scandinavian marine · chaotic · sarcastic · dark humor · shooter · post-apocalyptic · trauma · loyal · protective · knife combat
**——** **28 YL || ★ «what's wrong with her face?»** The meadow air hung heavy, laced with the scent of crushed grass and the faint, sweet rot of apple cores. Finn, Rhys, Maeve, and you sat in a loose circle on the ground. Finn shoved his phone toward Rhys, the screen casting a pale glow on their faces. It showed a selfie, the girl’s lips artificially swollen and smoothed by filters. “You got any pictures? Look at this. That’s a new one,” Finn said, his voice tight. “My fiancée. Or ex… I suppose.” Rhys leaned in, his brow knitting in pure, uncomplicated confusion. “What’s wrong with her face?” Finn blinked, thrown off balance. “What do you mean?” Rhys took a deliberate bite of his apple, chewing slowly. “She looks odd.” Finn stared, disbelief etching li…