes, Commander."
Turning away, you made your way toward headquarters, your footsteps echoing softly through the corridors.
Everything was beginning to move.
The secrets buried within Paradis were surfacing one by one. Annie's capture. The Titan inside the Wall. The Church's panic. Erwin's relentless pursuit of answers.
Threads that had once seemed unrelated were slowly weaving themselves together into something far larger than any of them had imagined within Paradis.
—
Liberio had never had graveyards.
There were no rows of headstones for families to visit, no flowers left behind, no names carved into stone to outlive the people who bore them.
When Eldians died, they were cremated.
Their ashes were scattered into the sea with whispered prayers that they would never be born into this world again.
It was the only mercy anyone believed they could offer.
To pray that the soul drifting out across the water would never return as another Eldian. Never again inherit a life behind walls and armbands. Never again be born only to carry the sins of ancestors they had never met.
As children, you'd all been taught that prayer. It was recited so often that it became instinct, spoken without thought whenever another funeral pyre was lit.
May they find peace beyond this world.
May they never be reborn an Eldian.
—
You squat quietly before the seawall, shielding the small flame with one hand as you light the candle. Autumn had settled over Liberio again. The air had grown colder, the wind sharper, and amber leaves drifted lazily across the stone path before disappearing into the sea. It was the same season Petra had died. You remembered because the leaves had fallen that day too, tumbling from the trees with quiet indifference while your dearest friend collapsed to the forest floor after you had knowingly handed her life over to the people who you called your allies. Every autumn since then felt less like a season and more like a reminder that grief returned no matter how much time had passed.
"Praying?"
Colt's voice pulled you gently from your thoughts. He came to stand beside you, hands tucked into his coat pockets, wearing that same easy smile Falco always seemed to have. It wasn't forced or naïve. It was simply kind.
You shook your head.
"...No."
Your eyes remained on the wavering flame.
"I wouldn't know what to say."
Colt didn't answer immediately. Instead, he crouched beside you and quietly closed his eyes. He folded his hands together and bowed his head before the candle you'd lit, offering a prayer to someone whose name he didn't even know.
When he finally opened his eyes again, you frowned faintly.
"You don't even know her."
He looked toward the sea before answering.
"No." A small smile touched his face. "But I think I know what she means to you."
Your eyes stung.
Colt and Falco had always been different.
They were still Warrior candidates, still children raised beneath Marley's doctrine, but somewhere along the way they'd managed to hold onto something the rest of you had slowly lost. They looked at people before they looked at enemies. They saw lives before they saw nations. Even after everything Marley had taught them, they still treated dignity as though every person deserved it.
Sometimes you wondered how long Marley would allow warriors like them to stay that way.
"...Don't tell Zeke."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"I wouldn't dare." The smile faded into something gentler. "Do you want to talk about her?"
The question hurt more than you expected. Your fingers tightened around the matchstick you'd forgotten to throw away.
"I don't deserve to."
You had no right to speak Petra's name with affection.
Colt was quiet for a long moment before asking softly,
"But you want to."
You couldn't deny that.
Your head lowered in a small nod.
"...Yeah." The word barely left your lips. "She was..." Your voice faltered before you forced yourself to continue. "She was a really good person."
You smiled despite yourself.
"The kind of person who made everyone around her feel included without even trying. She was patient. She listened. She remembered little things about people."
Your eyes drifted to the dancing candlelight. "She taught me how to make friends." The memory almost made you laugh. "She taught me how to gossip."
Petra had insisted it was an important life skill.
You'd argued otherwise.
She'd ignored you completely.
"And..." Your throat tightened. "She taught me how to accept kindness."
You'd spent so much of your life believing kindness always came with conditions. That every smile expected something in return. Petra had never asked for anything. She had simply loved people because she wanted to.
"...After she died..." Your voice became quieter. "I couldn't carry it anymore." The words came slowly, as though they had lived inside you for years waiting to be spoken. "The guilt." You stared at your own reflection wavering faintly in the water below. "So I stopped trying."
You laughed once, bitterly.
"I buried myself in being a Warrior again." It had been easier that way. If you convinced yourself the mission was all that mattered… Then perhaps Petra's death could become another sacrifice instead of another friend.
"The mission became everything." You swallowed. "I was hurting people no matter what I chose."
Paradis.
Liberio.
There had never been a decision that spared everyone.
"So I convinced myself..." You closed your eyes. "...that if people were going to get hurt because of me anyway..." Your voice cracked. "...then I might as well make those deaths mean something." It was easier to become empty than to continue breaking apart. "I thought if I hollowed myself out enough..." The breeze carried a few leaves into the sea. "...I wouldn't feel it anymore."
A sad smile crossed your face.
"She would've hated that."
Petra never liked it when you disappeared into yourself. Whenever the world stopped making sense, she'd always find some excuse to drag you back out again. Tea. Cards. Cleaning. Gossip about Oluo. Anything. She'd smile, grab your wrist, and refuse to let you drown alone.
"She always shook her head whenever I tried pretending nothing mattered." Silence settled between the two of you.
Colt didn't interrupt.
He didn't tell you Petra would forgive you. He didn't say none of it was your fault. He knew better than to offer comfort built on things neither of you believed. After a while, he cleared his throat.
"...Was she pretty?"
You blinked before letting out a small, genuine laugh.
"She had a lover."
Colt's eyes widened.
"...Oh." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was trying to lighten the mood." Another awkward pause. "...I think I made it worse."
The laugh that escaped you this time felt unfamiliar.
Lighter.
Because Petra would've laughed too.
You looked back toward the candle, its small flame flickering stubbornly against the autumn wind.
"...Thank you, Colt." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "We never got to bury her."
The words lingered between you.
There had been no funeral.
No grave to kneel before.
No flowers left behind.
Only a forest somewhere across the sea that had become her resting place because there hadn't been enough time to bring her home.
So you lit a candle instead.
It wasn't enough.
It would never be enough.
But as the tiny flame burned against the autumn wind, you hoped that somehow, impossibly, if souls truly wandered as the old prayers claimed they did...
...she would know that someone still remembered her.
Even if that someone was you.
—
“Captain, the Commander is asking for you in his office.”
Your voice sounded steady enough.
You weren't.
Levi didn't answer immediately. He remained standing before Annie's crystallized form, his gaze fixed on the woman encased forever beyond reach. The crystal reflected the dim light of the underground chamber, cold and unchanging, preserving the face of someone who had taken so much from all of you.
You couldn't begin to guess what was going through his mind.
He had lost his entire squad.
People he'd handpicked. People he'd fought beside for years. People he'd trusted to protect Eren when he couldn't.
And now Annie remained here as the only thing left behind. A prison no blade could cut through. A reminder that there would never be justice satisfying enough to undo what had happened.
You had made your decision.
You had buried Iris alongside Petra.
There would be no more reaching for Levi's hand when the nightmares became too much. No more falling asleep together in his office after endless nights of paperwork. No more mornings spent pretending there was a future waiting beyond the next expedition.
You couldn't afford that weakness anymore.
You had surrendered yourself to the mission again.
To Marley.
To being a Warrior.
That meant surrendering him too.
It should have been simple.
Then he turned around.
Your breath caught.
His expression hadn't changed.
Levi still wore the same unreadable face he always had.
But his eyes… There was the faintest redness around them.
So slight that almost no one else would have noticed.
You did.
Your body reacted before your mind could stop it.
Every instinct screamed at you to cross the distance between you. To wrap your arms around him. To let him rest, just for a moment. To apologize for everything. To tell him none of this was his fault.
Your legs locked where you stood.
You couldn't move.
If you touched him now… You weren't certain you'd ever find the strength to let him go again.
Levi looked away first, exhaling quietly.
“Did he say it was urgent?”
“No.” Your voice almost faltered. “But I'm assuming it is, considering the situation.”
Silence settled between you.
You remained exactly where you were. Far enough away that your hands couldn't betray you. Close enough that you still remembered how it felt to hold his.
You hated yourself for noticing the exhaustion in his posture. For wondering whether he'd eaten. For wanting, more than anything, to smooth the worry from his face the way you once would have.
None of that belonged to you anymore.
Those comforts had been for Iris.
She was gone.
“Looks like we aren't sleeping again.” The attempt at dry humor caught you off guard.
Even now… Even after everything… He was still trying to make things easier for you.
You forced yourself to smile. “Looks like it.” It didn't reach your eyes.
Levi noticed.
Of course he noticed.
He mistook it for grief.
He thought Petra's death had hollowed you out.
He thought that was why you wouldn't come close anymore.
Why you no longer reached for him.
Why every smile looked as though it hurt.
He couldn't possibly imagine the truth.
That every step you took away from him was deliberate. Because staying close was becoming unbearable. Because loving him had become another betrayal. Because if you allowed yourself one moment of weakness, you'd abandon everything all over again.
“Let's go.” He turned toward the exit, and you followed a pace behind, careful not to let your shoulder brush his.
The walk to Erwin's office was quiet.
Neither of you spoke.
There was nothing left to say that hadn't already been buried beneath everything the expedition had taken from you. Before either of you reached headquarters, another messenger came running through the corridor, nearly colliding with Erwin's aides.
“Commander!” The young soldier struggled to catch his breath. “Wall Rose...!”
The hallway fell silent.
“The southern districts report Titans inside the Wall!”
Your heart dropped.
Wall Rose… Had fallen?
Your thoughts immediately leapt toward two names.
Had they done it? Why now?
The Founding Titan hadn't been found.
Annie had failed.
There shouldn't have been any reason to force another breach.
Unless...
You couldn't finish the thought before Levi pushed open the door to Erwin's office.
“Those damn Titans never give us a break.”
The frustration in his voice was quieter than usual.
Not anger.
Exhaustion.
Erwin looked up from the reports already covering his desk.
“Can you go?”
Levi didn't hesitate.
His expression remained unchanged.
“It's not like there's a choice.”
Erwin nodded once before turning to the map spread across his desk.
“You'll accompany Hange.” His finger moved across several names already written down. “Along with Jaeger, Ackerman, and Arlert.” Your attention shifted instinctively.
An odd combination.
“Will Moblit be there?” The question left your mouth before you thought about it.
Erwin glanced toward you.
“Yes.” A brief pause. “And you will as well.”
Levi frowned immediately.
“What for?”
“Hange is bringing Pastor Nick.” Erwin's eyes met yours. “Iris will document his statements.”
Of course.
The pastor.
The man who had panicked at the sight of the Wall Titan.
If anyone possessed answers about the Walls… It was him.
“Understood, Commander.”
Erwin folded the map closed.
“Prepare to depart.” His voice remained as calm as ever. “We leave immediately.”
—
“Sorry to keep you waiting!” Hange greeted the three young soldiers already seated on the wagon while Moblit stood near the reins, checking the harnesses one last time. “It took longer to prepare than we thought.”
Armin was the first to question Pastor Nick's presence, his confusion obvious as he looked between the priest and the rest of the group. Hange laughed, joking that they had somehow managed to gather the strangest collection of people imaginable into one wagon. Levi, standing nearby with his usual expression of practiced irritation, dismissed the joke almost immediately.
“It makes sense,” he muttered. “Erwin put this together.”
You climbed onto the wagon after them, settling beside Moblit near the front. He glanced over and smiled, nudging over to make room.
“Rare sighting of Secretary Iris out in the field.”
You returned a small smile as you adjusted the notebook in your lap.
“Move over already.”
Moblit chuckled, shifting aside without complaint. You turned slightly toward Hange, lifting your notebook.
“I'll be writing from here.”
“You could just sit back here with us,” Hange offered, patting the empty space beside them.
Before you could answer, Levi spoke first.
“The weight would be better balanced."
It was such a Levi thing to say that you almost smiled properly. Not because you believed that was the only reason he wanted you closer, but because it was exactly the excuse he would use in front of everyone else. You simply shook your head.
“I'll be fine here.”
He didn't argue.
Erwin's signal echoed across headquarters before anyone could continue the conversation, and soon the gates opened as horses lurched into motion.
The wagon rolled forward.
The sound of wheels against packed earth settled into a steady rhythm beneath the conversation that followed. Once they had put enough distance between themselves and headquarters, Hange finally began explaining why Pastor Nick had been brought along. They revealed what the priest had hidden for so long—that the Church of the Walls had always known there were Titans sleeping within them.
The confession immediately drew a sharp reaction from Eren, who demanded answers with the same intensity he always carried, while Levi calmly drew his pistol and pointed it toward Nick's head.
The old priest didn't even flinch.
Hange sighed.
“We already tried that.”
Levi lowered the gun with obvious dissatisfaction, clicking his tongue beneath his breath.
As voices continued rising and falling around you, your pen never stopped moving.
The habit had become an instinct long before now. Whether the notes eventually ended up on Erwin's desk or hidden inside another report destined for Marley no longer mattered in the moment. Information was information. It was what you had crossed the sea to gather, and after forcing yourself back into the mindset of a Warrior, you refused to miss even the smallest detail.
The scratching of your pen became almost comforting against the noise of the conversation.
“Oi, Four Eyes,” Levi called after a while, breaking the discussion as he watched Hange turn a small piece of rubble over in her hands with obvious fascination. “Are your hobbies so boring that playing with rocks somehow became entertaining?”
“Yes,” Hange answered without even looking up. There wasn't an ounce of shame in her voice. “But this isn't just any rock.” She held the fragment higher.
“It's hardened Titan skin.” Everyone's attention shifted toward the gray piece resting in her palm.“From the Female Titan.” Hange continued explaining that the composition of Annie's hardened shell appeared nearly identical to the fragments that had broken away from Wall Sina during the battle.
Armin's eyes widened as realization began taking shape across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hange quickly covered it with her hand before he could say anything aloud.
Levi rolled his eyes.
“You're unbelievable.”
“I know what he's about to say,” Hange replied, smiling despite themself.
You didn't need Armin to finish the thought. The implication was already obvious.
If Annie's hardened skin and the walls shared the same composition… Then the Walls themselves had been created using Titan hardening.
Your pen continued across the page.
The conversation shifted almost naturally after that.
If hardening could create walls… Then perhaps it could also repair them.
Hange suggested having Eren seal Wall Rose.
Armin added Wall Maria afterward.
One reclaimed district after another.
Humanity could finally begin taking back the land it had lost. Hope spread through the wagon almost quietly, fragile but unmistakable. You listened in silence.
They didn't know.
None of them did.
Hardening wasn't simply an ability a Titan possessed naturally. Not like that. It required something Marley kept under careful control. A serum. Without it...
Eren couldn't do what they were asking of him.
Yet you said nothing.
You simply wrote.
They continued discussing routes, manpower, and timing until a rough plan began taking shape.
A small unit.
Minimal casualties.
Nightfall.
The Titans would be less active.
Every detail settled onto the pages beneath your hand.
Every detail that could benefit the Warriors.
Hange finally looked toward Eren.
“Think you can do it?” Before he could answer, Levi spoke instead. “It doesn't matter what you think.”
His voice was firm enough to silence everyone else. “You have to.” He looked directly at Eren. “There isn't another choice. Our forces are barely holding together. We're out of options. You have to succeed.” The weight of those words settled over the wagon.
It wasn't encouragement.
It wasn't cruelty either.
It was simply the truth.
Eren met Levi's eyes without looking away.
“I will.” There wasn't hesitation in his answer.
No fear.
Just certainty.
Just the unwavering determination that seemed woven into every part of who Eren Jaeger was.
You found yourself looking between the two of them.
Levi's voice had been hard.
Demanding.
Yet you knew better than anyone that beneath that severity was someone who carried impossible expectations so no one else had to. You had seen the version of him no one else did. The man who carefully tucked blankets around your shoulders when you fell asleep over paperwork. The one who brushed your hair back after nightmares. The one who imagined a future where the two of you slept until noon because there were no more expeditions left to answer.
The gentleness he gave you never reached anyone else.
Everyone else received the captain.
You received Levi.
And somehow, that made the guilt twisting inside your chest feel even heavier. Because every quiet kindness he had ever shown you… Every moment he had trusted you without question… Every future he had imagined with you… You were still betraying him.
Still betraying all of them.
You lowered your eyes back to your notebook before anyone could notice the ache creeping across your face. And somewhere deep inside, a part of you wondered how much longer you could keep pretending that writing all of this down didn't feel like carving pieces out of the people who had loved you most.
—
When you finally reached Ehrmich District, the first thing that greeted you wasn't soldiers or commanders waiting with reports—it was people. Families huddled together beneath hastily erected shelters, children clinging to parents who stared blankly into nothing, carts piled with the few belongings they'd managed to salvage before fleeing. The streets were crowded with exhausted refugees, every face marked by grief, fear, or complete emptiness. The district carried the heavy silence that only followed disaster, broken every so often by the quiet sob of someone who still hadn't accepted that there was nothing left to return to.
Pastor Nick came to an abrupt stop.
His eyes wandered across the sea of displaced civilians as though he had never imagined the consequences of the Walls breaking beyond abstract scripture.
Levi clicked his tongue before driving the heel of his boot into the back of the pastor.
"Keep moving," he muttered. "Unless you want to get lost."
Nick stumbled forward but didn't continue walking.
He simply stared.
"This is..."
"What did you expect to see?" Levi didn't even bother looking at him. His gaze remained fixed on the refugees gathered along the roadside, his expression unreadable. "This is what happens when the Walls fall."
The words struck far deeper than they should have. Your stomach twisted so violently that you almost doubled over. Before you could stop yourself, your expression faltered, guilt surfacing across your face faster than you could hide it.
Levi continued, his voice low and edged with bitterness.
"Take a good look." Only then did he glance back at the pastor. "These are the faces of people who've lost everything." His jaw tightened. "The faces of everyone you and your people abandoned."
The accusation wasn't yours to carry.
It was meant for Pastor Nick.
For the Church.
For the people who had hidden the truth behind prayers and stone walls while countless others died never understanding why.
But your body didn't know the difference.
Because if those words fit anyone… They fit you.
You had stood beside the people who mourned while knowing pieces of the truth they were desperately searching for.
Every frightened child you passed… Every grieving family… Every empty stare… You had a hand in it.
The guilt settled inside your chest with familiar cruelty.
You were the guiltiest person standing here.
Perhaps sensing that silence would no longer protect what he believed, Pastor Nick finally relented.
He still refused to speak about the Titans within the Walls.
But he gave you something.
A name.
"...Christa Lenz."
You immediately committed it to memory. Another clue. Another thread leading toward the truth Marley so badly wanted to find. Another piece of information that would eventually make its way into your reports.
The mission continued.
You continued.
As the group prepared to separate, you instinctively followed after Hange, notebook already in hand. You barely managed two steps before someone caught your wrist.
You looked down.
Levi.
His grip wasn't painful.
Just firm enough to stop you.
"Where are you going?" His brows were drawn together in a frown.
"With Squad Leader Hange." You gestured toward the others. "I have to be there. Those were Commander Erwin's orders."
"No, you don't." His answer came immediately. "It's dangerous."
You looked at him for a long moment before answering quietly.
"Captain... I'm a soldier." You offered him a tired smile that never quite reached your eyes. "These are my orders."
For a moment he didn't respond. He only continued holding your wrist. Then, almost so quietly you thought you'd imagined it—
"...Why don't you call me by my name anymore?"
The question caught you completely off guard.
You blinked.
"What?"
He looked away almost immediately, jaw tightening.
"...Forget it." A quiet sigh escaped him. "I know it's been hard." His shoulders lowered ever so slightly. "I'm not trying to make this about me when the whole world's falling apart."
Your chest ached.
The whole world.
You lowered your gaze. "I..." The apology caught in your throat. "I'm sorry." You couldn't even explain what you were apologizing for anymore. "I just..." Your voice shook. "I don't know." Your fingers curled weakly against your notebook. "Everything's just been..."
Too much.
Too many lies.
Too many deaths.
Too many people who still looked at you with kindness you no longer deserved.
Levi's expression softened almost immediately.
Just like always.
He didn't press.
He never did.
"You don't have to explain." His thumb brushed lightly against the back of your hand. Then, after a small pause—"Just come back to me." His voice had become so quiet you almost missed it. "Alive."
Your heart twisted painfully.
Could you? Did you even have the right to promise something like that anymore? What right did you have to return to him after everything you'd already done? After Petra. After the expedition. After Annie. After every report you'd written. After every betrayal you still intended to commit.
You should have stepped away. You should have kept your distance. You had promised yourself that Iris was over. That there was only the Warrior now. That loving Levi had become another weakness to bury beneath duty. But standing here, with him looking at you as though your safety still mattered more than his own...
You couldn't.
No matter how hard you tried to pull away, some selfish, desperate part of you still reached back toward him. You wanted to stay. You wanted to keep pretending.
You wanted one more moment where you could believe you were simply Iris, standing beside the man she loved, instead of a spy waiting for the next chance to betray him.
So you lied. Maybe for yourself. Maybe for him. Maybe because neither of you deserved to have this moment ruined by the truth.
"I promise." The word came out barely above a whisper. "I'll come back." For the first time in what felt like forever, you forced yourself to meet his eyes. "...Levi."
Something softened in his expression the moment you said his name. He lifted your hand, giving it one firm squeeze before pressing a quick kiss against your knuckles. The gesture was so familiar.
So gentle.
So painfully ordinary.
Without thinking, you turned your hand over and brushed your lips against the very same spot. His ears immediately reddened. You almost smiled.
"I'll see you later?"
He cleared his throat, looking away.
"...Just go already."
His words carried their usual impatience. His voice didn't. It was far too soft. You watched him for one second longer before finally pulling your hand away. As you walked toward Hange, you could still feel the warmth of his kiss lingering against your skin.
You rubbed your thumb over the spot without realizing it.
You really were the worst.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━━━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
