#are these going to get progressively more chaotic?? yes

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

*pulls the 45 cents I have to my name out of my pocket and drops them on your table*

I can't believe my name will be forever attached to this but one (1) Kenjaku solo session with Heianera!YN portrait, please

❝ life and death will always lead to love and regret (but you have the answers, and I have the key) ❞

Kenjaku x Heain Era!ftm!reader [one-sided] | Heian Era!ftm!reader x Sukuna Ryomen | r! is a curse-user & sukuna ryomen's concubine, NSFW | sub. bottom. reader (AFAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 4.1K

warnings: creepy/stalker behaviour, Kenjaku is a 'passive'-yandere (in the sense that Sukuna would and will kill him if he tried anything), manipulative behaviour, gore (detailed), Kenjaku jerking off in front of a portrait of r!, very unrequited

authors note: don't be ashamed, Gabriel. I got way too excited writing this and I think that speaks volumes on how I need to get checked, LMAO. On another note - yes, my YN's will always have a harem of men in the JJK-verse because that's what YN (and you, my dear reader) deserve!

I wrote this partially on my phone so bear with me guys...

*song on repeat: Bernadette by IAMX & Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage. * YN is described as having long hair because of the heian beauty standard (hair colour and texture not mentioned).

People often compared the years they lived as sand. The hourglass holding it is comparable to the human body. He often thought that metaphor was weak. People — humans — were not hourglasses and their years were not sand. No, no. That’s far too neat for humans.

Humans are messy. They are loud, and chaotic, they defy nature's rules and destroy her for the sake of progress. They had no balance, their compass broke when the synapses in their brains sparked conscious thought.

In that chaos, humans made curses. Or, well, you could argue it who came first but without humans and their silly consciousness — cursed spirits wouldn’t thrive.

People are flesh left under the sun. With their blood drying out, flies and maggots eagerly feast on what they can while the meat greys and rots. That’s a much more appropriate metaphor for a human life. If anything, the hourglass comparison should be used for himself. Constantly turning it over to keep going; uncaring of what kept the sands in confinement so long as it could continue its path.

Down, almost empty, flip, repeat.

Kenjaku had perfected his cursed techniques. He had earned this, he had earned his right to let his curiosities run rampant. He had earned the right to be in the presence of Sukuna Ryomen and you.

“Yuuji, you still owe me for eating my yoghurt from the fridge. It was expensive and it took so long for me to find it!” Nobara huffed. “You might as well just buy some for yourself. I’m labelling my food now.”

Megumi glanced over his shoulder at the lack of reply from the pink-haired boy. Nobara stopping next to him with her brows furrowed, sighing as she looks around for him.

“...I was just talking to myself? Seriously?” she grumbled. Megumi adjusts his grip on the bags. The grocery trips were a good team-building exercise according to Yuuji, a way to get to know each other better. Megumi and Nobara agreed after a particularly harsh mission that aimed directly at their novice team fighting experience.

So far, the results that were yielded from it were found that Nobara had an aversion to pineapples, Megumi had expensive tastes, and Yuuji was very good at budgeting money.

“No, he was right beside you a few minutes ago,” Megumi reached for his phone. Nobara placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she continued to scan the crowd.

A gaggle of businessmen came out from the underground train station and between the crowd of slicked-back hair, desperate combovers, and sweaty bald heads, she spotted him.

Tugging on Megumi’s sleeve, she pointed to him. Yuuji was standing and staring up at some sort of vertical banner. As they both approached, they shared a glance.

“Oi, Itadori,” Nobara placed a hand on his shoulder. Smacked it really. He didn’t budge. There was a dullness to his eyes that unnerved her enough to remove her hand. Megumi tightened his grip on his phone as he called out to him again. She took a look at the banner and her brows furrowed.

It was promoting an opening of someone’s private gallery. Some rich kid’s great-great-grandfather’s collection. The painting they used was of a true beauty. A man with long hair, dressed in the finest robes with a serene barely-there smile. It looked to be more European in nature, the art reminding her of the portraits of giant frilly dresses and puffy shoulder sleeves despite the obviously Japanese clothing, accessory, and manner in which the subject was regaled in the painting.

The banner must have costed a pretty penny considering how much detail they could see. Megumi could practically feel the raised textures the artist had used to mimic the pattern of the traditional robe the man wore. The flow of his hair, the texture and pattern it had; and his lashes were surely not that long in reality.

Megumi tore his gaze to Yuuji.

It was like he was in a trance. His mouth was slightly ajar, his brows furrowed and his hands shaking as his knuckles turned white.

“Itadori?”

Yuuji had long forgotten this. This ache in his chest that he sometimes woke up with. When he reaches for the empty space next to him and finds no one. Those moments in the basement when he watches a historical movie and his chest tightens as the nobles courted one another.

“Do you know the painter or something?” Nobara asks.

No, he wants to say. Not the painter. If he knew who it was that did this portrait, he’d tear their heads off their body. But the man? He knew him.

That hellish grin, that perfect face and most importantly those nightmarish eyes.

You’ve seen dolls, right? Those porcelain ones specifically. The craftsmen who make them, the expensive ones with real human hair. To be left on shelves instead of being played with. They would draw these white dots on the eyes, varnish them even, so their eyes would reflect back. A mimicry of humans, that’s what dolls are. But even then, their eyes still twinkled. Not this man. No. It was devoid of light. Pools of (eye colour) and nothing more. These eyes would swallow up any trace of light and diminish the stars from the sky with just a glance.

Yuuji knew him. His soul knew him. His hand clutches over his heart and his friends watch this with trepidation.

It’s been 2,000 years. Sukuna was no longer human and therefore his memory was not as fickle. He still remembers those moments before dawn; the sight of your bare torso breathing softly as you rested next to him. The sun filtering through the windows and making you appear even more ethereal and deadly. How your brows would pinch seconds before you woke. Those soulless eyes that shot through his very soul.

Sukuna could recognize you even if he was blind. He’d be able to hear you just by feeling your chest rumble. If he had to eat one thing for the rest of his life, your body and flesh would sustain him.

In his Malovent Shrine, whilst he sat on his throne, he’d summon his flames in his palm. There he’d watch as your figure danced across his hand. You’d twirl between his digits, a smile across your face as he watches the imitation of you.

It used to be enough. Lately, the action brings him more contempt then fondness. The flames never quite catch your shape anymore. Constantly shifting. That coyness is gone, mini-you petulantly staying hidden behind his fingers. So he snuffs you out in his fists.

He hates you for making him miss you. A King should not be missing anyone or anything. Yet, as his vessel stands here, Sukuna teeters on the edge of breaking the Unbreakable Vow he’d made with the brat just to gaze upon you.

The painter got your resemblance and it was agony for him.

How could he continue to be without you when he’s seen you again? Days ago, he wanted to kill you for making him delirious and now he wants you back in his arms.

“Itadori.” Megumi’s tone is firmer. Nobara smacks his shoulder again and Yuuji jolts forward, nearly falling until his rigid legs quickly come back to life.

“Huh?”

“Are you alright?” Megumi asks, his thumb hovering over the DIAL button of Gojo Satoru’s number. Yuuji glances at his wrinkled shirt and releases it, confusion painted across his face at the fading pain across his chest.

“I...yeah, yeah. I'm okay. I have no idea what that was....”

Rich bodies made life significantly easier.

What was that saying humans used?

Money can’t buy happiness?

Kenjaku chuckles at the thought. Foolish and vain — typical of humans. Clinging onto whatever they can to convince their egos they’re better than most when they’ll all meet the same fate. Kenjaku forgets the exact point where he stopped seeing himself as one of them, but he’s sure anyone would if you’ve lived as long as him. Apathy. Most call it a disease of selfishness. Kenjaku simply thinks they’re lying to themselves.

“Mr Geto?” the gallery was a lucrative endeavour. A piece in his grand scheme that required little effort but great rewards. More personal gain on his end.

“Mr Hajimoto mentioned you specifically in his will. The private room is all yours. Thank you so much for your donation to this fine institution of arts.” Kenjaku offers the man a polite smile and nod. The awkward silence prompts them to open the large doors and Kenjaku is greeted by you.

(Y/N) (L/N). In all your glory. In his favourite colours and his favourite kanza. The bespoke lighting on your portrait makes his hands fall limply to his side. You were a brushstroke away from taking a breath. The colours used to recreate that undertone your skin had, the delicate curves of your lashes and the plumpness of your lip.

The two guards in the corner of the room are a nuisance. But with a simple twirl of his right hand, the Slit-Mouthed Woman makes quick work of them. This curse technique was truly convenient, the mess she made cleaned up by a different curse who laps at the blood with vigor. The noises are all muffled as he admires those vicious eyes.

Just saying your name makes warmth travel down between his legs.

“I’ve almost forgotten how you look like.”

Silence ticks by for a minute.

Then Kenjaku bursts into laughter. Clutching his stomach and covering his mouth as he does. He can still smell your blood. Even if Suguru’s body had never had the pleasure of touching you — Kenjaku remembers it.

The way it flowed out of you like silk ribbons. Warm and wet and virile.

“You are an unusual sorcerer,” those were the first words you said to him. He knows you meant that in a derisive fashion — the curl of your nose was a clear indicator. But that was the day a feverish need was planted inside of his very soul.

You. You. You.

The shape of your face.

The cadence of your voice.

The way the wind carried your scent to his nose.

The sound of your cat-like foot-steps.

The effortless way you carried yourself despite the heavy robes that a revered concubine of your rank would wear, along with the golden hair accessories that would probably break a lesser man's neck.

It didn't stop there either.

Your brain, the wickedness that ran through your very veins and that fire that burns within you. Kenjaku wanted to be inside of you in every he could fathom. To sit within that perfectly shaped skull, to thread his fingers between the locks of your hair and take a scalpel to that skin he so craves to taste. Or perhaps inside in the traditional sense, between your legs, embraced by your warm insides and your deadly arms.

Kenjaku ponders on the time he has. He decides that he should indulge in you. He undoes the robes this body wore and sighs as it reveals the torso. Bodies were all the same but he does appreciate the care Geto Suguru took into his temple — there was no need for shame when he's already desecrated this corpse so viscerally already. His hands travel down his torso and that pronounce v-line and past the patch of wiry pubic hair.

You make him feel young again. Reckless and stubborn. Your eyes watch him as he leisurely spits into his palm and strokes it over the tip.

Evil is such a lame word. So primitive in its nature, another one of human's attempts at letting go of responsibility. If something or someone were evil, they were inherently irredeemable. Humans used to call snakes evil simply for doing what a snake would do when hungry, instead of realising they shouldn't have left the door to their huts opened and their sleeping brat asleep.

Was something evil when it simply did what it was meant to do?

They were simply following natures course.

This act Kenjaku is doing now, is not perverted or evil, he is simply being. Simply living, existing, relishing.

If anything, you were the undoing. The evil. You've made, and continue to make, him lose crave and hunger. You were so cruel, so ethereal — so evil.

Kenjaku groaned your name, walking backwards and dropping onto the low seat the gallery provided. His legs spread and he hung his head down but his eyes remained affixed to your painting.

"He sounds beautiful, Mr Hajimoto," the blonde painter had told him once or twice or thrice. Young but talented, the way he used his brushes on canvas was so impressive and Kenjaku missed you so much (Y/N). He simply had to spread the wickedness of your beauty, immortalize it forever within canvases and lesser non-sorcerers minds.

"Did you know him?" his accent was clunky, the Japanese language tumbling on its delicate legs following the rhythm of the painters voice. Still, he — Mr Hajimoto, Kenjaku — gave him a gentle grin.

"Very well. He was my lover."

The small notebook the painter had written your features down in, it was displayed in this very room as well. In a glass casing, handled with gloves to ensure pesky skin oils wouldn't deteriorate his inked strokes.

Speaking of strokes, Kenjaku's was beginning to pick up it's pace. His smile now looser, like an animal that caught the scent of blood, his tongue curled over his teeth as he imagined the disgust on your face. You'd probably cover your nose with the sleeve of your robe and the thought makes his cock jump; you were wearing his favourite colours and it made him moan.

The notebook was filled with sketches of you. Kenjaku recalls correcting the human, correcting him when he disrupted the harmony of your anatomy. You were the humans muse for years, (Y/N). Even as he neared his death bed, the blonde artist kept drawing you. Sketches lose, your shape less tangible, but hauntingly beautiful. Like your dark flames flowing in the wind. Even as his memories of his life escapes him, the artist remembered you. What a blessing. Kenjaku had visited him before he died and whispered your name into the old man's ear.

Sorcerer Society keeps your name hidden. It's their way of control. Making Sukuna Ryomen more monstrous by telling others he ruled coldly and cruelly alone; death was not as harsh as being erased. They say Sukuna needed 20 of his fingers and his mummified heart to be revived. That's what those poems talked about after all.

A misunderstanding.

The heart was Sukuna's, yes.

But it wouldn't revive him.

"You were so angry," he chuckled out, "so defiant even when I was inside of you."

The sky was blood red, the black smoke making the colour more saturated as it seemed intent on blotting out the sun. Uraume had felt a sudden chill, you did too, and they swiftly rose as the scent of deceit was so thick in the air.

“Uraume,” your voice remained nonchalant. But there was a tenseness in your throat that even they could decipher through the layers of regality. They turned, mouth pressed into a thin line as they went on their knees.

You continued to stare, impassively looking down at the patterned swirl of their snow-white hair. The red and black sky turning the colour of your eyes a pleasantly mournful shade; the golden kanza in your hair that your Lord Sukuna himself had commissioned for you glimmered righteously. The teeth of a beast, the curling of centipede legs, and the melded wings of a raven. It was beautiful just as much as it was unusual.

“You leave your Lord’s prized possession to fend for himself?”

Uraume lips reveal a modest amount of teeth. Their face like a porcelain doll as they raise their head. It makes your heart flutter and squeeze.

“You are stronger than these worms, they wouldn’t dare attack you.”

This is true. A fact. You were strong. 100 sorcerers or 1, 000 sorcerers — it made no difference to you. They’d turn into dust and wither right before you. But it shocks Uraume when you place your palm against their jaw, thumb stroking over their cheekbone as you gaze down at them.

“How horrid it is, making me defend myself.”

They see your eyes soften. It was no wonder you were Lord Sukuna’s concubine. Just being touched by you, looked down upon by you; it makes their spine melt.

“I should have your head for your insolence.”

Uraume apologizes, lips stilling when your thumb presses down on them.

“Return to me. Whole. My Lord Husband and I will not be pleased if you do not. We don’t want weaklings to stand behind us.”

Uraume bows, their lips kissing your knuckles as they do before they raise and disappear from your sight. The screams of terror that are heard outside at the sight of them make you slip your eyes close.

Kenjaku appeared before you what felt like hours later. He looks at the scene with a raise of his brow. Your feet were soaked in blood as bodies were strewn across the wide room. The floor was shimmering, looking as though it was breathing as it creaked from his weight. The clothes the bodies wore painted a clear enough picture — they were your servants. Loyalties were swayed as the fight prolonged. These little ants thought they could save themselves from punishment if they showed these righteous sorcerers your head.

He couldn’t smell smoke and there were no signs of charring. The bodies were mangled beyond belief, guts spilling out, eyes gouged, arms bent unnaturally.

Yet, in the gore and horror, you stood across from him with only your feet stained by traitorous blood.

You were a vision. Delicately wiping away blood from the tiger claw kanza with the sleeve of a dead servant. Then, he watches as you carefully put it back in place atop your hair.

“Kenjaku.”

He bows his head, bending at his waist, then lifts himself up again.

“The Kamo clan, your clan, joined this rebellion. I feel that should be a good enough reason to kill you.” The fire in your eyes makes his heart race. He moves forward, casually stepping over a torn torso.

“That would be unwise,” he gives you a grin. This body of his is new. The stitches are still fresh and red. Most likely a desperate attempt of his to hide away while they destroyed his old body. The corpse is younger, and more plain-looking. Despite it’s Curse Technique being a mystery, you’ll take your chances at strangling him.

“I’ve come at the behest of your Lord Husband. To ensure your longevity.”

Your brows pinch. Kenjaku delights at the creases it creates, tucking away this sight into his memories for lonely nights. Then, you scowl.

“You lie.”

His giddiness is palpable. The wide grin on the corpse’s face is clearly not his own; cheeks lifted too high and smile too large and unnatural. Kenjaku must’ve been a truly ugly man with a truly ugly grin. The body struggles to adjust to this display of amusement.

“I’m not.”

He takes a step forward and you lift your hand. The standstill would’ve lasted longer if it weren’t for the yells and thunderous footsteps clambering up to your room.

“You lie!”

Dark flames roared out from the windows. The heat so smoldering it causes a burst of hot air to knock back the men on the stairs, burning their skin and face. The blood on the floor boils, the iron scent now more acidic as the once fleshy bodies now crumble into dust.

You feel his breathe against the nape of your neck. As you turn, he wrings his arms around you like a snake. One across your stomach, the other around your shoulder. That horrible smile is pressed against your skin.

“Kenjaku,” you growl through gritted teeth.

“That’s right. Say my name.”

Fighting feels a lot like sex.

Kenjaku can feel your passion behind every strike, the bruises you leave behind on his skin are akin to hickeys. When you yell out and scream, cheeks so hot he can feel the rush of blood to your face just from looking — the rapid pulse you have and the way your face is contorted.

Kenjaku pins you down. Your legs are thrown over his own while you gnash your teeth at him and spit insults his way. Your hair was so beautiful, thrown back around your head like a lion’s mane. He slides your wrists above your head and holds them with one hand while the other undoes the meticulous array of folds your kimono had.

Sweat drips down his nose. It’s all your fault. Using your Curse Technique in this room, charring the wood and setting it all aflame. Still, he could work in this conditions.

“Ah,” he moans at the sight of your bare skin. Watching the rise and fall of your chest, licking his lips as he places a hand over your heart.

When you kick at his stomach, he acts like he cannot feel it. When you kick again, this time hard enough for a loud crack to be heard, he looks at you.

“If you kill me, you will break the Binding Vow you and Ryomen had made with me.”

He feels your feet dig into his rib, the spiderwebs of cracks spreading further. He allows this with a pleased hum. Your ragged breathing all at once calms and with a blink, your eyes lose that unbridled fury.

“You dare say my Lord’s name so casually?”

Kenjaku laughs. As he leans down, he presses his forehead to yours. Your nose curls in disgust but you keep your lips pursed. The feeling of his sweat sliding down the sides of your forehead and dipping to travel the side of your nose; threatening to get into your eyes as it slips just beneath it.

“Forgive me, venerable concubine.” Kenjaku does not mean this. When he presses his fingers together and imbues his hand with Curse Energy. He enjoys it.

Slicing through your skin at a pace that made the cut more ghastly then it would be if it was done quickly. You remained stone-faced while Kenjaku chewed on his lower lip, every twitch or squint just fueling his hunger.

He is past your skin and now he sees the yellow, when he twists his wrist you grunt as he slices through the threads of muscles. He spreads his fingers and your teeth part as you let out a strained yell.

"You can be louder if you want," his lips brush against your cheek every time he speaks.

"When I return, I'll take pleasure in ripping your head off your body."

"Threatening me?"

He reaches bone. His finger scratching against it before he peels away and settles between your legs. Your hands aren't pinned but you do nothing but curl your fingers into fists as he shoves another hand into your chest. The squelching and pulsing of your flesh, the bursts of blood from your throbbing veins and pumping heart. The wetness and warmth of your insides. He can feel your body clenching around him, and he convinces himself its because you truly enjoy this depravity just as he does.

The size of his hands in your chest is unbearably uncomfortable. Invading you, filling you when you want nothing more than to burn him, as he moves his digits and wrists within you.

He grasps onto your bones and breaks it under the pressure of his wrist. Your blood is spraying him, staining his clothes.

"Your blood looks like ribbons," he whispers to you, "even your insides are like works of art."

You want this to be over with already.

Your arms move down, eyes still set in a glare. You slip your fingers under the soaked clothing and spread it apart further to reveal more of your skin. Shimmying your shoulders so your torso is now bare of any clothing.

The tent between his legs pressed into your crotch. It's hard to ignore, but you push through and grasp onto his elbow and force him to go in deeper.

"Promising you."

Kenjaku's elbow straightens sharply and he moans as he feels your heart beating in his palm. He pulls it out of your body, panting as your eyes slip close and your heart slows. Beating slowly...slowly...slowly...

Kenjaku moans at the memory of your heart in his hands. Your warm blood coating his skin, drying under his nails and crackling in the creases of his joints.

"I wanted to keep you on me forever," he grunts out as his pace gets faster. "The smell of you, of your flesh."

"I didn't need your body, but it was too beautiful not to be admired."

Kenjaku throws his head back, placing his palm across his nose and lips as he sifts through his memories so he can conjure it all over again.

The painting watches on impassively. The croons and purrs of Geto Suguru's cursed spirits echo faintly in Kenjaku's ears while his hips thrusts into his own fist. It's desperate. He usually isn't like this. Even when he was creating the Death Womb Paintings — even when his plans are so close to coming into fruition.

You make him like this. Make him lose control, every thought poisoned with you even when you're nothing more than a mummified heart hidden so desperately away by Sorcerer Society.

"I've gotten a lead," Uraume had informed him just a few days ago. "They've hidden him in the ocean in an underwater research facility."

"Underwater, hah, they think it'll keep your flames contained. Keep your loyal servant away as if the depths of the ocean is enough to scare them, us — Oh, (Y/N)."

His fist stops and Kenjaku stands, removing his clothing fully as he places a hand against the wall of the gallery. The textured wall, the grooves, give way to his nails as he digs them in. He stares into your eyes, imagining the crease of your furrowed brow and Kenjaku groans out your name as he cums all over the wall.

"...Oh, I can't wait to see you again, venerable concubine."

[auspicioustidings]

Mermen au with mer TF141 and researcher reader trying to learn about their. . .biology :Dd Or them trying to bring progressively bigger fish trying to woo and then Ghost ends up bringing you a fucking orca or some shit,

...I had to look up the reproductive cycle of several marine animals for this I hope you are happy.

Deductive Reasoning

Words: 1.3k

CW: ...light fish porn (?)

It was just fascinating. It would have been dreadfully difficult to not talk about this every chance you got and thus break your NDA if not for the fact that you never left this secure little island base. You were permitted to, but why would you want to? You were speaking with living, breathing mermen almost everyday.

4 of them, although they had alluded to their being more out there. These 4 were a... well that was the question wasn't it? Only one shark did not make a shiver, only one seal did not make a herd, only one walrus did not make a rookery and only one mandarinfish did not make a shoal. Was there a collective term for mermen? You were told you were now the leading researcher in the world for this new species, so perhaps that meant you got to decide.

Or maybe you'd just ask. They spoke to you sometimes, or at least made noises. They seemed to understand each other at least which was intriguing on its own.

It had been Soap you had met first. You had been basically abducted and hurried to this island facility where they had captured a real life merman. You were enamoured immediately by the furious thing in the tank. Half seal, harbour seal you thought. Top half looked all but human (skin must be different to allow for underwater living and ah, yes, you could see gills), hair in a mohawk (which suggested someone had cut it to look like that, who? Was it a ritual? Did they have community? Was it an emulation of human culture? Perhaps some mating strategy?), eyes somewhere between human and seal (his physicality was a similar story, he was built strong and thick, a healthy layer of fat over hard muscle).

You perhaps felt a little bashful looking back. You had been so wildly excited, asking a thousand questions and going into chaotic science mode that it took you a whole 16 hours of straight observations and notes to realise there was a creature of higher intelligence being held captive in a tank. You did, of course, apologise profusely. He clearly did not understand what you were saying, but the emotion was human enough. Bemusement.

Soap had come about because he was slippery. Well, actually he wasn't, but the story was that he was slippery. Because if the military knew you had actually been helping him escape you were probably going to get disappeared. It was lucky the facility at that time wasn't as high security, you had gotten away with it.

You had met Gaz right there on the coast when Soap went slicing through the water. You thought looking back that Price and Ghost had probably been there, just out of sight. They had come for him. Gaz was a magnificent thing. His tail was the same pattern as a madarinfish, bright orange with gorgeous blue markings. You had shown him a tin of irn-bru once with a grin and learned then that Soap could laugh. He had come right up to you and after some form of exchange with Soap had been playful, showing off his tail and holding his hand out to you. You had been existing on caffeine and noodles so hardly your fault you took it, getting dragged into the water.

Oh how thrilling an education you received in the courting practices of Dragonets! He had made quite a show of displaying his fins, including a gorgeous dorsal fin on his human looking spine. You knew you simply must see them again if only to study why Gaz's eyes were more human while Soap's leant towards seal like. He was certainly the most expressive of them. His name had only come about because you had tried every other one and he made his disdain for them very clear. By the time the merman had been rubbing what you would call his ventral fins against you, Soap had grabbed you and soundly deposited you back on shore. Just in time too for the soldiers to find you because the doctor later told you that you were in the early stages of hypothermia. Totally worth it actually.

You talked the powers that be into allowing your pet projects to free roam, after all they kept coming back to see you. Over the course of a year the facility was upgraded and a channel added from the sea to an indoor pool that would allow for better study. Soap and Gaz didn't run on a schedule exactly, but they seemed content to swim in every so often and let you poke and prod. Fascinating that they should both be half human but their other half was so entirely different. Soap was half mammal, retractable penis something he was very proud to show off anytime he was in the observation pool. Gaz was half dragonet, and while you tried to put a clutch of eggs in the pool to see if he could fertilise them he had only raised an eyebrow at you and tried once again to pull you in. Tough luck, you had learned your lesson about going into the water with them when you had met Ghost.

It had been the middle of the night when he swam into the pool. Silent, you hadn't heard him (that's where that name had come from in the end). So unsuspecting were you that you were too near the edge and his hand had snaked around your ankle, one sharp pull dragging you in after you fell to the ground (hardly avoiding a broken nose). It wasn't only his tail that was shark, he had a sharp set of teeth that he sank into the meat of your shoulder without much ceremony. His claspers had been strong as hell holding you there, the only thing likely saving you his frustration at your clothes. He must not have understood the concept very well because he released you and dove, pawing at your trousers to try and figure them out. It was an endless source of fascination for him anytime he visited after. He would lean his arms on the pool edge and just stare at your legs, tracing the outline of your body with his sharp eyes. It only seemed fair to let him look since you spent an inordinate amount of time staring at him. He was sleek and muscular, every inch an apex predator in his prime.

It was a contrast to who you would say was the leader of their group. The merman who had saved you from Ghost that first time you met him, who had ripped him away from you when his teeth had sunk into the meat of your thigh through your trousers. Price had hauled you out of the water with ease. He was part Walrus, huge and soft with a layer of blubber similar to Soap's that hid considerable strength. Of all of them his animal half was most pronounced, his canines elongated into tusks and his hair thick and whisker-like around them.

As a scientist you could not possibly play favourites. Price was absolutely your favourite. He would be still and patient with you when you were working with him. He would gently run his fingers over whatever parts of you were in reach. When you babbled excitedly he seemed to listen as best he could.

If you had taken more than a moment to really look into it, you might have realised you were not the only creature conducting research. If you had used some deductive reasoning, you probably could have anticipated that fateful day you were dragged into the sea, never to be seen by the human military again.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part nineteen

authors note: the infamous chapter is finally here! a lot of questions you all have asked me are finally answered. i hope it's enjoyable and worth the wait!

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angst (discussion of child loss), language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 10k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns @romanreignsbae

To say your 2024 Bingo card has been filled with nothing but surprises would be the understatement of the century.

The past six months, really, have been mostly wonderful but also chaotic as hell.

And if someone had told you, way back when it was just you and Joe in your own little fantasy world, that his wife would one day text you in the middle of the night, wanting to meet and join forces to combat your apparently psycho-ex best friend, you’d laugh your ass off. Laugh your ass off harder than a guest at a Katt Williams special.

But, life is funny, and God clearly has a sense of humor, because that’s exactly what happened.

It’s also why you’re sitting on Joe’s bathroom counter at 4am as he finishes up in the shower, readying for his early flight.

“I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind to tell you I gave her your number.” Joe shuts the water off, and you immediately redirect your attention to anywhere but him as he walks out. It’s bad enough you two didn’t have enough time to get in another session before his departure, but it’s another thing to be so cruelly taunted by your sexy ass man in all his buff, your favorite pastime on fully display but unable to be touched.

Sucked.

Rode.

All of the above.

Joe continues, and your eyes land on him just as he’s knotting the towel around his waist.

“I should have asked you before I did so, but with everything going on—”

“You don’t have to apologize, Joe.” Cutting off his unnecessary apology feels like a good move, the right move. You’re not mad at him about that at all. “I know you would have never done so if you believed she had any ill intent.” And it’s the truth, especially on the eve of this Mariah mess. “Sure, I would have liked a heads up that my boyfriend’s ex-wife would be texting me asking to meet and essentially do an interview together, but it wasn’t a necessity.”

He chuckles, looking over and asking, “what are your thoughts there?”

A heavy sigh leaves your mouth at his equally heavy question. “I don’t know. I feel torn. On one hand, it’s kinda weird, ya know? Truth be told, I always figured if by some miracle I ever spoke to her, she’d try to kick my ass sooner than she’d want to grab dinner.” You quickly add, “emphasis on try because ain’t no bitch beating my ass.”

He chuckles, reaching for his deodorant. “Well, you better not be fighting nobody with my baby in you.”

Rolling your eyes, your hand naturally rests on your stomach. “I know, I just….what do you think?”

“I think you should do whatever makes you most comfortable.”

“None of this is comfortable,” you murmur, and it’s the truth. This whole thing sucks all around. “And that’s not an answer.”

He shrugs. “I can’t tell you what to do, babe.”

“Technically, you can, but you’re choosing not to. There’s a difference.”

Joe moves over and caresses your temple, sharing quietly, “I want you and Callie to come down to Philly a few days before WrestleMania. They’ll put me up in an Airbnb. I’ll make sure it’s big enough for all of us.” 

The abrupt change of topic confuses you, yes, but there’s more excitement at the thought of being reunited with him than bewilderment. It brings a small smile to your face. “Are you sure?” Any chance to see Joe will always be taken advantage of, you just don’t want your and Callie’s visiting him at such a time to cause any sort of distraction.  “I don’t want us to get in the way. You need to focus.”

“You two could never get in the way, and my focus is exactly where it should be.” His hand snakes under your shirt, feeling your soft belly. “I also want you to come to the Hall of Fame Awards with me.”

That definitely takes you by surprise. You’ve never attended any sort of formal, public event with him before, and the WWE Hall of Fame awards is like the event. “Are—are you sure that’s a good idea?” Being careful with your words and honest with yourself, you confess, “I’m not sure if it’s a good look for you to be seen so publicly and openly with me right now. Your fans already kinda hate me.”

Limiting your media consumption has been a saving grace in all this. Not that you were big on it to begin with. However, you have read a couple articles and made the even bigger mistake of reading the comments. To say some, if not most, of the internet wrestling community have nothing nice to say about you would be putting it lightly. 

There’s people cussing you out, people saying you should burn in hell for what you did, even some saying if Joe (Roman) loses at WrestleMania, it’ll be your fault.

That last one is at least a little funny to you, because for such big fans, they sure don’t know how WWE works.

Roman’s gonna retain the same way he has for almost three years. 

Ain’t shit stopping that.

“I told you before, and I’ll keep saying it until I’m blue in the face—I don’t give a fuck what they have to say about us. I love you, and I’m going to be with you, regardless of what anyone thinks. The Hall of Fame, Wrestlemania, hell, I’ll take you in the fucking ring with me if I want to.” His defense is so strong in its delivery and conviction that it almost instantly takes away any and all reservations on your end. “And they’re not fans if they have some negative shit to say about the woman I love.”

“Well, in their defense, Mariah did a damn good job making me out to be some Jezebel.”

“That’s partially why I think you should do the Live with Jadah.” His tone and expression soften, thumb rubbing against your stomach. “They don’t know you like I do, and they don’t need to per se, but they can at least see you’re not what she’s made you out to be.” He brings his mouth to your temple, lips lingering. “They can see why I love you so much.”

“Knew you had an opinion on what you think I should do.” But, regardless, you’re thankful for him truly allowing you to decide what is best for you. And you think you have. With a big breath, you settle on your final answer. “I’m gonna do it, but not even to let people see I’m not this horrible person. I just….I haven’t really had a chance to use my voice in any of this. Like…..” You work hard to help him understand where you’re coming from. “I didn’t have a voice in the DCFS situation outside of defending my parenting, but in this….there’s a chance for me to speak my side, to be able to defend myself. And I feel like I need to do it.”

“I agree.” You’re not surprised. Joe is anything and everything, including forever supportive. “Ya’ll are gonna use my Instagram to do it too.”

“Wait, what?”

“Baby, Jadah doesn’t have any social media, and you don’t need all them damn people on your page, nor do you want that.” He’s right. You hadn’t thought of it that way. “Mariah had an audience. You get one too.” 

Fair. Very fair. “Okay.”

He taps your hip, informing. “I’ll leave you the login info." It sometimes still amazes you how much he trusts you, how easy it is for share so many things with you that are objectively personal. His banking information, his fucking social medias that are literally tied to his career.

It means the world for him to have so much trust in you.

“We’re going to Disney after Mania.” 

Joe is just full of surprises, jumping from subject to subject. “What? I thought we were going for Callie’s birthday.”

“We are, for a second time, but the first time is gonna be that Tuesday after Mania. A day for you and Callie to rest.” 

You’re still trying to settle on the fact that this man is proposing two Disney visits literally back to back when something else hits you. “Wait, the week after WrestleMania? Don’t you have to work?”

“I’ve got it handled,” is all he says, all he offers, all he provides. 

“Joe, what does that even mean? How does that work? How do you just win WrestleMania and disappear right after?” Something’s not adding up. There’s something he’s not telling you, and it pisses you off for a lot of reasons, but mostly because you just hate being kept in the dark. “Is it being written into the storyline or—”

“I’ve got it handled, okay?” His tone is exasperated, which you find ironic considering you’re the one on the receiving end of his vague ass answers. “Just….trust me.”

That’s a hard one. Not trusting him. That comes second nature at this point, but trusting him and not knowing if whatever he’s handled causes any sort of problems for him. You worry about any hits he might take sometimes because of his decisions that are usually for the sake of you and Callie.

It shouldn’t bother you, but it does, especially because you know how important his career is to him.

“What about you?” That’s your biggest concern. This man has been ripping and running for what feels like months. He deserves a vacation. He needs a vacation. If he’s gonna be off for a couple days at least, why not use them to recharge? “You need to rest too, Joe. I can tell you’re exhausted, baby. There’s no need for us to go twice. We can just stick with May for her birthday.”

He shakes his head, preparing a guaranteed disagreement. “You’re gonna be five months pregnant by then. You don’t need to be walking around a damn amusement park while that far along. I don’t know if you’ll even want to.”

“Baby, trust me when I tell you, I could be nine months pregnant, and I’m still going to waddle my big ass around that park. I’m fighting any kid that tries to get in my or Callie’s way.”

He shakes his head, muttering, “the May visit might not happen if your ass gets us banned.”

“I can behave,” you murmur, recognizing you’re being a bit dramatic. Just a smidge. Disney has been a dream visit since you were a kid, so there's an immense amount of excitement at going.

“And why are we going twice anyway?” Eyes narrowing in suspicion, you realize and point out, “you’re up to something, aren’t you?” He rolls his eyes but says nothing. “You are. Oh my God, Joe, you’ve already done so much for us, we don’t need anything else. I don’t need anything else.”

It’s the truth, too. Going to Disney twice in one year when some people never get to go at all is absolutely not a necessity. No matter whatever he clearly has planned that requires two trips.

Joe looks like he wants to say something but decides against it. Annoying ass. “It better not have anything to do with a damn dog.” He laughs. “Especially with me pregnant now. Two kids under the age of 5 is gonna be a lot in and of itself.” Since you’re already on the subject, you add, “I’ve been thinking maybe my mom can come stay with us a little after the baby is born? So, I can have some help when you can’t be there.”

There’s something in Joe's expression that gives you pause, like he wants to say something but decides against it. “And I mean, I’d be fine with your mom coming too, I just—another adult will be great.” You throw that out, an honest thing, thinking maybe he’s wondering why it always has to be your mom and not more of his side of the family.

Although deep down, you know that’s not it.

“Of course, whatever you want.” He kisses your forehead and moves away to finish getting ready to go.

As much as you don’t want to feel annoyed, you do. This is at least the second or third time you’ve tried to broach the subject of post-baby, and he’s been elusive, borderline dismissive. 

It’s hard to tell if it’s because he’s maybe nervous about something, if he truly doesn’t understand why you’re wanting to discuss this now, or something else, but regardless, it’s annoying.

And you don’t like it.

You don’t like it at all.

———-

Things happen fast in Florida, or maybe it’s just you and the reality show that your life has been the past week or so.

Because one minute you’re celebrating an unexpected but welcomed pregnancy, and the next you’re the subject of major media articles, publications, and news segments. Followed up with being hit up by your boyfriend’s ex-wife, the same wife he had when you first started sleeping with him.

The same woman who you’re anxiously awaiting to ring your doorbell at any minute now.

The silence of the large house doesn’t help either. You're greatly wishing you could be distracted by Callie’s loud singing, running around, laughter, something. But, you asked Alexis to take her out for a few hours for you, not wanting her to be around in the event that things turn ugly.

And that’s a bit of an irrational belief on your part.

You would have never invited her over, accepted her invitation, agreed to even meet with her if there was any thought in the back of your mind that she has any ulterior motives. In a weird twist of fate, you’re both kind of in the same position, the subject of all kinds of public scrutiny. Granted, from what you have seen on social media, majority of the people are on her “side.” Some going even as far as starting and using the hashtag #TeamJadah.

And you can understand that, understand why the public would “side” with the wife versus the mistress, but it’s also based upon a shit ton of Mariah’s lies and smear campaigns that have painted you in such an ugly light.

That’s ultimately why you’ve agreed to this, agreed to this highly uncomfortable team up, because it’s the only and best way to reclaim your voice.

To reclaim your narrative.

The sound of the doorbell ringing literally makes you jump from where you sit criss-crossed on the new expensive ass sofa Joe picked out for the house. It is comfortable though, and for a second, you almost choose to stay in the comfort of the sofa versus answering the door.

But, you know that’s not an option, for Jadah to fly out on such short notice only to be stood up by the other woman.

It’s not a good look.

Clearly.

So with a deep breath and quick mental pep talk, your feet carry you to the door that you unlock and hesitate only a second before opening.

Instantly, you’re hit with two things: the sweet smell of Jadah’s perfume and Jadah herself. Right off the bat, you can’t get over how gorgeous she is. Her deep complexion is absolutely flawless and moisturized as hell, thick eyebrows that frame her almost slender facial shape perfectly. Full lips pulled back into a sly smile. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and thin sleeved top that show off her shape, both slim and thick where it counts. 

She’s as drop dead gorgeous as you imagined her to be. You can’t be attractive as Joe is without someone to match your aura. 

“Well, let no one say Joe doesn’t have good taste. You’re even prettier in person.” 

Receiving compliments from your boyfriend’s ex-wife was also nowhere on your 2024 bingo card, but clearly all projections need to be discarded at this point with how many stunners have happened.

“Thank you.” It’s strange. You’ve always been super good with compliments, taking them at face value, because you know that you’re pretty, always having the high self-esteem to recognize as such. But, hearing it come from her of all people feels a little…..off. Like, she shouldn’t be complimenting you. “Umm, come in, please.” 

She does so, walking and looking around, almost inspecting. “This place is beautiful.”

All of the compliments are throwing you. It’s not what you were expecting. Then again, you’re not sure just what you were expecting. 

“Thanks. Do you…want some water or something?”

She shakes her head, “I’m good, thank you.” Jadah gestures with a manicured finger between the kitchen and the living room. “Preference?”

Shaking your head, you leave that up to her. “Whatever you like.”

She nods and heads into the living room, sitting down on the sofa where you just sat, anxiously awaiting her arrival. Wordlessly, you follow suit, sitting on the sofa opposite of her. 

“Thank you for agreeing to this,” she says, placing her purse on the coffee table. “I know me reaching out must have taken you for a loop.”

“A little.” A lot. But, she doesn’t need to know that. “I—I can understand why. I’m so sorry you got caught up in all of this.”

“One thing you don’t have to do is apologize. For any of this. For anything. From what Joe told me, this girl is just psycho and has some weird obsession with trying to ruin your life.”

Scoffing bitterly, you can’t find a point to disagree with. “That sounds about right….”

No one says anything for a good, solid minute. Or two.

“Okay, why don’t we get the awkward part over.” Her voice takes on a new tone, one similar to boredom and insouciance. “We both dated and slept with the same man. I happened to be married to said man when you started sleeping with him, but that shit doesn’t even matter, cause you already know what our deal was.”

The deal…..

No, you have no idea what the deal was. That’s part of why you’re happy to finally be talking to her, because you have so many questions. Granted, that’s not the reason she’s here in the first place but still.

Your facial expression must give away the confusion because Jadah’s indifferent tone shifts to something else, something more serious. “Y/N…..how much do you know about my marriage to Joe?”

It’s a bit difficult for you to navigate how honest you should or shouldn’t be with her. She’s a stranger for all intents and purposes, but given why you two are now even sitting across from each other, maybe honesty is the best option. “He’s never really said anything about you or his marriage, and I won’t lie to you, it’s not like I’ve made a lot of effort to find out.”

There’s a part of you that still struggles with a level of guilt for the intentionality you had at the beginning of dating Joe to not ask about his wife, to pretend that you didn't see the wedding band on his finger.

Avoidance makes justification a hell of a lot easier. 

She chuckles, gaze settling on her lap. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Joe’s always been a good man. He was probably trying to protect me, protect my privacy.” Jadah shakes her head. “The irony, huh?” She leans forward, hands on her knees. “Alright, we’re doing this.” She seems to be speaking more to herself than anything, and you get it fully. You’re still giving yourself mental pep-talks just sitting across from her. “I’m gonna tell you the truth about us, but I’m telling you now, certain things Joe, even with how much he clearly loves you, may never talk about. Really, it’s years of therapy that’s why I can talk about it now.” On one hand, the warning is appreciated. On the other hand, it only increases your anxiety at whatever you’re about to hear. “I also have this thing where I use dark humor to cope with heavy shit, so just pretend like you don’t notice.”

The conversation with Kaylah in Vegas returns to the forefront of your mind, and you start to feel bad for opening the door for Jadah to have to revisit a clearly painful past. But before you can protest, she starts sharing.

“Joe and I met in college. I was 20, going on 21, and he was 22. He was playing football, I played soccer. I thought he was attractive and vice versa. We had a class together, and I approached him first. Next thing I know, we’re fuck buddies. It wasn’t romantic. We didn’t go on dates. He didn’t want that, and neither did I. It was just sex.” She says it so simply, so casually, and for a second, your mind goes towards comparisons. That’s kind of similar to how it was with you and Joe at the beginning. Just all about sex.

“Well, like two dumb college kids, we were having unprotected sex, and we both know what can happen there. I ended up getting pregnant. And this….this is where shit gets bad, because both his family and my family were of the belief that because we were having a child together that we should get married, so guess what we did?” She rolls her eyes, leaning back into the sofa. “I think that might have been our first mistake.”

A mistake….

Joe has also made a comment at least once or twice insinuating he viewed the marriage as a mistake. Had stated they initially married for the wrong reasons, and hearing the full story, you sort of agree. 

It’s such an outdated belief that two people need to be married in order to have a child.

“We did it, we got married. My family is in real estate, so we moved into an apartment they owned off campus and prepared for the baby. That was really the only time we talked and interacted. When it had something to do with the baby. And looking back on that, I can see now that even if we wanted it to work, it wouldn’t have. I felt nothing for him outside of the fact that we were having a baby together, and I know he would say the same because we discussed as such when we finally decided to get divorced. But, I’m jumping ahead of myself.”

Slowing down would be wonderful, because this is a lot for you to take in and digest. Jadah sounds like she’s essentially stating she never loved Joe, never had feelings for him. And it seems like he felt the same way, like they were only trying to make it work for the sake of the baby and their families.

She’s quiet for a second, and you already know the next thing that’s about to come out of her mouth. “There’s—there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it.” Another pause. “We lost the baby. I–I had a stillbirth. I was just about 8 months along. I—grief is so damn weird, because some days I’m okay, and then others, I feel like it just happened.”

Shaking your head, you advise gently, “Jadah, you don’t—”

She lifts her hand, stopping you as she explains, “today….today is an okay day. I’m….I’m good.” And you hope, for her sake, that she’s being honest with both you and herself. The last thing you want is to unintentionally trigger her. “We coped the only way we knew how at the time: avoiding each other and having sex when we weren’t avoiding each other. Both of which were unhealthy, one of which resulted in me getting pregnant again. But, I—I ended up miscarrying.”

That….that you especially weren’t expecting to hear. The loss of one child seems unfathomable, but the loss of two children is just so wrong. Like, it shouldn’t be allowed to happen. No one deserves to experience that kind of grief, and while your heart aches for Jadah, it’s hard not to think mostly about Joe.

To think about how that kind of experience had to have torn him up. How could it have not?

“After that miscarriage is when we tried to make things work, tried to actually be a real couple. It was mostly on my end but also that loss was the first time we actually tried to heal together instead of separate. I did most of the initiating, and I can be honest with myself now in admitting it was mostly because I wanted to try again. I wanted to try to have another child.” Her attention is mostly focused on her lap as she recalls what had to have been one of the most difficult times in her life. “Through therapy, I learned that I thought if I could finally just have a child, my grief would go away. Obviously, that’s not how that works, and I learned the hard way because I did get pregnant again, but I….I also ended up miscarrying again.” 

Words. There are none to properly describe what’s going through your head right now, the emotions all circulating throughout your entire body. Tears brim your eyes listening to this heartbreak. You have such a tremendous amount of compassion and sympathy for the woman sitting across from you.

For the man not before you currently but you’d give anything to be able to hold and hug right now. You had no idea he’s been through so much, lost so much, and yet he still stands tall, forever being your backbone.

Being your saving grace. 

“That was the last time Joe and I were ever intimate,” she continues, dabbing at her eyes. “He refused to touch me unless I got on birth control. Said he didn’t want to see me go through that anymore, and I believe him. But, I also don’t think he could handle another loss either.”

You’re not sure anyone could handle that kind of loss a fourth time. 

“I was the one who cheated first, but it’s hard to call it that when I nor Joe ever really saw our marriage as real. It was legal, yes, but he never loved me, and I never loved him. We had love for each other, but we weren’t in love with each other. And I think the little we did feel was because of our shared losses.”

This almost feels like a discussion that needed to happen in separate sessions, because it’s so much to take in. You’d always wondered about this marriage, wondered what the real story was, but hearing that real story almost has you wishing you would have never asked. It’s just all so heavy.

“And then he started becoming more famous and up there in the WWE. I don’t need to tell you how crazy his schedule can be. I barely ever saw him. We essentially became roommates. He did his thing and who he wanted, while I did my thing and who I wanted.”

It’s hard on you hearing all this, for obvious reasons, but there’s also a part of you that is grieving for different reasons. Grieving what maybe you and Joe could have been if you knew all of this. Knew his wife wasn’t the high school sweetheart turned wife, knew he wasn’t going home and playing house when he wasn’t in your bed. You always just assumed this was the case, the few times you even allowed yourself to think about him being married. It was more toward the end of your relationship as you realized you needed to start being honest with yourself about your relationship with him.

“I know for a fact Joe never initiated a divorce because he felt like it was wrong. Like it was wrong for him to leave me because I couldn’t give him what he wanted, a family. I can’t speak for him, but I’d bet that’s why he didn’t divorce me even when he met you. Because he’s a good man who still felt a sense of loyalty to me because I had tried to give him a child. I just….I couldn’t.”

Your chest tightens at her words. Did she just….. “Joe wanted kids?”

Jadah is quick with the response, reiterating. “He always wanted to be a dad. Even with our first pregnancy, we were both nervous and young, but he told me that he wanted a big family because he came from one.”

It’s getting harder and harder to keep the tears at bay. You hadn’t the slightest clue fatherhood was something Joe always envisioned for himself, something he always wanted. It makes sense, it makes all the sense now why he reacted so strongly as he did when he found out about Callie. The way he looked at you with such love and appreciation on Christmas when you apologized for not getting him anything, the way his eyes fell on Callie is he calmly told you that you already did.

A child. 

You’d given him a child, something he always wanted but could never have.

Shaking your head, you admit aloud but gently, “I didn’t—I didn’t know that.”

“Do you know what Joe told me when we finally realized we needed to just file?” She doesn’t wait for a response, most likely already knowing what your answer will be. “He said he was never supposed to be with me, because he was always supposed to be with you.” A tiny gasp leaves your mouth. “And he’s right. Joe never spoke about me the way he speaks about you, the way his eyes light up, the smile on his face…... He was never in love with me, because his heart was always supposed to be with you.” Any effort to refrain from crying is null and void. “And I’m happy for him. I truly am. I couldn’t give him what he wanted, and that’s okay, because you have.”

Her comforting you is the last thing that should be happening, but it’s exactly what occurs. She reaches over, placing her hand on top of yours.

“Y/N. I don’t hate you. I don’t think you’re a whore who ruined my marriage. That marriage was a sham from the beginning. If anything, I was more upset at you when Joe told me about Calista. I was upset because I wish you had told him from the beginning that you were pregnant. We could have gotten divorced sooner, and he could have finally experienced fatherhood. I could have finally figured out what I want in life.”

Sniffling, wiping at your eyes, “All this time…..I thought that I had been that woman, that I took him from you. That’s why I didn’t tell him about Callie, I thought—I felt like it was wrong, wrong because he was married.” It’s that along with your unaddressed daddy issues, that whole trauma, but while Jadah is relatively open with you about her struggles. You’re just not there yet.

“You can’t take what never belonged to me. I’m able to admit now that I never had Joe, and to be honest with you, I never really wanted him.” She frowns almost, continuing to share more with you than you ever expected her to share. “I wanted to do humanitarian work after college, and I didn’t do that because I was too busy living my life the way everyone said I should. I don’t blame Joe either. I guess I just wish all three of us didn’t have to wait so long to finally have what we wanted.”

In a strange sort of sense, all three of you are victims of some type of circumstances, different in various ways but still victims. 

“Are you….are you happy, Jadah?”

In all that you’ve heard her divulge, a no wouldn’t surprise you. She’s such a strong woman, but in the midst of all this, you getting Joe, Joe having you, where’s her happy ending?

“I’m bisexual.” It’s such a strange first initial response, one that you’re not sure how to reply to or take. Not that you’re judging at all. Good for fucking her. But, where is the relevance?  “It’s not a secret, either. I’ve been out since I was in middle school, but I’ve been in a relationship with this amazing woman for almost a year now, and it’s with her I’ve realized I just tend to form deeper connections with women than men. Especially emotionally. It’s gotta be why I never felt anything for Joe, because we both know that man is objectively gorgeous, insanely sweet, and the D is fire.”

That makes you laugh, the first in the midst of this heartfelt conversation. “You’re not wrong about that.”

“But, she’s amazing, and we’re so happy, so yes, I am more than happy.” Her eyes light up the same way you’re certain she’s seen with Joe when he talks about you. “But, you know what will make me happier?” She announces with attitude and determination. “Getting on Live together and blowing up this bitch whole spot.”

Another laugh that’s followed up with. “I’d rather beat her ass, but this is second best.”

“I mean, we can do that too. I don’t really know how to fight, but I’ll cheer for you on the side.” 

There’s more laughter as you realize Jadah has that dry sense of humor that can have you dubbed over in tears from the humor, meanwhile she’s got a straight face the whole time. 

“I wish, but I can’t be fighting in my condition.”

It leaves your mouth before you even realize what you’re basically confirming, and before you can freak out, scolding yourself for being so insensitive, Jadah is already two steps ahead.

“Seriously? Congratulations!” Her smile is just as genuine and happy as all the outdoors, as she explains. “Y/N, just because I can’t have kids doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for people who can. I know Joe must be over the moon happy.”

“He is,” you answer with a matching smile, hand going to your stomach. “I’m really happy I got to meet you, Jadah. I think….I think we both needed this.”

There was something so healing about all of this, some sense of solace and closure that feels like it’s been provided for the both of you. Her being able to talk this out and be honest about her feelings, and you learning that maybe, just maybe, your relationship with Joe was never wrong in the first place.

Because it was always supposed to be.

“I agree.” She squeezes her hand. “Now, let’s get started on our strategy for this Live, cause I’m ready to shut that ex best friend of yours fifteen minutes of fame down.”

———-

In another life, you and Jadah could have been the best of friends. 

There’s such an ease that comes with talking to her. Not only is she just as laid back as Joe promised, but the bitch is funny as hell. The strategizing your game plan for the Live is filled with her dry humor that almost has you in tears at one point. And it amazes you how someone who’s been through so much can still find it in her to laugh, to still be filled with so much joy.

It’s admirable. 

And maybe there’s a way where you can be friends of some sort, because there’s truly no ill feelings towards her on your end. You’re also almost certain it’s the same for her as well, but right now, the focus is on this Live. 

Well, sort of.

“I definitely think the cool tones will really compliment the white theme of the house. You guys don’t plan to paint, right?”

Joe never mentioned that Jadah is an interior designer, not that he needed or even had a reason to, but it definitely comes in handy considering you have this big ass house to decorate without a lick of knowledge about decorating. 

It didn’t take long to figure out how you’re going to tackle the Live, and you two even got your iPad set up in the kitchen, deciding that’s where you would hold it. She even set up the practice live so you two could familiarize yourself with the layout before actually going live.

So with that out the way, it only took one question from Jadah about designing for her to be assisting you with some options for different rooms in the house.

“No. Joe hasn’t mentioned anything about it.” You then remember. “We are getting a mural painted in Callie’s room. I guess Joe knows someone.”

“Oh, that’s awesome.” She beams, asking, “what’s the mural gonna be?”

Smiling, you answer, “disney. She loves Disney.”

“Y/N…..do you….do you think I could meet her?” She quickly adds, almost as if she’s nervous about even asking in the first place. “I know you probably need to talk to Joe first, but—”

“Of course, you can meet her.” There’s no need to think about it, no need to talk with Joe about it. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to meet her. She’s out with my best friend right now, because I didn’t want her overhearing our Live, but I’d love for you to meet her.”

She seems so moved and appreciative of this. “Thank you.” She motions down the hall, “you don’t happen to have any food, do you?”

Laughing, you answer. “Girl, I was just thinking we need to get this Live done, cause I’m hungry.”

It’s not too surprising on your end. In the past few days, you’ve noticed your appetite increasing, a strange symptom to have so early on in your pregnancy. Annoying, too.

“Well, let’s pig out on snacks, and maybe we can get actual food later,” she suggests. You’re down for that, thinking about asking Alexis to stop and pick something up on her way back to the house with Callie. 

“Sounds good to me.” She then looks around, noticing the speakers located throughout the house. “Do those work?”

Already knowing where she’s headed, you pull out your phone, opening up Spotify and reaching it to her. “What’s the vibe?”

Jadah sucks her teeth, taking the phone. “Girl, you already know.”

She moves her fingers around the screen before music starts to play.

Knuck if you buck boy

Knuck if you buck boy

Knuck if you buck boy

“Oh my god, you taking it way back.” And it’s so appreciated, cause this always has been and always will be your song. It’s aptly appropriate as well.

“We gotta be in the zone.” She’s dancing along the way to the kitchen, tossing you your phone as she walks backwards. “You still remember Princess verse?”

Is water wet? “Don’t play with me.” Making it to the kitchen, you’re barely able to open the cabinet where the snacks are before the verse starts.

Yeah we knuckin' and buckin' and ready to fight

I betcha I'm'a throw dem thangs

So haters best to think twice

Word for word, you don’t miss a beat, and Jadah is right there with you, dancing and playfully twerking to the soundtrack of every middle school fight back in the Y2K era. 

The two of you share a laugh at your silliness as she forages through the cabinet for her preferred snack while you open the goldfish and glance at the iPad. Frowning, you move closer, asking, “why is the screen still on? It’s supposed to be on auto—Jadah?”

She’s distracted, caught between Cheez-Its and Pretzels, answering distractedly. “Yeah?”

“Why does this say we’re live?”

At your question, she answers half-heartedly, “it’s in that practice mode thing, isn’t it?”

That would provide a heavy layer of relief if your eyes didn’t land on the number of the corner of the screen.

The number that reads over 100,000k people are currently watching this live.

“Jadah! It’s fucking live!” She spins around, confused. “Like, we’re on Live!”

“Oh, shit,” she curses, running over and also looking at the screen. “Damn, we are.”

Panicked, you back up to the opposite counter, lecturing, “I thought you said it was in practice mode!”

“I thought it was!” She defends, shrugging and reminding you of her naivety with technology. “You should have never left me in charge in the first place! I haven’t used social media since Tom and I were besties on MySpace!”

“Oh my god.” your hand remains over your mouth as you take in the fact that this thing has just been sitting here, live for the whole wide world to sit and watch.

“I don’t know why there’s so many people here. Were ya’ll just sitting here staring at her fridge?”

“Jadah.”

“It’s a valid question!” She sucks her teeth, pulling out the bar stool and plopping down. “Well, since everyone’s here, we might as well get started.” She reaches for your phone, simply saying “music.”

Believing she’s going to turn off Crime Mob, you hand it to her, but that’s too good to be true. Because instead of silence, you’re hit with Megan Thee Stallion.

I just want to kick this shit off by saying, "Fuck y'all!"

I ain't gotta clear my name on a motherfuckin' thang

“Jadah!”

“I said we were getting started. We need to set the tone.”

“We can’t be playing this kind of music on Joe’s account though.” At least, you think so. You’re not entirely certain what exactly his public image is supposed to exemplify. But, songs about fighting and cussing people out don't seem to align.

However, she waves you off, focusing on the screen. “Hello, everyone, and welcome to this special edition Live. I’m sure most, if not all of you, recognize Y/N, thanks to a basic bitch we’re about to roast alive in this here video.” She gestures to you, and unsure of how exactly to respond or act, you simply offer a sarcastic wave. “But most of you may not know I am because I’m pretty sure there’s only a couple of photos of me online, which is the way I prefer it.” She places one hand on her chest. “I’m Jadah, the infamous ex-wife who apparently hates Y/N and pulled up ready to knuck if you buck, but we’ll get into that later.”

Feeling more comfortable after making active efforts to push away your nerves, you tease, “bet ya’ll didn’t see this one coming.”

Jadah’s face lights up with a mischievous smile. “We figured there’s so much being said about us by this delusional bitch, that it’s time we speak our truth. And I’m just gonna say right now that while we’re doing this to clear up the lies, there are some things we’re not going to touch on because it’s nobody’s business.”

“None of this is really anyone’s business,” you add, the confidence growing by the second. “It’s all really fucked up how we even have to come up here and defend our characters and talk about personal, real life situations. I never wanted any of this, never wanted to have my face be out there, to have my daughter’s face be out there.”

“And that’s the thing, too,” Jadah seems to be feeding off your energy just as much as you’re feeding off hers. “I don’t have any social media at all. I hate it. After today, I don’t plan to ever do anything like this ever again. But, it’s also the fact that people are saying such cruel things about an innocent child that absolutely disgusts me. Like, people are attacking an innocent little girl and saying that it’s in defense of me, which is so insane because none of you know the truth.” She looks over at you, asking, “mind if I start off?”

“No, go ahead, please.”

“Bet.” She claps and announces. “I’m gonna keep this super easy for all of ya’ll. First things first, I have never spoken to that Mariah person a day in my life. Have zero clue who she is. The texts? Never happened. Phone calls? Never happened. Screenshots of said messages? Never fucking happend. Why?” Jadah makes a triangle over her mouth so her voice projects. “Because I don’t fucking know her!”

“More facts: Joe and I were married, yes. We got married when we were like 21 and 22 because I was pregnant, and that’s when people still believed children could only be raised by married couples. That’s the only reason I married that man. We were never in love. Never even dated. We were just horny college kids who didn’t use protection.” 

As strange as it may be, you can tell there’s a bit of hesitation on Jadah’s end before she goes into the next part. “We, unfortunately, lost that child. And experienced some other forms of loss that I won’t get into because it’s very personal, but to make a long story short, we ended up having an arrangement. Essentially, he did what and who he wanted, and I did the same.” 

She pushes some of her hair back, continuing to explain bits and pieces that are still true but protect her from having to lay out her darkest experiences. “I don’t even consider it an open marriage, because outside of us legally being married, we never had an actual marriage. As most of you already know, professional wrestlers have insane schedules, so when I tell you he was at the crib maybe a month out of the year? I’m not even exaggerating. That man was my platonic roommate.”

There’s a small smile on your face as her humor and sass melt into her delivery after carefully maneuvering around the specifics of her personal loss. “Ya’ll are all up in arms, coming after this girl talking about she broke up my marriage, blah blah blah. But, she couldn’t break up what didn’t exist. I never loved that man. Joe is a great guy, but we never loved each other.” She gestures to you with her thumb. “This is who he loves. This is who he has a family with. And the fact that ya’ll can sit there and claim to support him and be a fan while attacking the people he loves blows my mind.”

“So, it goes without saying, Mariah lied her ass off about all of that for clicks and views. She’s a liar. And you can print that in your tabloids.”

“I also wanna clear up some things about her if that’s cool with you?” Jadah nods, and motions for you to have the figurative floor. “I need people to understand that this is somebody who I thought was my best friend, who I’ve called a best friend since I was in kindergarten. Matter of fact, we met because some boy was picking on her, and I went up and pushed him, standing up for her. I’ve always prided myself on being a loyal friend, especially to her. So for her to do all that she’s done to me has been so fucking hurtful and confusing.”

“I found out that she’s been sleeping with my very first boyfriend, the boy I lost my virginity to and dated on and off up until I was in my mid-twenties behind my back since we were teenagers.” You have no intention of stooping to Mariah’s level, but if she wants to lay out your information for public scrutiny, then you damn sure can make sure they know just who they’re believing. Know her character, or lack thereof. “Mind you, he ain’t shit either and he can go fuck himself just as much as she can. Like, it takes two, but here I am calling this girl my best friend, crying and confiding in her about all he’s putting me through, and the whole time she’s fucking him behind my back.”

“That’s so foul.” Jadah looks just as disgusted as you feel just thinking and talking about it. 

“But you know what? As fucked up as that is, that part is well with my soul because I have a man who treats me so damn good, a beautiful daughter, and a loving, supportive family. So, that’s fine. What really fucks with me though, still—” There’s an unplanned pause as emotions get the best of you, just revisiting this subject. “Fuck, I said I wasn’t gonna cry.” Taking a deep breath, you do your best to continue without breaking down in front of the whole damn internet. “What gets me is that this girl who I considered a sister, who I literally made the legal godmother of my child, called DCFS on me, made up horrific lies and stated my child was in immediate danger—”

“Oh my god—”

“They took my baby away from me and placed her with my mother, so I legally could not have any contact with my child or my mom for three days. And that may not seem like a lot of time to ya’ll, but I love my child. She’s very attached to me, and I’m kinda the same. So those three days were torture. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t keep anything down, my chest hurt. I had to hire a lawyer, be interrogated like I’m some criminal. It was awful.” Your attempts to hold back the tears failed epically, and Jadah’s hand is on the small of your back, rubbing in a comforting motion. “And now she’s sold all these personal photos and videos of my daughter to the highest bidder, so now I worry about what kind of fucking disgusting perverts now have access to them. It’s been fucking hell dealing with girl. You all have no idea.”

Up until this point, you’ve made an active, concerted effort to keep your eyes away from the comments, not wanting to lash out or be unintentionally triggered. But, an accidental glance reveals a slew of incoming comments including hearts of all colors. 

It’s then you can’t help but to read a few, also needing to get your shit together. Crying on the internet is something you used to make fun of people for. Now, you’re in the same position.

The comments are a complete 180 from the last time you decided to torture yourself by viewing the public’s general opinion on you. 

There’s a tremendous amount of sympathy, support, and newfound understanding. For both you and Jadah, though, the majority of them seem to be aimed towards you.

A lot of apologies as well.

“And this is the kind of person you all have been deceived by. The only thing she was truthful about is that yes, I met Joe because of her. She won a contest years ago that gave her tickets and backstage passes to a Smackdown show, so she invited me, and I met him that night.” That’s probably the only thing you could ever be grateful to Mariah about, the fact that her letting you be her plus one resulted in you meeting the love of your life. “But, I’m not a whore. Not a golddigger. I’m very intelligent. I got nearly a perfect score on my ACT and my SAT back in high school. I was student body president, homecoming queen, prom queen. You look up Ms. Popularity, and you’ll see my fucking face. I have a bachelor's degree in education, I’m a licensed teacher in my state. Like, I don’t need attention from strangers nor do I want it.”

“And here’s the thing, my daughter is almost five, so I’ve been in the picture. If I was this big attention whore like she says I am, why have I not gone public or made my presence known? The only reason ya’ll even know who I am now is because I was essentially outed, but I don’t want this shit. Joe is famous. Not me. I don’t want that. I just want to live in peace and privacy with my family. That’s all.”

It’s a bit of playing with the truth, insinuating that you’ve been in Joe’s life consistently the past five years, but that’s one of the parts of this that doesn’t need to be shared on the world wide web. 

“We black and educated excellence over here. We don’t need validation from strangers.” Jadah says it better than you can as you continue to blot at your eyes, grateful the tears are drying up. “We need some church in here to lift the spirits.”

“Oh, Lord, what are you going to play now? We are about to get Joe’s account banned.”

She clicks around on your phone before the song starts playing.

We lift our hands in the sanctuary.

We lift our hands to give You the glory.

“You’re so stupid.” This laughter is so good for your soul, it’s the most you’ve done in such a short span in a while. And it feels good. “But why would you pick this damn song, knowing good and well it never ends.” Reaching for the goldfish bag on the island, you open and grab a few. 

“Y/N! Why are you eating? We are in church.”

You give her that ‘girl, please’ look, justifying. “Girl, I’m hungry. It’s snack time, shit.” You’re craving more than a snack, more like a full course meal, but Callie’s snacks will have to do for now.

“Now you’re cussing in church. Don’t drag me to hell with you, whore.” She leans closer into the phone, taunting, “you liked that one, didn’t you, Mariah?”

You almost spit out your food. “Jadah!”

“What? You are a whore. That’s why I pulled up at your house blasting Sideline Hoe by Monica in my 2007 Toyota Camry, wearing my Baby Phat bomber jacket to fight you that one day.” At this point, you’re about to piss on yourself. Jadah’s sense of humor is golden, because she’s saying all this with such a straight face. Never once breaking scene. 

You decide to play along, correcting. “No, it was The Boy Is Mine, remember?”

She snaps her finger. “That’s right. My bad. And then the second fight, it was Jolene. I played that when I snuck in your hospital room at Grey Sloan and caught you flirting with Dr. McDreamy.”

Turning your head, you try your best to hold in your laughter, but it’s impossible. 

And Jadah also breaks a bit, speaking to the phone and viewers. “You see how ridiculous and stupid this all sounds? That’s exactly how stupid majority of the shit that came out of Mariah’s mouth is. I literally just met Y/N for the first time today, this morning. And as ya’ll can clearly see, we good over here. She got her man. I have a wonderful, beautiful girlfriend. Stop being so invested in lives you don’t live.”

You start to add something else when Jadah interjects, “and let me just say this, cause I saw some people having the audacity to say this girl is ugly. Ugly where? The bitch is gorgeous. Look at her!” She gestures to you, adding, “she’s stacked in the front, and it’s sitting in the back. Shit, I would hit that too.”

“Girl, you better stop before they start making up rumors and shit about us all being poly.” Snickering at just the thought alone of that being the latest on the rumor mill, you jokingly coin it prematurely. “Roman’s Harem.”

“Roman’s Hoe House,” she suggests, and you’re nearly in tears from laughter. This bitch is hilarious. “Plot twist, everyone. This was all a publicity stunt for a new season of Flavor of Love featuring Roman Reigns.”

“Jadah, oh my god, stop.”

She lifts her hands to silence you as you lay your head on her shoulder, laughing your ass off. “We will be taking applications following this Live. If you are a woman of color with ass and boobs, please apply. Slim thick girls, ya’ll can apply too with the understanding your chances are a bit slimmer. No pun intended. Skinny girls….maybe try the Bachelor or something.”

“Jadah, you are a menace.” You are dying for her to meet Alexis. They seem very similar in a lot of ways, and it seems like they’d vibe well. Hopefully.

“Y/N, please, I am trying to build recruits for the harem.” She finally cracks, shaking her head and leaning forward to read some of the comments. She then asks you, “should we answer questions?”

That’s an easy pass, though you also know this is your one chance to really show who you actually are versus who you’ve been painted out to be. “Sure. A couple.”

Jadah gets to reading, “uhhhh, okay this one is tame. What’s the sexiest thing about Roman?”

“Jadah, how is that tame?”

“You should have seen the other one,” she mutters. Something tells you that it’s better you didn’t.

“All of him. That’s such a generic, basic answer, but it’s the truth. He’s the full package. Tall, handsome, amazing body. Insanely kind.” Big dick, not that that needs to be shared with the whole world. “I will say though, like, seeing him parent our daughter, how good and patient he is with her. That is immensely attractive. Him being such an amazing dad and partner. That shit is sexy. If you’re grown, you agree with me.”

“You better be grown if you’re watching this Live.” She’s not entirely wrong. Jadah then reads the next one. “What’s something most people don’t know about Roman?”

Looking over at Jadah, you ask, “do you wanna….”

Immediately, she’s shaking her head, admitting, “I don’t know him well enough to really speak on that. Like, we knew each other better in college, but obviously who we were in college is vastly different than who we are now.”

It really does stump you to hear her say that aloud, not that it upsets you, but just the mere fact that you spent so long viewing her relationship with Joe in one way, but in actuality, they were more strangers than anything. 

Strangers only bonded by loss.

“Ummm, a lot, actually.” You finally answer, trying to figure out how or even what to share. “He’s actually very quiet, like, borderline shy. At least when you first meet him. Once he warms up, you see more of his personality. But yeah, it’s fascinating how well Joe encapsulates Roman cause they’re totally different people.” You glance at Jadah, murmuring, “maybe one more.” 

This Live has gone on long enough, and you feel that you and Jadah touched on all the points you wanted and needed to address.

She nods, clearly searching for a good final one. A couple seconds later, she reads aloud. “What’s one thing you’d like to say to Roman’s fans?”

Damn. 

What a final question.

There’s a couple seconds you utilize to gather your words, wanting to articulate effectively and clearly. “That regardless of how you feel about me, please don’t let that change how you viewed him before you even found out I existed. Joe—sorry—Roman, no, fuck that. Joe is so damn passionate about what he does, his work is everything to him, and he does it like he does everything else in his life—with full passion and dedication.” Your eyes are starting to water again from unexpected emotionality. “I’m so proud of him and all he’s done and accomplished, and I know it’s just the beginning, so I’d love for you to continue to support him on his journey.”

“Damn.” Jadah mumbles after a minute of silence. “That was deep. We need another song—”

“Jadah, I swear to God, if you play one more song—”

“You’re going to like this one!”

“I think we’re just about finished anyway.” It’s not a think. It’s a know. Callie’s been gone long enough. You miss your baby. “What—”

Roman’s theme song plays louder than the previous songs Jadah played, and a smile is instantly on your face. “Okay, you were right.” The two of you vibe for a minute, because your man’s song really is an actual vibe.

“Alright,” Jadah laughs. “You all have been a wonderful crowd now, but we’re hungry, so we’re gonna go eat—what are you thinking?”

“Hmmm, maybe Chinese?”

“Good call.” She then focuses on the screen again. “We’re gonna go pig out, listen to some more amazing music and….yeah.” Jadah grabs you and pulls you right next to her, so you can say something too.

“Thank you for listening to our side, the truth, and please be kind. To everyone. Not just the people you know.”

“And don’t forget to send in your applications for—”

“Jadah!”

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℒℯ𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝒽ℯ𝓇 𝒶𝓁ℴ𝓃ℯ

warnings: angst and fluff, Rafe is an asshole. This can be platonic or not ! reader is also just as chaotic as jj. dare I say they match each others freaks.

“Well, here are the hors d’oeuvres right here.” He pointed to a table.

“Okay.”

“We’ll be right back, okay?” You told them with a smile, grabbing onto JJ’s arm, suddenly feeling cornered by the three boys in front of you.

“No, we’re actually gonna follow you in here just to make sure…” Rafe started.

JJ grabbed your arm this time, he ran inside, shoving the doors in their faces, you all interrupting the kooks dining by running into chairs and shit.

They were behind you, JJs grip never letting go of your arm. You let out a cry when you tripped and fell over a plant, jj looking down at you and quickly helping you back up, despite them being right behind you both.

You both ran into a room, jj sighing in relief, thinking you both finally got away.

“Are you alright?” He asked you, his hand on your arm. You nodded, seeing some doors and nodding your head towards them.

“Ah, excuse me, guys.” JJ knocked on the door rapidly.

“I’m taking a shit!” The man yelled. Jj went to the next on, trying to open one, both being locked. He groaned in annoyance and you turned a corner, but Rafe was already walking towards you.

You backed up, hitting JJs chest. He wrapped an arm protectively around you and scowled at the boys in front of him.

“Hey, what you doing in the locker room?”

You both tried to get away, but you were suddenly grabbed by your arms, JJ being shoved onto the ground.

“Cute outfit.” JJ remarked before falling onto the ground.

“Shut up!” Rafe rolled his eyes, Jj glanced over at you being held tightly on your arms.

“Leave her alone.” He told Rafe, Rafe laughing and shaking his head.

“Afraid I can’t do that, bro.”

JJ was put into a chokehold while Rafe stands in front of him. “Hold them still. What- what do you think? A four iron, right? Alright, keep his head still, I’m gonna line this up.” Rafe pretended to hold a gulf club in his hands.

“Very Rafe of you. Five on two?”

“If you could please stop talking? It’s very disrespectful, I’m trying to hit a ball, right?”

JJ struggled against the man who held him in the chokehold, you scratching the men who held you in place.

“Fuck you.” You spat out to Rafe, his eyebrows raising.

“Wow! Lotta talk for a little lady like yourself.” Rafe chuckled, amused.

“Let us go!” You cried out, fingernails clawing at the man who held you. The man didn’t say anything, Rafe turned to look at you with raised eyebrows, ignoring you and just laughing in your face.

Rare leaning down to JJs level, smiling at the struggling boy in front of him.

“Your face looks really bad. Starting to look like your dad a lot more.”

JJ spit in his face.

“All right. It was-“ Rafe stepped back, the lights being turned on and off, a voice interrupted Rafe.

“Gentlemen!” You and JJ were shoved away, pretending to look innocent. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh! Pardon us, officer. No, there’s not an issue. You know we- we just-“ JJ spluttered. “Actually, yes. No, there is an issue. Uh, we got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep! Call it in, right?”

“Blatant disrespect for private property.” You chimed in. “Terrible, real criminal shit.”

“Yeah.” Rafe nodded.

“We’re in violation of all kinds of shit, sir. But these.. young gentlemen…” JJ touched the collar of the boys shirt, his hand being pushed away.

“Don’t touch my shit.”

“They caught us, sir, and they were just about to take us away. Ain’t that right, boys? And that’s what you should do. Escort us out of here. Ya got us.” You and JJ held your wrists out in front of you, you both being dragged away by the guard.

“Oh, fix that tie son.”’ JJ turned over his shoulder. “You’re lookin’ spiffy, too. You powerpuff girls have fun.”

“Yo, y/n, you look pretty hot for a pogue!” You turned around, looking at the boys in disgust, but JJ was quicker to act. JJ threw the guard off him, you watching in shock as Jj attempted to attack him, but got pulled away while you followed behind, eyes wide.

“You think I’m afraid of you? Come on! Say that shit again!” JJ spat, being turned around by the guard, you glancing behind you.

When the guard was busy, you stormed up to them, none of them willing to stop a girl. They underestimated you.

You stood in front of Rafe, all of them waiting for something. You slapped him in the face, he laughed quietly, and then you punched him square in the jaw, all of the boys being in shock, the others pulling you away.

“Don’t even come near the cut, or you’ll be real fucking sorry!” You shouted as you were dragged out, being pulled outside along with Jj.

“I really appreciate what you did out there, let me just walk out by myself-“ JJ spoke, being cut off when you were shoved to the ground next to him. JJ’s eyes widened, attempting to held pull you back up.

“Hey, shove off, man!” JJ shouted at the guard who kept trying to push him away. You looked down at the bruises forming on your arms, getting up to follow JJ.

“You rough him up?” He asked you with raised eyebrows.

“Not really.” You said with a small pout. “I tried. Got to punch him in the jaw.”

“Hey, that’s my girl!” He spoke, holding his hand out for a high five, you shrugging and raising your hand up. He grabbed two drinks from a table, giving you one and downing the other.

“Aah! Whoo!” JJ exclaimed. “I really appreciate the discretion.” JJ told the guard, finally being able to walk freely for moment without being shoved. All eyes were on the both of you now.

“It’s okay, everybody! Don’t panic!” He shouted.

“Hey, leave it to the men and women in uniforms let’s hear it for them.” You clapped your hands, both of you being pushed away by the guards again. “Rose! You look like lady liberty with those spikes.” You put your fingers on top your head, resembling spikes coming out. “Very cool stuff.”

“Oh, give me one of those.” He pointed.

“Let go of them!” Kiara shouted to the guard, everyone turning to her now. “You can’t boot him! I invited them here!”

“Kiara-“ her mom attempted to get her to quiet down.

Jj shoved the guard away when he grabbed you with force. “Oh, sorry about that. Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie! Pope, you as well, all right?” He told her. “Rixons cove. Let’s roll. All right, Kie, come on!” He clapped his hands.

“Workers of the world unite.” You clapped with him. “You know, throw off your chains!” You shouted, both you and Jj walking away with drunken giggles.

“Whoo-hoo!” JJ exclaimed to John B. “Colonel.”

“Captain.” He saluted.

“Mission accomplished, sir.”

“Come on, Kie!” You shouted. “Whoo, hey pope!” All of you laughing as you ran away from the party.

—

“You know, you trying to fight them for me is very noble of you.” You told him later, both of you sitting next to each other, the fire crackling behind you.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused until he remembered. “Oh. That…”

“Very sweet.” You shrugged.

He shrugged his shoulders, giving you a small smile. “I ain’t letting no one, especially not Rafe and his fuckin’ gooners talk about you like that.”

[pastel-greene]

The Daughter | king!sukuna x curse user!reader

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Summary: The mother of curses happens upon a blind child and decides to impart a portion of her power to them as an experiment of sorts. The power morphs the child in their image until they are part curse and part human. So what happens when they get employed by the King of Curses? Will humanity bloom as newfound emotions flow between the two? Or will they usher in an era of never ending terror?

Notes: not all of this will be canon, it will be loosely based off of the jjk universe :) taglist is open, comment on any chapter to be tagged in future ones

Genre: female reader, fluff, angst, ‘loads’ of smut, violence, sukuna true form but like not with the weird face lmao just double set of eyes and arms, dark reader

Warnings: profanity, explicit smut (two dick sukuna, sadistic sex, biting, oral m & f receiving, pet names, more to be added), violence, depictions of gore, dark minds cause yk, mentions of rape, toxic relationships, chaotic neutral reader, trauma, possessiveness from reader and sukuna, torture, vampire themes (reader’s blood is infused with the Mother of curses so if a curse user is to drink it it basically gives them a temporary stat boost bc what can i say vampire sukuna seems hot), and more to be added as story progresses

Word count: 1.4k

This work contains mature content, so absolutely no minors I will block you if I find out :)

The battlefield roars around her as she lets out a feral laugh. The scent of blood bathes her skin as enemies around her burst at their seams as if allergic to their own viscera. Her power curls around her in dark tendrils, shadowy mist traveling from her feet and from it monstrosities spawn. From her being they are born, from her existence cursed energy sprawls damning the world. Humans and socerers alike flood to exterminate her like the blight she is, but their hatred and fear only makes her stronger. Their infected emotions only allow her entry into their minds, allow her new hosts for her children. With each minute, more and more of them succumb to the sickness and from their corpses new curses rise and fight. She is the unending threat, the undying plague, the Mother of Curses.

This was her life for an uncountable number of millenia for her existence started with the creation of light, for light could not exist with darkness. A life full of death, misery, and sadistic pleasure. That was until, she fell in love with a human. Not in a romantic sense, but in a maternal sense. It happened after a particularly interesting battle with a man donning white hair and crystal blue eyes. His technique and mastery over cursed energy was a sight she never expected. It left her more wounded than she had ever been. Of course, she wouldn’t die from it, but it still hurt like hell. So she found herself stumbling across the snowy expanse and upon a run down hut. It was warm and smelled of a hearty soup begging to calm her ailments. She approached the hut with little trepidation and swung the door open ready to evict whoever was inside, but she didn’t see anyone. She stepped further in and looked around but the place was empty. A trap perhaps? She thought. But where is the trapper? Is the food meant to lure victims in only to poison them? She again stepped further into the abode, further towards the food, but she sensed a presence. It seemed to lurch from nowhere straight towards her. She turned quicker than the being could register and grabbed them by the collar of their shirt and held them up.

“Let me go you you thieving piece of shit before I strangle you with your own damn innards, add you to the fucking stew, and drink it through your hollowed out eye sockets!”

….before you what? The mother of curses had never heard such a threat to her. Never heard something as unhinged and quite frankly gross as that, especially from what seemed to be a child. Yes, a child it was, one with white hair and eyes to match.

”What are you fucking deaf? Unhand me and get the fuck out!”

The Mother of Curses started laughing as she moved her hand to grab the child by the jaw, her shadows unarming the girl of the knife she thrashed throughout the air. Defiance sat on the child's face as she spat right on the Mother. Ohhh you are so fucking close to dying. You think being made into stew is bad? Just you fucking wait. I will show you the true reaches of pain. Up came the Mother’s free hand to wipe the spit off of her face before using the girl’s hair to dry it off. Then went her finger into the girl’s skull. A strangled scream ripped from her and she writhed in plea of escape.

Within her mind was vile. Her memories were dark scapes filled with throat wrenching smells and unknown touches. Her fear of being touched without being able to see stained each and every rotten corner of her mind. But as the Mother dug deeper, she could make out silhouettes, each with a different feeling. The child had learned to feel people’s energy and had used that to navigate.

That must be how she sensed me coming. And knowing she can sense other’s energies means that she can probably sense her own. Which would explain why I didn’t sense her at first because she has most likely learned to mute her presence altogether. Cheeky little assassin, yeah?

In her memories the Mother feels and smells a very familiar substance—blood. She pulls herself towards the memory drenched in it. A memory of the girl’s first kill. It starts with screams and sobs overpowered by hungry laughs and hands. It wasn’t the first time the girl had been in this predicament, but this time is what changed her. Something in her snapped and all of the beauty made by the Mother herself started pouring into the girl. Strength she hadn’t known before surged through her body and before she knew it her hands were slicing through people like butter. Now it was her hungry laugh drowning out their screams and sobs. Some pleaded which only earned them an audience with her teeth as a wicked smile pulled back her lips to introduce them. Into flesh they sank, blood pouring down her face and throat and dousing the room as she ripped back. A feral beast finally liberated from its cage.

The Mother had originally intended to pump her with cursed energy until she popped, but another idea came into her head. She decided to add onto the cursed energy the girl already possessed but not to kill her. To enhance her. To make her a spawn of the Mother of curses in human form. Her proven survival instinct and bloodlust were promising aspects for a spawn and her cooking smelled decent enough that she could at least cook for her if nothing else. The girl’s writhing calmed down as she felt the power flowing into her. Everything felt as if it was exploding inside her as her very makeup was being altered. Her bones grew denser, her blood grew richer, her muscles grew stronger, her hair grew darker until only a section of the light remained, and within her eyes bloomed irises of blood.

The Mother withdrew her finger and released the girl to collapse on the floor as she headed towards a pile of blankets in the corner. Her state haggard after parting with energy after being in such a state already. The girl sat there on her knees looking at her hands.

”You are going to overcook the soup. Hurry and serve it already,” she said whilst stretching out her legs under the small covers.

The girl looked back towards her, finally seeing the mask that hid the bone chilling aura she felt. She stared for a long minute before getting up and pouring the woman a bowl of her soup. She continued to stare at many things as she ate, things she had never seen before. It was beautiful. She would have cried if her intruder was not still present.

From that day on, the Mother stayed in that little run down abode with the girl. Teaching her how to use her new body, showing her the secrets to her ever growing powers. It was something the Mother never saw herself doing, but an experiment that had her shaking with anticipation. She had started to consider what it would be like to withdraw to her domain and leave her spawn behind to rule. She wanted to see the chaos that would ensue without her, wanted to see what curses would be born from a human with her powers. Someone with a different mind, someone hardwired differently. She knew her curses would always be stronger, but would hers be more adaptable? The Mother knew nature would create stronger sorcerers like that white haired prick, so she knew curses would need to evolve as well. They needed to possess intelligence as well as strength, needed to be able to amass followings behind them.

For this to happen, the Mother kicked the girl out of her own house 10 years after their meeting and out into the world on her 18th birthday. Most children would have screamed and cried, but she was excited. She knew from the past how to get by and figured if she could do it blind and basically powerless, that it would be exponentially easier now. She bowed to her Mother as they laid their hands on her.

“Show me you are worthy of my blessings. Make the heaven’s weep at your monstrosities and the realm beg for your pardon. Make me proud or take this dagger and bury it in your heart,” the Mother said with her usual smile as she unveiled her final present to the girl. The girl looked at the gift in awe as she took it into her hands.

“Don’t worry Mother, I will make you prouder than you can ever imagine.”

Notes: ahh hehe my writing is so rusty but I am really excited to write this idea. Updates should be (relatively?) frequent and I am determined to finish it lol. The following chapters will be told in first-person with (Y/N) tags. Canon in this story is that the reader has mostly black hair with only a small white section left and their irises are blood red. Going forward though I will use (h/c) and (e/c) so that it can suite whatever you want for your reading purposes. I hope you all have a wonderful day, see you in the next one muahhh~

[morgana-ren]

Has your opinion/understanding on Astarion's character changed much as you play through the full game?

Actually, yes! Big spoilers again btw.

So, I will admit, my perception of characters is always slightly biased. It's always tilted in favor of my own predilections and desires, so I tend to see things in a skewed way. The less information I am presented, the more my brain will fill in the gaps thusly.

In the early access, Astarion is presented as a selfish vampire spawn clawing for his own survival from the vicious vampire lord that spawned him and has held him captive for centuries. It should be noted that he is one of the only companions open to the idea of abusing the tadpoles rather than removing them and only seeks to cure them if they cannot be controlled. It becomes apparent that he craves power above all else. He dislikes altruistic speech options, tends to veer directly towards ones that bolster said power, especially at the expense of other people. He seems the closest to a stereotypical 'chaotic' follower that you really get.

However, he isn't evil. He's a very rounded character despite his inherent selfishness. He is manipulative and vicious, but he is also desperate and afraid and slow to trust. Most of what he does, he does for his own survival and comfort rather than active malevolence-- though that isn't always the case.

You get an alright idea of him in the early access, as in enough to know if you're going to want to keep him around and invest time into him as opposed to just dropping him at camp perpetually. You catch glimpses of the man he is behind it all, but mostly he appears flamboyant, resourceful, flirtatious, and of extremely dubious morality. Fun, right?

Very, very wrong, actually.

As you progress through the game, you come to understand him better, and it's... tragic.

The first thing to slip is his explosive temper. He is confused, bitter, and frightened. He expects Cazador around every corner, stalking in every shadow, watching and waiting to sling the collar around his neck and yank once more. Paranoid. He has mystery scars painstakingly carved into his flesh that he cannot see because of his condition, in a language he cannot read, with horrible memories he doesn't want to recall. He is angry, and he isn't in the company of people he trusts even remotely at first and literally cannot remember the last time he was in centuries. He bottles up all those emotions to avoid the devastating vulnerability of showing emotion and shoves them down beneath his posh and nonchalant facade, and eventually, it finds a way out.

Occasionally, he snaps. He becomes enraged and has these moments of intense anger.

And then, there is what you might think to be a moment of connection.

Astarion, once he decides that he approves of you, will make a move to seduce you. Should you accept, you might find that he says something along the lines of "Isn't that why you came? To lose yourself in me?"

It seems like typical seduction dialogue at first, but this is very deliberate. The wording is very deliberate as is everything he does. Like a choreographed waltz that he has danced again and again and again--

Until it comes as natural as breathing.

After your night together, he evades a conversation that would take anything any further. No relationship, no nothing. Just a one off that turns you into the equivalent of ye olde fuckbuddies. He stays by your side, of course, but nothing changes between you other than him acknowledging what happened.

So, you progress a little more.

Eventually, both through necessity and happenstance, he does end up opening up little by little. And you find out bits and pieces about him. But there's one that stands out to me:

The crazy blood bitch in Moonrise dehumanizes him, speaks down to him, and refuses to even acknowledge his personhood. She only speaks to you, and makes you an offer regarding your 'property.' An invaluable potion for a moment with 'your pet vampire spawn.'

And he has a visceral reaction to this.

If you have a fucking heart and you don't make him do this, he comes to speak to you later and confides in you. Cazador had used him essentially as a honeypot, forcing him to use his body to lure unsuspecting citizens back to the vampire's den-- against his will. He was so degraded, so dehumanized, and so looked down on for so many years that he has genuinely come to believe that it's the truth. He thanks you genuinely for considering him and viewing him as a real person with emotions and feelings, but is also... confused. He doesn't understand, because that rotten, stagnant belief is still a truth to him: That he is nothing but a tool and a means to an end; that he doesn't matter. That he is a filthy thing to be used and cast aside when convenient. He doesn't understand why you didn't make him do it when it was only his comfort on the line.

And if you ask him to drink from her, he will. He stiffens his upper lip and drinks despite the fact that something is wrong and he knows it. He does it because you command him to. Because that's what he has done for so long that you don't have to have the lord's control over him anymore for him to follow orders.

There is a moment of stark, dreadful realization that sex and seduction have an entirely different meaning to him but he has still been doing it. That the love and connection that he truly needs might be support and a friend and not a bedfellow. That his agency and personhood have been stripped away for so long that he doesn't even recognize them anymore. He is bitter and mean but vulnerable and confused and terrified and he doesn't know how to seek comfort, so he resorts to what he knows while simultaneously distancing and degrading himself.

He does not believe that he is worth loving or caring for, or anything but being an object to be molded. Used. Discarded. He suffered for so long that this is a fundamental truth to him. He is a monster. A filthy vermin barely a step above the rats he's been fed.

You do what you should do: You give him the power. You try to build him back up. Try to help him understand that he isn't a monster or a tool. He is a man; he is a person, and he deserves a say in his own fate. His wants and desires matter. What he wants matters.

If you've done things right, he will take a gigantic leap of faith. He will be with you-- truly be with you. It's slow and he doesn't understand, but he knows he wants it, and you take it as slow as he needs-- but he's still hurt. He is still scarred.

In the Sharess Caress, there are a pair of Drow twins that will attempt to seduce you into what is essentially a foursome. If Astarion is there and he is a love interest and you attempt this, he will say "I'm really not ready for this." while looking extraordinarily uncomfortable, and almost panicked. The scars are still there, and they're barely healing over, and still so, so tender. Easy to tear right back open. Easy to push back into his shell to never come out again, because he tried vulnerability and it burned him.

He does not think he is worthy of love or happiness. He doesn't get to have a loving partner who adores him. Even slipped free of Cazador's yoke, his claws are still stuck steadfast in his soul. He is taking it slow and barely learning to trust another being again, leave alone put his neck out and care for one. He wears his misery as a shield because it cannot hurt him that way. He is a monster who has done horrible things and deserves to be alone forever. And even if that isn't the truth, then Cazador is still lurking out there, waiting to strike-- to rip away that newfound happiness.

Astarion is, above all things, a truly tragic character, and one that I empathize with. It makes my adoration for him slightly guilty. I'm not all the way through the game quite yet, but what I have seen hurts my heart something dreadful. With my character, he is slowly learning to trust and love again, but it's painfully apparent that he thinks he doesn't deserve this, and he is simply waiting for something to fall apart and send him back into the spiraling black chasm that is his life. He still believes all these miserable things about himself. He was forced into immortality, and he believes he's going to spend it alone, reviled, and wretched - not to mention enslaved.

As fun as it is to have a sexy, dark, controlling Astarion, I don't think it's necessarily true to his character as he is presented if you choose to do things right. He isn't evil - he is a complex, tragic man who desperately needs to be able to see his own reflection in a way that isn't horrifically warped by everyone else's eyes.

Vampire. Monster. Killer. Slave. Pet.

It's been so long he's lost track of himself. Of Astarion the man.

He needs to find himself and find peace. He asks to view himself through your eyes, maybe because he's looking for something-- anything-- within himself to hold onto.

If you ask me again in a few days, I'll probably have a fully fleshed out idea of his character, since I'll probably have completed the game or at the very least gotten a bit further, but this is what I have at the moment. Doesn't mean I'll stop writing Astarion as I adore, but I've always openly admitted that my writings on characters are skewed despite their actual content lmao.

[obzessed]

HP characters : powerpoint presentation headcanon

This is so random but here is how I imagine marauders' era characters doing a powerpoint presentation

The Marauders

Do over the top presentations, (down to using costumes, yes) would make the wildest powerpoint (too many colors because they can’t agree on anything)

They make it really fun and entertaining tho

use the airplane (flying broom ??) transition, except the airplane is on fire for some reason

indian drama level of presentation

Will Not stop giggling and interrupting each other

Jocks in middle school vibe, but they’re actually really smart

here to clown and have a laugh

generally get a high grade but get points deducted for clarity and taking too damn long

Severus Snape (+bonus Lily Evans)

In a solo presentation, Severus would make perfect, pristine presentation

King of bullet points

University standards powerpoints

only uses peer reviewed articles

always criticizes said peer reviewed articles

Never uses notes, but doesn't look the audience in the eyes ever

Doesn't look at the audience period

He's not shy, he doesn't even do it consciously

Extremely complicated subjects, Will Not Dumb It Down For You

If anyone has a question, will look at them as if they’re the biggest idiot in the room

The type to explain by simply reformulating what he just said

If they still don’t understand either sighs dramatically and moves on, or sighs dramatically and start drawing on the board, speaking veeeryyyyy slowly, you let me know where I lost you idiot fellow classmate

Actually explains really well when he puts in some effort, has this clean cut way of decomposing each problem and detailing each point, then tying it all back together that makes it really easy to follow

writing on the board and drawing legitimately helps him lay out his thought process

the condescension is just a plus

Type of presentation that is objectively very good and interesting and well thought out but like. no one cares. bring back the airplane transitions.

For a few people sufficiently advanced and interested and who actually understand what he’s talking about, (and who are not rebuked by his style and general attitude), it’s a v good presentation

Positive : Always adds something new and generally brings really pertinent arguments, genuinely passionate about what he’s talking about

Teachers pick up on his fast out of the box thinking and surprising creativity

his powerpoint design is a little depresso, no colors except to highlight important words

very minimalist and to the point

Regulus argues every point of his presentation

Academic rivals to lovers frfr

Gets point deducted for his attitude and his “lack of enthusiasm”

NOW Severus + Lily = best of both worlds, get an O everytime

Lily always insists on using canva (their pwp designs are so cute)

overall they balance each other really well

I feel like Lily would get a little giggly if she fumbles

The marauders would def shout “boring” and giggle like middleschoolers at the back of the class during Snape's presentation

Snape's ability to remain unfazed in the face of bs stems from there

God help them all if they get paired up for a presentation

Marauders + Severus

Snape would have to settle for at least one airplane transition

It would become a war of adding and deleting each other's progress on the pwp design

they split it in two but they try to gain terrain on the other's part like in Clash of Clan

They are at WAR

“I am a commander in battle and your slides are but a village on a map” James Potter

“Fuck you” Severus Snape

“Go jump off an airplane if you like them so much”

Somehow the presentation is even more chaotic than the previous one

passive aggressively asks the other to click on the next slide

always takes the other's question just as they're about to speak

If Snape sees a single one of them look at their notes for too long it's on sight (RIP Pettigrew)

Bc Fuck if he's gonna lose points over this

best or worst grade

lots of brain cells

Teacher tried to make the braincells hold hands but the brain cells are Enemies

[xxgothchatonxx]

I've loved Sam Reid's performance as Lestat from the start of the show but this right here:

I think this might be my favourite scene of his.

Because there's a common misconception that since Lestat is so carefree and chaotic, that he doesn't care. That's something that a lot of "inspired by Lestat" characters don't seem to get. They think "ok wild Bad Boy vampire who only cares about things when it's relevant to the plot" but the fact (of fiction) is that Lestat does care. He cares very deeply. Yes, he did hurt Claudia and Louis. But that doesn't mean he never loved them. Obviously doesn't excuse what he did, but he knows that. He'll carry that guilt with him forever.

The scene starts off with him being very much how we've come to know Lestat. Making jokes, being quirky, etc. But what I've loved about Sam's performance is that there's always been an element of authenticity to that persona. So getting to see him be this broken and vulnerable felt like a natural progression of that performance and a satisfying 'conclusion' to how Lestat's character has been portrayed so far.

I'm glad that Sam Reid was able to have this moment as Lestat. And I hope we get to see more of this going forward.

[creatingblackcharacters]

I want to submit my favorite Star Trek character, Captain Michael Burnham.

She's the franchise's first Black female lead and the first Black female lead captain, played masterfully by Sonequa Martin-Green.

Michael is highly intelligent, brave, creative, loves hard, a true collaborative leader, determined, compassionate, tenacious, willing to break the rules, and reaches for the best in people. I like to call her the Queen of Chaotic Ingenuity. And she can kick yo ass if need be. She is actually funny but I think a lot of people miss it.

She's a poster child for "Listen to Black Women" cause had Starfleet done that in the first 2 episodes, they likely would have avoided that war with the Klingons, but I digress...

What I've enjoyed most about watching this character is seeing a Black woman who loves science be great (she's a xenoanthropologist), be the hero, and be allowed to evolve as a character. When we met her in season 1, we met a person that was struggling with embracing her human emotions as a major byproduct of having to assimilate into Vulcan culture while still being rejected by that culture because of her race. But as seasons 1 and 2 unfold, she starts breaking out of that shell and learns to embrace her emotions and herself and faces the demons from her childhood. Honestly, I love that she's The Hero, but she's also allowed to express the full range of her emotions, which is something not always given to Black female characters. She's allowed to be vulnerable. Also, I love that she's given grace to grow as a character. Put simply, Michael Burnham is one of the realest characters in Star Trek.

Once we're in season 3, and after some much needed time away from everyone (and plenty of time spent with a FINE brotha named Cleveland Booker, who deserves his own submission), Michael fully embraces herself, and as the story progresses, we see her FINALLY become captain, a role she was made for.

I love her leadership style as a captain. She's the ideal collaborative leader. Yes, she's the captain that's going on an away mission. However, she's also created a culture on her ship where her crew is comfortable with voicing their ideas, trying innovative ways to solve problems, and she genuinely listens to them. She seeks to connect with each person on her crew and those she comes in contact with on missions. She's a master at thinking outside the box. She's a thinker who leads with her heart.

Another aspect of this show that I appreciate is Michael wearing braids. The more we see Michael embracing herself, the more she wears natural Black hairstyles. When she's the most at peace with herself, she's rocking braids.

I think this it is very significant to have a Starfleet captain that wears braids, when we're living in a time where the Crown Act has to be a created to protect us from people's bigotry against natural Black hairstyles in professional and non professional spaces.

Yes, my captain is black, she wears braids, and she still does her job exemplary, with style and grace.

In closing, I just love Michael Burnham, and I hope some of you give Star Trek Discovery a try to get to know, and hopefully, love her too.

Last but not least, I love that her central romance is with another Black character. It's so rare to get Black Love in sci-fi, and they, Michael and Book, are a well written relationship.

Ngl, you typed "brotha" and I had to click out and go check your page 😤 we back! "Listen to Black women" lmao now you know people don't do that! Gotta go through hard knocks first 🤣 She's the science leader I aspire to be, it sounds like 🥹🥹 I too believe in collaborative leadership. Her braids! Yes I do love her braids, I love seeing our styles on us. It's why I keep pushing away from flat ironed hair. There's nothing wrong with it, I just... We have so many other options. I really want us to take a shot at it. And hot DAMN he sure IS fine 😳😳😳 I wasn't ready! WHEW! Michael is living it up fr.

Thank you for this submission!

[starbright349]

hiyyaa! Howdy! Can u do a request of hazbin hotel x Nezuko!overlord!reader like she looks innocent but is a blood craving demon like everyone would first see her true form during the extermination day like her head was slashed off but it healed reconnected (in demon slayer) like Adam now not knowing how to kill the reader like she heals instantly any wounds and she is merciless in her true form taking down hordes of exterminators at once without one scratch as she smiles sinisterly like everyone is shocked to see her full form even the v’s are shocked cause they always known the reader as a innocent soul who somehow managed to get to hell

thanks! If u don't feel ok with this request u can decline it's ur choice! bye!✌️

OMG! I was about to think of something like this, but you just made it better! Keep in mind, I normally don't watch Anime, so I hope you will still like it.

(Y/N) ...That was the name that almost every single being in Hell was afraid of. She had the appearance of Nezuko. She was quite attractive and had a pretty bubbly personality. She was an overlord on the west-side of Hell, owning almost all of the toy-demons, (Yes those are in Hell, I checked) most of them were stuffed animals, but others were toy ballerinas or raggedy Ann/Andy looking creatures. And they were scared to death of (Y/N).

She owned almost all of them, they all sold their souls to her yet (Y/N) had nothing to offer. She didn't have any powers like Alastor, she wasn't strong like Carmilla Carmine, and she wasn't rich like the three V's.

The reason why they were so scared of her and why they sold their souls, was their own safety. (Y/N) had a very un-healthy since for bloodlust and would often jump out and eat other demons, even if she wasn't hungry. It didn't matter to her who or what she was eating, as long her needs were satisfied.

Some of the other overlords, like Zestial. Suggested that they make (Y/N) a special mouthpiece for her chew on so no more of the souls that they owned would go missing.

Why didn't they just kill her? You may be asking. Well, it's because she can't die. Even with Angelic weapons from Carmilla Carmine. Whenever she would get hurt or have something cut off from her body, it would instantly regenerate and grow back.

So, giving her something to chew on was the next best thing to do.

It had taken all of Zestial and Carmilla's strength, to make (Y/N) wear the mouthpiece since she had refused multiple times. After getting it locked into her jaw, she became less dangerous, and the secret about her 'unique ability' stayed hidden by Zestial and Carmilla. But the other toy-demons weren't any less scared of her.

One day, she had gotten word about the 'Hazbin Hotel' by one of her little dolls. Created by Lucifer's only daughter, Charlotte Morningstar. The idea of the Hotel was to redeem sinners, so they could leave Hell to avoid the exterminations.

Almost like a permanent rehab thing.

(Y/N) became interested in this, little project of the young Morningstar, and wanted to help, maybe even find a chance of getting into Heaven. Of course, she thought that redemption was impossible, but she had to take whatever she could get to escape this place once and for all. What she didn't know was that Alastor was also there. They never had the best history together and would often fight over food.

But regardless. They tried to get along.

The residents of the Hotel were accustomed to her sweet demeanor, unaware of the demonic force that lay dormant within her.

(Y/N) did her best to try and redeem herself, and in Charlie's eyes, she was making the best progress out of anyone in the Hotel.

But soon, when Charlie had to go to a meeting set in Heaven, it didn't go well, and she announce that the Angel's would be coming to the Hotel first.

The annual Extermination Day had arrived in the chaotic realm of Hell. Demons and exterminators clashed in a frenzied battle for supremacy. Among the chaos, the Hazbin Hotel stood as a curious haven for those seeking redemption, or at least a break from the relentless combat outside.

In the midst of the turmoil, a mysterious figure emerged from the shadows. (Y/N), adorned in innocent attire, her demeanor seemingly pure. The denizens of Hell, including Charlie, Alastor, and the rest of the Hazbin Hotel staff, regarded her as an anomaly—a seemingly innocent soul in a realm of the damned.

As the exterminators closed in, their weapons drawn, (Y/N)'s true form manifested. With a swift, clean slash, her head was severed from her body. Gasps of shock echoed through the battlefield as her head tumbled to the ground, only to be followed by a collective gasp as it seamlessly reconnected, healing instantly.

Adam, the head of the extermination squad, stared in bewilderment. "What in the hell...?" he muttered, unsure of how to confront a foe that defied conventional methods of eradication.

The (Y/N)'s eyes glowed with a malevolent crimson as a sinister smile twisted across her face. In this true demon form, she moved with unparalleled speed and precision. Exterminators who dared to challenge her found their efforts futile, as wounds healed instantaneously.

The Hazbin Hotel crew watched in awe and disbelief as the supposedly innocent soul wreaked havoc upon the extermination forces. Vaggie, Charlie, and even the enigmatic Alastor were left speechless. This was not the (Y/N) they had known—an innocent, lost soul.

The reader danced through the battlefield, dispatching hordes of exterminators effortlessly. Her eyes met those of the other demons, who were now witnessing a side of her they never imagined existed. The Vaggy triplets were wide-eyed with shock, their usual confidence shattered.

Alastor, usually composed and calculating, observed with a glint of interest in his eyes. "Well, well, my dear. Seems there's more to you than meets the eye," he remarked with a sly grin.

As Extermination Day continued, the Hazbin Hotel staff found themselves in an unexpected alliance with a blood-craving, merciless demon. (Y/N), in her true form, became an unstoppable force, leaving a trail of astonished demons and exterminators alike in her wake.

[peaky-shelby]

New Romantics | Mbappé [5]

» summary: in which an arrogant and talented football player (the best of his time as some say) and a focused and harsh critic of a journalist are gonna have to find a way to co-exist.

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» chapter 5: tears of Mascara

» writer's note: i have two things for you. Except a 10k chapter which i hope you guys won't stop reading midway. First is this playlist. Dedicated alone to this chapter. Second Is the chapter trailer below. I'll try to do these videos for every chapter bc it's kinda fun 👀👀 alsoooooo i apologize for the angst and well... The ending.

» Taglist: @moonchildohh @formulahoe @princetongirlll818 @mavieesttriste16 @kiwisa @godessstela @hummusxx @kodzuvk @pink-manz @corbyns-smile @ippid @jayruiewo265738 @blueanfield @mrs-bellingham @sorceresski @sooblovebot @okayymochi @army7g @j-rbps @heli991113 @markhyucksmells @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @i0veless @photmath @http-isabela @rainytelevisionfilmwagon @formula101x @neymarloverxxx @cepolar @freespirit-51

TRAINING CAMPUS / PRIVATEL ROOM - DAY

“So that’s two T’s for Lottin then?”

Kylian leaned in looking at her notes “Is my full name really necessary for this?”

“Think I’ll just call you little lotte from now own” she smiled and he tried to snatch the paper right from under her arm but she held it down “keep your hands away, will you?”

“You are enjoying this too much.”

“Is it that obvious?” she asked and pulled her paper closer to her, writing his name on the top. Kylian kept glancing between her and her notes, leaning back on his chair.

He wanted to get out of the room, maybe even lock her inside. He thought about it, numerous times, thinking what way would be quicker and looking around for a key. “I want this to be over as quick as you do so just answer my questions and you’ll be out of here in no time.”

Had the two started getting along after their moment at the end of the match 3 days ago? Yes, kinda. During the next couple of days neither of them tried to kill each other or provoke each other, which was progress but her presence was still a threat to him and every time he saw her whispering away with Galtier he felt a sense of annoyance in his chest. Hakimi had to poke him or hit him to get him focused on the training.

“you’re staring.” He told him one day, throwing the ball on his face. Kylian caught it right before it hit his nose and held it down “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you have a crush on her.” Kylian gave him a puzzled look.

“Tais-toi!” he said and Hakimi winked.

A crush on her? She was a stubborn, child-like girl that didn’t know when to shut up. He laughed at the thought, leaning his head back on the chair. Taylor noticed, raising her eyes at him “is there something funny I missed?”

“No.” Kylian said, shrugging his shoulders and sat straight “let’s get over with this.”

She studied him. He was obviously hiding something , she knew that smile all too well by now. The smile of a person that was thinking of ways to annoy her. But Taylor had started enjoying their banter. It wasn’t just yelling and offensive comments anymore, they teased each other regularly, almost like they were friends.

One day during the end of training, while she was sitting in her usual spot, watching over them like a hawk, Neymar took the initiative to call for her.

“Hey Taylor come see this!” he said and she looked at him confused. She was curious to know more so she made her to him. He was standing next to Ramos. Kylian and Hakimi were jogging behind them. Neymar had a ball under his foot.

“What is it?” she asked

Neymar pointed at the ball on his foot, like he wanted her to duck and take a closer look. Which she did. She was puzzled to say the least but before she could glance up at him and ask him what was going, she was being showered by the automatic water stations on the grass. She yelled, falling backwards by the surprise and the pressure. Neymar began running when she got up to chase him. She twisted the station of the source so it would target him but he ducked and instead it got on Kylian.

“Ah merde!” he yelled and looked at her, while he moved quickly away from the sprays of water, bumping on Hakimi. He looked at himself, his wet clothes and then up at her. He was pissed.

She was trying to hold in her laugh and apologize but she couldn’t hide how much pleasure she took by the accident. Kylian started coming closer to her, his dark eyes making her sweat and worry. She walked backwards, she didn’t know if he was teasing her or if he was actually mad but his glare was doing something to her. She was almost enjoying it until another station turned on automatically, this time behind her, the water hitting her on her back. She ran forward to where Kylian was but before she could pass him, he grabbed her, his arms tying around her and pulling her closer to the source as revenge. Finally laughing while she kicked her legs and tried to get away from his hold, screaming when the cold water washed her entire body. He let her down quickly in front of the source and they both sprinted away in different directions. Looking at each other while the spraying waters separated them. They were smiling in between their heavy breaths, bopping there heads. Almost like they liked one another.

Kylian had already moved on to a conversation with Hakimi when be very swiftly removed his shirt.

Taylor was still looking.

He caught it, grinning at her before moving inside the building. Giving her a wink of acknowledgment. That was her the first time she caught herself slipping.

A few moments later she rushed downstairs to the locker rooms, opened one of the closets with the spare clothes and took a sweatshirt with the PSG logo. She went to the showers and took her shirt off, using one of the towels to rub her skin and bra that was also a little wet.

“Freaking 5-year-olds-” she murmured but she was smiling.

She looked up in the mirror while rubbing her hair when she promptly saw a head peaking behind the wall. She turned around instantly, checking. Covering her breasts with her towel. But there was no one there.

She put on the sweatshirt right away, tied her hair up and left.

That little adventure was the reason why she had been sneezing all day and during the interview of course.

“Got a cold?” Kylian asked.

“Yeah, an asshole decided to have a water fight in the middle of January.”

“Ah, I’m sure he meant well”

“No-“ she sneezed “pretty sure it’s part of a big plot to get rid of me.”

Taylor began with her questions. Easy ones at first and things that he could answer with a yes or no. he preferred answering with one word, it meant he didn’t have to communicate with her too long but she started to take notice of his tactic, looking up at him.

“Do you believe your personal life influences the way you play recently?”

“No.” he said bluntly. She didn’t seem to believe him and her eyes remained on him, examining every line on his face, anything that would give away his lying. They lingered like that for a while, looking at each other, expecting for one another to say or do something.

“Do you feel like it has in the past?”

“no.” he said again. She laughed at his quick response and started writing on the paper. Kylian tried to peak and see what she was noting, whatever it was it was longer than his answer “what are you writing?”

“Your answer.”

“My answer was one word, not one paragraph.”

“was it?” she asked, her voice coming out in a high pitch.

“pute” he mumbled under his breath. “are you freestyling with these?”

“You know my high school French is not that good but I know that word you keep saying isn’t a kind one.”

“Too busy playing football in high school, right?”

“Excuse me?” she seemed worried now as she looked at him. He smiled.

“You said you learnt to play in high school, so I’m guessing you weren’t really paying attention in French. C'est une honte. J'aimerais vous entendre parler cette langue.“ [it’s a shame I’d like to hear you speak the language.]

“Excuse me?” she asked, not able to translate his last comment. He smiled because he had just found his new favorite game. “We are here to focus on you so lets not waste time on me or French lessons.”

“Why wouldn’t we? I mean I’m very interested to know where the journalist learnt to play like a pro.” He bent forward, placing his arms on the table and staring in her eyes. “Tu as eu un footballeur comme petit ami? Aimes-tu les footballeurs?” [Did you have a footballer boyfriend? Do you even like footballers?]

He was trying to make her uncomfortable and it was working. Still if there was one thing that taylor could do was hide her nerves in front of men like him. So, her eyes remained icy and her expression unbothered. “Je pense que oui. Et peut-être que tu as un petit béguin pour Marquinhos.” [I think you do. I think you might have a crush on Marquinhos]

“Enough with the french Kylian.”

“I’m trying to help you practice.”

“I’m the one asking the questions in English. So, sit back and let me finish this so I can go home.” He grinned. Her icy exterior couldn’t fool him. She’d always get nervous when asked about her past or her boss. “Are you satisfied with your performance in the last game?” she asked again.

He twisted his tongue, biting it. The two could be in a staring contest the way that they were going. He didn’t want to answer the question. She wouldn’t stop until she got an answer out of him. And yet the longer she looked in his eyes, the more the warmth in her chest would grow. He angled himself even closer, a mischievous grin on his lips “how about this. You’ll answer one of my questions, I’ll answer two of yours.”

“that’s not how interviews work. You’re just trying to avoid the question,”

“Did you play professionally?”

“Did your performance in the last game leave you satisfied?” she persisted.

“I think you did.” He whispered “mais tu n'es jamais assez bien.” [but you were never good enough] He grinned, a suggestive grin “Mais tu étais sexy dans l'uniforme, je l'admets.” [Although you did look sexy in that uniform].

Her eyes found his in surprise. That word sounded the same almost in any language. “Tu l'étais aussi dans la salle de bain..” [you did in the bathroom too] If only she knew what he had confessed. She wanted to ask what he said but that grin of his was too annoying. She knew he wanted her to ask, to continue his little game so she didn’t. She took the initiative to lean forward as well, not calculating in her mind how much closer that simple movement would bring them.

“I think it didn’t leave you satisfied. You pretty much said so to me in the roof, remember? I think it hasn’t for a while.” She said in his face. He clenched his jaw, his eyes darting from her eyes to her notes. Sometimes stopping on her lips “I think you’re scared to admit it. Γιατί είσαι δειλός.” He tried to process what language she was speaking, thought he had heard wrong. She smiled. “Two can play this game.”

“What language is that?”

“My grandmother was Greek.”

He gasped in understanding “that’s why you’re so loud all the time.”

She scrunched up her face, taking his stereotypical comment as a compliment “Can we get back to the interview please? How do you feel your personal life impacts your performance?”

“Some nights you can’t give your 100%.”

“When was the last time you gave your 100%?”

He didn’t like that question. It stunk. How did she do that? Always found the one thing to say that would get him angry, that would mess with his mind. He felt the temperature raising from his stomach to his chest while her eyes pierced through his walls and he drew back. His expression changed completely, he didn’t want to play anymore, he wanted this godforsaken interview to be over. “How long do we have left? Ney’s interview was done in 10 minutes.”

“Neymar was answering the questions in english” She answered quickly, pointing out the difference “even Verratti was more cooperative.” Kylian laughed at that, crossing his arms “true it was because he can’t stand being in the same room with me for longer than 5 minutes but at least he was talking. Now-“ she paused, her expression getting stricter “do I have to repeat myself?”. His eyes drifted away, searching for an escape. He wasn’t going to answer her.

“What did Verratti say when you asked him that?”

“I don’t have the same questions for everybody.”

Somehow that hurt even more. She kept waiting for him to speak, say anything but his lips remained closed and she decided and she knew she wasn’t getting anything out of him. Nothing like the things he told her on the roof. So what was the point? She was over it. “You know what?” she got up, piling up her papers in a folder “we are done, you can go.”

“What?” his eyes darted while she was picking up her stuff.

“I got what I need. We are good.” She gave him a fake smile and moved around the table to get to the exit. When she passed in front of him, he jumped up from his seat, pushing his chair back and grabbed her arm, pulling her to him. She crashed on his chest, looking down before looking up, realizing how close she was when she could taste his breath on her lips. Seconds later and they were still looking at each other, standing in such close proximity that they could notice all the details in each other’s faces. His hand tied like a tight bracelet around her.

All of a sudden, he forgot the reason he grabbed her in the first place because all he could think of was her undressed figure, standing in front of the mirror, the day before. He hadn’t thought about it until now that she was as close to him and he let his mind imagine what was under her clothes.

“Let go of my arm. You have 10 seconds.”

He blocked out his inappropriate thoughts.

“you said to me every time you think you are getting close, I turn into a dick. Well, every time I think I can trust you; you turn into a bitch-“

She yanked his hand away. He licked his own teeth, biting his tongue and his lips. She didn’t say anything. She simply moved away and went for the door when-

“Wait for the game with RENNES. Send whatever these are after it.”

She stopped and faced him. He was like a kid begging for a second chance in the final exam because he knew he had failed before the results were out. She knew it wouldn’t make a difference in her report if she waited. She had already decided what she would write. But a part of her wanted to believe that she’d see something better, something that would change her mind and the conclusion of her report. A part of her wanted to help him.

“Why? You’re gonna give your 100% in that game?”

“You don’t think I can?”

“I wouldn’t know Kylian.” She opened the door “I told you the day I met you. I just write what I see.” She winked and walked out. He stood alone in the private room. Rubbing the back of his head and thinking. He looked at his palm, the palm that had fit perfectly around her arm. He breathed in deeply. A part of him wishing he could be as close to her more often.

GALTIER’S OFFICE – DAY

“I think it’s unnecessary. According to Marcos, you’ve already earned their respect.” Said Galtier standing in front of the wide windows. Marcos was sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk and Taylor was standing up, trying to look as calm as she could. Even though her heart always beat a little faster when she was in the room with Galtier.

“That’s exactly why I don’t think we should tell them yet. I know I agreed for a week but things are just starting to work out and I think I should be the one to tell them the truth when it’s right. Otherwise, it will backfire” She felt like she was being examined by him with the way he was eyeing her. She held tighter on her folders and tried so her eyes wouldn’t reflect her fear.

“How long are we talking about?”

“Just a couple of days after the game with RENNES.”

“And why aren’t the reports ready yet?”

“They are” she paused “sort off. I just haven’t a complete view of every player yet and I think it would be better if you let me attend one more game before I give them to you.”

“Ms. Wilock…” he unbuttoned his suit and sat on his chair, looking over at her “it sounds to me like you came here with a bunch of excuses. This isn’t high school-“

“I understand sir-“

“I’m not sure you do. And do me a favor, do not interrupt me when I’m talking.” She felt her pride shattering and shrinking. Marquinhos glanced at her, a sympathetic look in his eyes. “I offered you this job because I thought you were up to it. I’m starting to have doubts.”

She looked at him, trying to find the right words when she realized there are none so she just went for it “Sir with all due respect-“ she made a step forward “you trusted me with a very important and heavy position, for which I’m thankful, but if you lose faith in me just because I’m not doing it your way then I don’t understand why I’m here at all” Marquinhos smiled, his eyes now glancing at Galtier who seemed to be as surprised with her as he was. “I’ve gotten closer to the team already, and I think I proved my loyalty on the previous game with that yellow card- which is not gonna happen again by the way” she raised her finger nervously, let out a laugh which she swallowed just as quickly “but the point is that when they find out the truth, if it’s not the right time and the right way, I’m gonna lose them.” Her eyes almost got warmer like she was about to cry “let me do this my way and I promise you will not regret it. They boys are broken; they don’t need another coach to yell in their face-” she glanced over at Marquinhos “they need someone to be there for them.”

He didn’t answer which only made her more nervous. She really thought the next thing she’d hear was that she was fired. Why was she risking everything like that? Who was he risking it for?

“She’s right.” Marcos said, putting a momentarily pause on her thoughts. She looked at him, surprised for his support. “They boys have began trusting her so I don’t think there will be much protest when her position is revealed. However, when they find out she is JW, it will be a tough pill to swallow for some. They will eventually get over it, and I don’t think it will be a big deal but maybe it’s best we do it after the game with RENNES so they are focused on that. To trouble them with this now will be a mistake. We can tell them before the trip and friendly match in Qatar.”

Galtier looked like he was considering it. He kept looking at both of them, pouting his lips and it looked to Taylor like it had been hours before he finally nodded and gave them both his approval. “Alright. I expect everything to be sorted before we leave for Qatar then. But that’s your final chance. You hear me?”

“Yes sir!”

“And I want those goddamn reports before then.”

“You’ll have them.” She reassured and with a nod exited the office. Before she left, she mouthed and inaudible ‘thank you’ to Marcos and he smiled back at her.

When the two men were alone, they grinned at each other. Galtier reclined on his chair “You think they’re gonna eat her alive?”

“No.” he said “On the contrary, I think she is exactly what they need. She’s already bringing the team together in her own way. She’s nervous, yes…” he laughed “but she just needs time.”

“I told you before we hired her Marcos. All she’s getting is a month.”

“And that’s enough for her, trust me. She’ll prove to you her worth before then”

“She better.”

TRAINING CAMPUS / HALLWAYS – DAY

“Taylor!” Marquinhos called for her as soon as he got out of the office. She turned around to him, let out a gasp of relief and threw herself on him, hugging him as tight as she could. He chest vibrated in laughter and his face lit up as he patted her back.

“Thank you.” She mumbled in his shirt and pulled back to look in his eyes “You’re my savior.”

He laughed “don’t worry about it.” He rubbed her head, smiling. “You got this.”

“Do I?” he tilted his head “yes, I do. Of course, I do.”

“I do have a question though.”

“What is it?”

“This morning you told me you had your last Interview with Kylian and your reports would be completed so you wanna tell me what really happened?” She couldn’t lie to him. He had that look of the good teacher you had at primary school, that was never loud but was strict in a sweet way. That wanted the best for you and knew when you were lying before you even got the chance to lie.

She sighed “Kylian asked me to delay them-“ He raised his eyebrows and she pulled her hands up to stop him from making assumptions “He doesn’t know about all this but he figured out the interviews were for something important and he asked for one more performance before you know… I sent them over to JW.”

“You really think one game is gonna make a difference to his report?”

“No…” she whined, rubbing her head “But I’m trying to get on his good side so I figured that I could give him a second chance-“

“It could have cost you your job.”

“I know. Which is why I’m not really happy about it.” She explained, her voice trailing off as she spoke “I don’t know maybe it wasn’t for him. Maybe it was for me because I know that when the truth comes out they’ll all hate me anyway.” She groaned, hit her face with her folders and held them up to hide her expression “What was I thinking?”

“Taylor. Calm down. It’s ok.” He laughed while trying to comfort her, he pushed the folders down, away from her face.

“You think they’re gonna forgive me?”

Marcos gave her a careful look. Just as before, it resembled a teacher that knew more than he was letting on “Are you referring to all of them in general or do you have someone specific in mind?” He raised his hand before she could even react to his comment “Actually I don’t want to know.”

“Just for the record it was all of them-“

“Sure. Listen, half of them never cared about the articles. It was the ones you targeted most that you’ll have to deal with. Ramos, Neymar, Verratti… Kylian.”

“That last one is gonna bury me alive.”

“You’ll be fine. Just have those reports ready after the RENNES game.”

“Yes captain!”

“Tay!” Neymar shouted her name from the other side of the hall. She looked at him, her heart getting heavy because she already knew what this was about. Marquinhos patted her on the shoulder and she smiled at him before walking over to Neymar.

“Everything alright?”

Neymar glanced at his phone, handing it over to her. She held it in her palms, reading the article that he had opened for her. It was the one she had written. She looked up at him, a bit regretful, a bit scared.

“Did you know he was going to post that?”

She wanted to say yes, she wanted to tell him the whole truth and ask for forgiveness because she knew she had hurt him. God knows how much she had struggled writing in the last couple of days about any of the boys. Instead, she shook her head, because she couldn’t handle what the truth would do to him. “I mean…” she bit on her lips, sighing “I knew he was…” she gulped “writing something about you-“

“Neymar Jr. gives another mid performance after his return from the world cup in a team he clearly doesn’t want to be in-“ she tried to stop him but he kept going. She felt like she was being repeatedly stabbed. She closed her eyes while he read her own bitter words. She realized maybe she had been too bitter and it was because she was trying to cover up how much she had come to love them personally. “that’s a lot of criticism. Your boss is a piece of work- You should have told me.”

She didn’t answer him.

“it’s not your fault, don’t look at me like that.” She wanted to cry. “Just wish you would have warned me. Maybe next time?” she nodded silently; she didn’t dare to open her mouth because she knew all that would come out were sobs. Neymar pecked her temple and left to go back to his training.

She stood frozen where she was. She could feel waves rising on her chest, ready to drown her. There was havoc in her mind. Galtier’s warnings. Marquinhos words. Neymar’s eyes. Kylian’s touch. The happy memories she had so far mixed with the regret of poisoning them with lies. And all for what? Just to shut Kylian up the first time she met him. Blaming him was easy, it was almost an automatic defensive response. She searched or the nearest exit, storming out of the building and gasping for air.

TRAINING CAMPUS / FRONT ENTRANCE – AFTERNOON

Kylian saw Taylor sitting on the sidewalk just outside the exit of the building. He contemplated talking to her or letting her be.

“Waiting for an uber again?” he asked and she twisted her body to be able to see him. She turned back to her previous position without saying anything. “You never learnt how to drive?” he tried to make a joke, he sat next to her but she moved slightly away from him, sighing.

“Not everyone has the money for cars. Check your privileges.” She murmured.

“Are you ok?” Kylian searched for her eyes, tilting his head. She turned her face the other way, as far away from his as she could. “Taylor!”

“I’m fine!” she snapped, turning her gaze to him. He was baffled by her response. Still a smirk appeared slowly on his face, she wanted to slap it right of him.

“JW giving you a hard time?”

“Goddman it Kylian. What do you want? Hm? What do you want to hear?” She snapped, her eyes burning with a devilish kind of fire.

He observed her face. Her tired eyes, the circles under them. Her lips were dry- why am I looking at her lips? He looked at her neck instead just for a few second before the picture of her half naked figure flashed before his eyes again. He looked back at her eyes and shrugged “nothing.”

“Then leave, can you?”

He bit the corner of his mouth while her eyes lingered on him with anger. He had no reason to stay. He got up, pulling his backpack over his shoulder and walking to his car. He stopped midway. Looked back at her. She seemed… vulnerable. He didn’t think the woman was capable of that but apparently she was as human as the rest of them. There were two voices in his head. One of them wanted to help, genuinely. The other wanted to take advantage of it and sounded more like Verratti. He decided to listen to both.

“do you want a ride home?” She raised her head. Disbelief all over her face. She probably thought he was making a joke. So, he continued “Pretty sure you’ve wasted more money on ubers than food ever since you got here. It’s on my way anyway, so might as well.” She didn’t answer him, which was driving him insane. He spread his hands, awaiting for an answer.

She got up, walked over to him. “if you kill me, Luna will die of hunger and that cat’s death will be on you.” She said, passing him. He stood still for a few minutes, laughing. Yep, there she was back at it.

“When the party’s over” by Billie eilish echoed in the car. The music was low enough to hear the raindrops as they tapped on the window and the top of the car but loud enough to allow both of them to get carried away by the melody and avoid conversation at first. He kept glancing at her, she had her head laid by the window, so he couldn’t really see anything except the back of her neck. He didn’t have to be in her head to know that she was lost in her thoughts. He could sense it in the silence and he was pretty sure she had her eyes closed for most of the ride. He reached to turn of the music, that’s when he got a reaction out of her.

“Don’t” she said, holding his hand. He looked directly at her, for a second forgetting he was driving until she moved her cold hand away. He looked back at the street, focusing on the road “I like this song.” She explained, her voice coming out a little louder than a whisper. He put both hands on the steering wheel to replace the sensation of her palm on his.

“Your hands always that cold?”

“Sorry.” She said bluntly. Looked out the window again. Way to make conversation, he thought and glanced at her. She started humming to the music of the song, turned her head by the window again. He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel awkwardly, he didn’t know what to say. He started kissing his own lips, little ‘tsks’ leaving his mouth repeatedly until she smacked his arm- “stop with that it’s annoying.”

“Ouch!” he complained, shifting his shoulder away from her like he had actually been hurt. “femme ingrate” he murmured under his breath. She snapped her head towards him, smacking him again. He gasped, moving his entire body closer to the door.

“Stop it with the french too, it’s even more annoying!” She raised her voice “If you have something to say to me just say it in a language I understand. There!” she pointed angrily at the radio “now the song is over. Thanks for that-“

“You know if you want you can walk out the door, walk back home in the rain.”

That shut her up alright. He let a very low scoff escape his lips as he looked at the street again, mumbling a “putain” under his breath as well. She crossed her arms, leaning deeper in her seat. Now he really wanted to know what was going on.

“Did he fire you or something?” he asked, not looking at her.

“What?”

“Your boss. Did he fire you is this why you are like this-“

“Why do we always have to talk about my boss?” she topped his voice, exasperated.

“I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“You’re just trying to fish for information” she murmured “I’m not dumb Kylian.”

“Hey I didn’t force you into this car. Alright?”

She bit on her nails, looking away. They didn’t say anything more. He started taping his thumb again, which was driving her insane and he knew by the way her eyes closed and her breathing got heavier. She jumped on her seat, sitting straighter “Alright I’m sorry, you are a hero for driving me home, can you please stop doing that now?” She asked and he moved his one hand away from the wheel, rolling his eyes. He placed it on his thigh instead. “thanks!” she said in relief and sat back again. Silence followed for a few seconds. He doubted she was going to say anything until-

“He didn’t fire me.” She whispered

He was surprised at her reply. His gaze darted between her and the street. He processed her answer, thought about what to say back. “You wanna talk about it?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” She said, biting her thumb, watching as the raindrops found their way to each other on the window.

“try me.”

“I don’t want to.” She answered quickly. “What do you care, anyway? I’m a bitch, right?”

He laughed, he didn’t want to but he couldn’t help it “is this what this is about?”

“You’re not as important to me. Believe it or not, I don’t care about what you think of me.”

“Good cause I’d have to feel really bad if you did.”

She looked at him “what did you say to me during the interviews?” she asked and he held back his own breath. He didn’t want to tell her.

“I thought you didn’t care.”

“I heard the word sexy, I’m not deaf. And there’s a line Kylian, alright? Those sort of comments go passed it. I won’t have any of it.”

He bit his lips together, so he wouldn’t smile. Didn’t say anything back. They reached her house a few minutes later. He stopped on the sidewalk across from it. She started picking up all her stuff, getting ready to leave.

“It wasn’t meant as an insult.” He suddenly said, making her look at him puzzled. For some reason he was tempted to pick on the strand of hair that was stuck on her lips. Push it behind her ear. He licked his lips while she stared at him “It was a bad joke about you in the uniform.” He explained. Her expression was confusing to him, he couldn’t understand if she was intrigued or annoyed or both.

“Well, don’t let it happen again.” She maneuvered her body to open the door but her grabbed her arm instantly, making her turn to him again, whispering a ‘wait’. And she waited, expecting him to say something, follow with an apology or something. He realized that if he wanted her to open up to him, he had to do so first. He looked away, he didn’t want to be able to see her while he spoke. So he kept his focus on a dumpster across from them.

“You were right.” He said. He was really struggling, closing his eyes and flinching just by the thought that he was answering her questions “About my 100% and my personal life affecting the way I play. I’m trying to work through it. It’s been bugging me ever since Qatar.” He said all that in one breath, part of him hoping she hadn’t even heard it. He had to look at her to make sure she had because she wasn’t saying anything back. He was met with an unfamiliar expression. Her eyebrows were downward, like she was going to start crying. He narrowed his eyes, afraid that she actually would “did you hear me?”

She tensed, like she had woken up from a trance “yeah, yeah. Sorry. Thanks for telling me.”

“You’re not gonna say anything? Not one of your advices or something?”

“I…” her voice trailed off. She coughed, it was a fake a cough, he could tell. She rubbed her forehead nervously “sorry. I’m out of advices for today.” She mumbled, letting out a deep breath. He unbuttoned his seatbelt to move closer to her, shifting his body so it would be facing her. He didn’t understand how close he had gotten until she raised her head to look at him, her hair almost brushing his nose. Their eyes locking together in the silence.

“You’re gonna tell me what’s going on?” his voice was barely audible. It was more of a breath. Her eyes made him believe she would, that she’d admit to him the whole truth, whatever the truth was. The temptation of touching her returned, maybe that would convince her. He followed her gaze as it moved around, studying all of his face.

“I think you were right too” she said, sorrow growing in her eyes.

“About what?” he asked, frowning.

“Me.” She said it like it was a dirty word. He wanted to know more. He was trying to focus on just one thing but the proximity was starting to dawn on him, just as the vulnerability of the situation. Too close, way too close, he thought. She moved slightly away, tilting her head and he would have held her face, make her look at him if they weren’t both startled by a knock on her window, making them both look behind her.

It was a woman, tall, black long hair, blue eyes, holding an umbrella. His mouth opened slowly “please god tell me that’s not Luna.” He mumbled.

“Trish?” She gasped and got out of the car, the sound of the rain getting louder as she opened the door. The two woman hugged and let out gasps and cries while the rain was washing them both.

“What the ‘ell are you doing here?”

“Wanted to surprise you girl!”

“is every one ok? Is dad ok?”

“He’s fine!”

He watched at them, confused to say the least.

“I can’t believe you’re here-“

“Hey, pardon-“ he tried to get their attention. The tall woman, Trish, looked at him, her eyes widening. “Hi-“ he said but the woman looked directly back at her friend.

“Babe” she said “there’s a hot guy inside that car.”

He smiled wide, laughing, biting his tongue and leaning back on his chair. He could just imagine Taylor’s face by now, throwing daggers at her friend.

“Hey cutie, come help with my bags-“

“TRISH! NO!” tried taylor. But Kylian wasn’t about to let go of this opportunity. He came out of the car, pulling up the hoodie of his jacket to cover his hair from the rain. Trish moved closer to him, keeping her hand out for him.

“Well, hey you.” She smirked “didn’t tell me Kylian Mbappe was driving you around town, taylor.”

“It’s a one time thing.”

“Hm. That’s what they all say” she said to taylor “I’m Trish by the way, a pleasure to meet you.”

Kylian smiled, brought her hand up to his lips and gave it a kiss. He caught Taylor making a vomiting face in the back, that made him smile more as he let go of Trish’s hand. “J’enchante.”

“Ah he’s french.” She gasped, practically looking at him with heart eyes.

“And I am getting wet, if anyone cares” taylor said, moving to the entrance of her house so she’d be covered by rain. Kylian was enjoying this more than he should.

“Is she always this grumpy?” he asked

“You get used to it” Trish smiled and walked with him towards Taylor. Who was struggling to keep all her folders and bags in balance “you don’t mind carrying the bags upstairs do you?” she asked in a singing tone. He could already tell she was the fun one of the two.

“why did you bring two bags? There’s no way Miranda gave you more than two days off.”

“Well what if I meet the love of my life and decide to move here, I had to be prepared.” She winked at Kylian “chances are already very high of that happening.” He laughed awkwardly. She was a flirt, a really good one. He ducked down and grabbed her bags, waiting for taylor to open the door. She had this look on her face, like she hated every minute of this. “Oh, come on taylor” her hands stroked his shoulders as she leaned closer to him “let the man in the building. Don’t tell me a guy like this, hasn’t already seen the inside of your apartment-“

“You are on a time out from on!” taylor cut her off, pointing at her with her keys “and you stop laughing. She’s clearly jet lagged or something.” She turned around and unlocked the door of the building. They walked up the stairs to the second floor and she opened that her apartment’s door. She held it open for both of them, letting Kylian in first.

The house was smaller than his living room and it was messy. It was like a studio, Brown warm colors on the wall, a bed for two, a small desk across from it, the smallest kitchen behind the desk and a separate small room which he could guess was the bathroom. It felt cozy.

Kylian left the bags down on a corner and Trish was next to him moments later thanking him “You’re a true hero. I have to say I’m a huge fan.”

“She’s never watched football in her life.”

“That’s not true” Trish complained “you’ve forced me to watch it repeatedly for your stupid articles-“ Taylor’s eyes widened, she put herself between Trish and Kylian pushing her friend back “have to say she’s very unfair with you-“

“I’m just the analyst.” taylor said, topping her friend’s voice. “JW writes the articles”

“Have you met JW, Trish?” Kylian asked, slipping his hands in his pocket.

Trish paused for the first time since he saw her. Smiling slightly “hadn’t had the pleasure. But he doesn’t sound like a very fun guy does he?” taylor elbowed her, making her groan.

“Don’t you have to go Kylian? We wouldn’t want to hold you here.” She started pushing him out of the door, forcing him to leave. He held on the door frame before she could close it on his face

“You know I was thinking I could drive you to practice tomorrow morning. We could start going together, I mean I pass by your house any way.”

“That’s a yes from me!” Trish said, raising her hand.

“He wasn’t asking you.” Taylor snapped. Looking at her friend and then back at Kylian “That’s nice of you but it’s not necessary. Driving for free with a millionaire while I could be helping the poor uber drivers of Paris-“

“be serious” he said, cutting her off. “It will save you money and time.”

“You know I really need to find my cat, I think she locked herself in the bathroom again so I’ll text you alright? Bye!” she shut the door on his face, leaving him alone on the other side. He smiled. He was so close to getting what he wanted out of her, he wasn’t going to give up now.

Trish walked over to the window, peaking through the curtain at the rain and the street and him. Kylian was walking to his car when his eyes searched the window. She waved her fingers at him playfully, smiling. He nodded and got in his car. That’s when Trish looked at her friend who was just coming out of the kitchen with a glass of water.

“Why haven’t you told him the truth yet?”

“No one knows. They still think I’m just an assistant.”

“Very convenient for you.”

“it’s not actually.” She raised the glass to her lips

“Do you have this sexual tension with all the players?”

She choked on the water, coughing and tilting her entire body. Trish moved closer, patting her on the back. “You can’t just say shit like that-“

“Sorry!” Trish laughed while her friend was regaining her composure when she stopped coughing and practically dying Taylor let down her glass and wrapped her arms around Trish.

“I missed you.” she said in her shoulder.

“Me too angel! Me too! Tell me all about the hot guys now.”

It was 3am and they were still awake. Well, Trish was half asleep under the covers, answering with mumbles mostly for the last few minutes while Taylor was rambling away about all her adventures ever since she got to Paris.

“Stop staring at that thing it will drive you insane.” Trish said. Taylor had been looking at her phone for a while now. Considering if she should text Kylian or not. “Just text him”

“What if he has malicious intends?”

“If his malicious intend is getting you laid then I’m all for it” she said in the pillow. Taylor pushed her.

“Enough with that. Me and him is never happening! Not with any of the players, I’m gonna be their coach.”

“Ah.” she sighed “love and hate such a thin line between the two, until there isn’t one at all.” With that she started falling in deep sleep.

Taylor continued looking at her screen, opening the messages app and clicking on his name. She bit her tongue, thinking about the worst-case scenario. Why was he so changed all of a sudden? She’s wasn’t dumb. He clearly wanted something. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer right?

Can you come by at 8?

She didn’t move her eyes from the screen, waiting for him to see the message. He did, just seconds later and then the bubbles appeared.

Your Uber drive has been confirmed for 8.

She laughed. God, he was such a dork when he wanted to. She closed the phone and left it on her night stand. Falling asleep next to her best friend.

TAYLOR’S STREET – THE NEXT DAY

“Your friend not coming?” asked Kylian while she opened the door to get in his car.

“She’s coming at the gathering after the game.” She sat down buckling her seatbelt “She was good for your pride, wasn’t she?”

“I mean. It was a breath of fresh air from your constant looks of disapproval.”

She laughed “I’ll let you enjoy it for as long as she’s here then.” She told him and he started the car.

TRAINING CAMPUS – OUTSIDE AREA

“you’re driving her to campus now?” asked Verratti, while he and Kylian were jogging on the pitch. Hakimi was running behind them half listening to what they were saying.

“it’s just part of the plan.” Kylian reassured him. Hakimi looked at his best friend, shaking his head. “I’ll keep an eye on her during the gathering after the game tomorrow. I have a good feeling about it” he smiled.

“I have a feeling you two will be getting your ass kicked soon, and I’ll watch.” Said Hakimi and ran passed them both. Kylian searched for her, finding her sitting with Galtier in one of the benches, showing him a document. He was nodding in agreement before his eyes looked up and landed on him. That’s how they knew, they were talking about him.

STATE DE LA ROUTE DE LORIENT – NIGHT

It had already started raining. At first it was slight drops and everone hoped it’d finish before the game. The true storm was happening inside the locker rooms. Kylian was throwing a tantrum after being told that he’d be benched for the first half of the game. They were fighting with Galtier but it wasn’t like he’d be changing his mind.

When he met Taylor in the hall, he didn’t even look at her. He knew that she had been a part of this choice somehow. He was scared of what would come out of his mouth if he said anything at all. So, he sat behind the benches while she was sitting next to Galtier and her friend Trish.

“You think you can stay calm today?” Asked Galtier.

“Of course!” she smiled “it was just the first match excitement. I promise I’ll be chill.” She clicked her fingers today, trying to look cool.

20 minutes in the game and she had picked a fight with one of the players that were benched on the other time. She was loud, sometimes screaming. No matter her attempts to stay ‘chill’ she couldn’t hide the force of a nature that was coming out of her every time she thought the team was slow or the referees were biased. One of the players from the other team saw it too, he was laughing at her, mocking her along with his friend. Kylian knew the man was done for when she noticed it.

“What are you laughing for?” she yelled. It was the first time Trish looked up from her phone from the entire match. Kylian was watching everything unfold before his eyes. The man on the opposite team laughed at her reaction. Boy, was he about to get a beating.

“Is one off them your boyfriend?” he asked, making it sound like an insult. Kylian wanted to laugh, finally this was getting interesting for him. Trish got up, holding her friend’s shoulder like she knew what was about to follow. She whispered something in Taylor’s ear and taylor made a step back, returning her gaze at the game. Kylian thought that was gonna be it until the last minutes of the first half. The guy had gotten up now, eying her in an inappropriate way. Taylor was getting annoyed, he knew because she kept doing that thing with her fingers, tapping her nails on her thumb repeatedly. She was a time bomb.

“Hey you!” the man said and Kylian bent his body forward, listening or maybe preparing to jump in in case of a crisis. Taylor turned to look at him, it was a deadly stare. “You’re too loud for a woman. Footballs for boys-“

Kylian had jumped of his seat before the guy even finished the sentence. So had taylor who paced towards the guy, holding her head high and yelling in his face “You did you just say to me?” she asked. Kylian stood in front of her moving his body so she wouldn’t be able to go any further.

“Sit down Taylor!” he ordered. The deadly stare was now on him, she was gonna take it on to him.

“I’m not a fucking dog Kylian-“ she yelled. The man laughed louder, like he was enjoying this like he actually wanted her to attack him. Taylor tried to step forward, pointing at the guy “You wanna see how loud I can get?”

His teammates were now pushing back their friend so he wouldn’t go any farther with this. Kylian tried to hold her hand and pull it down but she slapped his away. “don’t fucking touch me!” Kylian wasn’t afraid of her warning, he seized her shoulders, forcing her to turn the other way and pushing her away. She tried to turn back but his grip on her shoulders would get tighter and force her to keep moving.

“You’re on the fucking screens!” he told her and when they were in front of her bench, he sat her down. She crossed her arms, dicing deep into her long and puffy jacket. Puffing the loose strands of hair away from her face. He looked at her, hands on hips like he was about to reprehend her for what she did but he didn’t say anything. Galtier walked up to him, patting him on the shoulder

“You’re in in 5” he said. Kylian nodded and looked at Taylor.

“Try not to make a scene while I’m away.” He warned, unzipping his jacket and taking off his scarfs and cap.

Trish came and sat next to taylor. “Are you ok?” she asked.

“No.” she answered coldly.

Kylian kept an eye on her from the field. She had gone awfully silent. The game was lost, psg lost. Everyone was angry and disappointed. He saw her sitting on the bench still, same way he had left her. Had she actually listened to him?

“Kylian!”

He turned around at the sound of his name. A wide smile spread on his lips when he saw who it “BELLINGHAM! AH!” The two men grasped each other’s hands in a clap and bumping their shoulders together. “How you doing men?”

“Good, mate!”

“What are you doing in Paris?”

“My mom wanted vacation. I wanted to find someone.”

“In Paris?”

“Her name is TJ, apparently she’s on your crew now.”

Kylian was lost “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“It’s TJ Wilock.”

He froze. “You mean taylor?”

“Yes.”

He crossed his arms “how do you know her?” he asked

“She was on the under 8 team in Birmingham city. Lost touch after she was picked out by Chelsea.”

“Chelsea?” Kylian repeated in disbelief. He laughed; it was a bitter laugh.

“Yeah, she was the best they had in woman’s team. Almost joined national as well-“

He couldn’t believe his ears, he thought someone was pranking him and he kept looking around for the cameras.

“You didn’t know?”

“No. I… she doesn’t like to brag I guess.”

“Doesn’t sound like her.” Jude joked. Kylian pretended to be laughing as well. He wanted to punch something. “It’s a shame what happened to her.

Kylan raised his eyebrows. Oh, he really wanted to know more and he did, he learnt anything he could to find out.

She had seen him. It was one of the reasons she stopped reacting. When she saw Jude in the crowd, she knew she could get in trouble. She hadn’t met Jude in years, unlike her he had managed to build a huge career in football, loved by most and his performance in the world cup had made him the favorite new star. If the situations were any different, she would have gone and talked to him. Now she was trying to hide.

“Maybe he didn’t even see me. Why would he?”

“Your face was on the screens” Trish reminded her.

A few moments later Jude had come to say hi and while they were talking about old times Kylian was staring and she knew she was in trouble.

“I saw you on tiktok” he said “fighting that referee. It went viral.”

“Don’t remind me.” She groaned

“Still as badass as you were.” He joked.

“Always.” She smiled.

AFTER GAME GATHERING VENUE – NIGHT

She sat by the bar, keeping her distance from everyone. A glass of red wine in her hand. Everyone else was trying to forget about the game, she was already writing in her mind about how much of a shit show it was and how she still hadn’t proven to Galtier her presence made any real difference.

“Hold that any tighter and you’ll break it.”

She looked to her right and saw Kylian, leaning back on the bar like she was, a bottle of beer in his hand. “Your friend seemed to have fun during the game.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“Oh no, I mean the other one. Jude.”

She didn’t look at him. She had known this was coming sooner or later.

“Chelsea, hm?” he asked. She didn’t react “So just to be clear, when you said I was right about you, you meant that you were a bitch or a liar?”

She actually feared that she’d break the glass so she left it on the counter. She wasn’t going to stay around for this, at the end of the day she didn’t really owe him anything. She turned around to leave. Little did she know he was going to follow right back at her.

He caught her on the narrow hallways of the venue that led to the bathrooms, reaching for her arm. She tried to shake him off but he stepped in front of her and trapped her between himself and the wall-

“How can you do this to them?” he asked. How much did he know? “Ever since you’ve come here you’ve lied to their face, to all of us, climbing up the top like a spider-“

“Back of Kylian!”

“You pretend to be their friend while you feed your boss with information about us to write articles like the one he did on Ney.” So, he didn’t know everything yet “and you don’t even have the decency to be honest with them about who you are.”

“My past career is none of your business.”

“It is! when you’re not open about what you’re really here to do because you are clearly not just a journalist.” He stepped closer, she didn’t know how that was possible. She could feel his heartbeat on her skin. She placed her hands on his chest to push him away but he grabbed her palms, pushing her hands downwards. “You think I don’t know you were part of the reason I was benched today?”

“His next article is about you, you know?” she said, almost spitting the words at him. She wasn’t going to be intimated by him, she’d play along “just how broken is the golden boy of France? Perhaps a talent going to waste far too soon-“

“I trusted you- “

“No, you didn’t. you were trying to get close to me and for fuck’s shake you almost succeeded but I’m not an idiot”

“Really?” he looked down at her face, his whisper warming her cheeks whether she liked it or not. Another step forwards and now there was no distance between them “not even a little?”

“You’re fucking delusional.” She stared in his eyes, keep her expression blank “I’m not the one peaking in bathrooms.”

He was baffled for 2 seconds at most because afterwards he started laughing. He didn’t move though, he stayed as close as he was. Biting his tongue “gonna tell him about that as well?” he asked, his face moving closer to hers.

“You’re disgusting, get out of my face-“ she said but she didn’t try to move away. It was like he had put a spell on her, tied her where she was. Suddenly all she could think was his bare chest, his smile, the way he celebrated on the field. Love and hate, such a thin line between them until there isn’t one at all.

“Need I remind you; you were the one on the men’s lockers room the first day you got here.” That reminded her how great that slap had felt on the first day. She slipped her hand away from his to do it again, just as he deserved but he saw it this time and he caught it. Holding her wrists tightly in his hand

“Told you, you’d be in real trouble if you tried this again.” He growled, his voice coming out so raspy, so threatening. She wasn’t sure if it was his heartbeat or hers that she was listening to. She didn’t know if he was the one leaning on her or other way around and she certainly didn’t know why she hadn’t left. She looked at his lips while he spoke, told herself it was because his eyes were too dark. He got even closer, his finger tying around her wrist, pulling her hand down again. She could already imagine what his lips tasted like by the smell of alcohol. She could almost feel it and she almost wanted it. So close.

“Kylian!” A rough voice called from the end of the hallway. Marquinhos.

She almost had it.

FOR STARTERS,,, there is more Jude coming. I just couldn't add it in this chapter. He will be everyone's comfort character because we need it. PLS DO NOT ATTACK ME FOR RHIS ENDING. If you are smelling smoke it's the heat from the next chapter 👀👀👀 bc you know things are obviously getting heated And you haven't seen ANYTHING YET!! Very excited for you to read it 🥹 also clues are piling up. You think Kylian will be figuring out about Taylor soon? 👀

Next chapter »

[drewharrisonwriter]

Lifeline - Ch. 4: Restarting

Pairings: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader, referred to as “Honey” 

Series Summary: After basically being dropped and rejected by every PR agency in Hollywood for being such a huge liability, Dieter Bravo must work on resetting his public image in the most unexpected ways.

Author's Notes: I have been working on this fic on and off for the past year, and this story is a little personal to me. Yes, I am trauma dumping in some scenes lol but I also want to say that there will be so many unrealistic things about Hollywood, actors, and PR/Marketing agencies here, to which I apologize.

Warnings: Angst, a little drama, lots of flashbacks. More warnings to come as the story progresses.

Read this on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dieter stepped into the bustling community center, the sound of children’s laughter and clattering art supplies filling the air. The place was alive with energy—kids of all ages crowded around long tables covered in paper, paint, and glue sticks, their eager voices blending into a cheerful chaos. The scent of acrylic paint and the faint undertone of cleaning supplies lingered in the air, grounding Dieter in a reality far removed from the sterile sets and glitzy parties he was used to.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tamp down the unease simmering in his chest. He felt out of place in his worn jeans and plain black t-shirt, like an imposter stepping into someone else’s life. He’d agreed to this only because Honey had insisted it would be a low-pressure way to start repairing his public image. No cameras, no staged photo-ops—just him, some kids, and a couple of hours where he’d be seen doing something halfway decent. But as he stood there, Dieter couldn’t help but feel like everyone was staring at him, judging him for who he’d become.

A young volunteer approached, a bright smile on her face. She was in her early twenties, with colorful streaks in her hair and paint smudged on her apron. “Hey, you must be Dieter! I’m Sam. Thanks for coming out today—we could definitely use the extra hands.” She gestured to the chaotic tables behind her. “We’re making Mother’s Day cards, so it’s a bit of a mess.”

Dieter forced a smile, trying to match her enthusiasm. “Yeah, sure. No problem. What do you need me to do?”

Sam handed him a stack of blank cards and a box of markers. “You can help the kids decorate these. They’re going all out today—glitter, stickers, the works. It’s kind of fun once you get into it.”

Dieter nodded, glancing at the kids who were already knee-deep in their projects. He could feel eyes on him, a mix of curiosity and recognition that he’d grown accustomed to but never quite learned to embrace. He pulled up a chair at one of the tables, sitting down between two boys who were arguing over a tube of glitter glue.

“Hey, guys,” Dieter said, trying to inject some warmth into his voice. “Mind if I join?”

One of the boys, a freckle-faced kid with a gap-toothed smile, looked up and stared at him for a long moment. “You’re that guy from the movies, right? My dad says you used to be really famous.”

Dieter chuckled awkwardly, unsure how to respond. “Yeah, something like that. You got a name, buddy?”

“Ethan,” the boy said, then pointed to his friend. “And this is Jake. We’re making cards for our moms, but he’s hogging all the good stickers.”

Jake shot Ethan a glare but shoved a handful of glittery heart stickers toward him. “Fine, you big baby.”

Dieter watched the exchange, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. For a moment, it felt almost normal—just another day, just another table. He picked up a marker and started doodling on a blank card, his lines shaky at first but growing more confident as he lost himself in the simple task. The boys chatted beside him, occasionally asking for his opinion on their creations, and Dieter found himself giving advice on which colors looked best or how to draw the perfect smiley face.

Art had always been Dieter’s secret refuge, a talent he rarely showed publicly but took great pride in. He could lose himself in a sketch for hours, finding solace in the simple act of creation. He hadn’t picked up a pen in weeks, maybe longer, and it felt strangely soothing to be doing something that wasn’t for show, just for the sheer joy of it.

Half an hour passed, and Dieter was surprised at how quickly he’d settled into the rhythm of the activity. He helped a girl struggling to cut out a paper flower and showed another kid how to draw a puppy that didn’t look like a potato. It was mundane and messy, but it was real in a way that Dieter hadn’t experienced in a long time. For a brief period, he wasn’t Dieter Bravo, the scandal-ridden actor—he was just a guy helping kids make cards for their moms.

Ethan watched as Dieter drew a quick sketch of a sunflower, his eyes widening with admiration. “Whoa, that’s really cool. You’re good at this.”

Dieter shrugged, trying not to let the compliment go to his head. “Thanks, kid. I’ve been at it a while.”

Ethan leaned closer, his curiosity piqued. “Did you ever think about doing this instead of movies?”

Dieter paused, caught off guard by the question. “Yeah, actually. Once upon a time. But life had other plans.”

The boy nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and went back to gluing glitter onto his card. Dieter watched him, a bittersweet smile on his face, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t entirely lost. The world outside could wait; right now, he was doing something that mattered, even if it was just to a group of kids with markers and glitter glue.

–

The weeks that followed Dieter’s first volunteer gig at the community center were a blur of carefully managed appearances, low-profile events, and calculated steps to rebuild his image. Honey had planned every detail meticulously, curating opportunities that would put Dieter in the public eye without overwhelming him—or giving the tabloids more ammunition. Each event was a test of Dieter’s resolve, pushing him to engage without losing control, to be present without falling back into old habits.

One of their first few outings after the community center was at a local soup kitchen. It was an early morning, and Dieter showed up half-awake, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and a hoodie that did little to hide his tired demeanor. The kitchen was already buzzing with volunteers, and Dieter felt the familiar pang of self-doubt creep in.

Honey was there, clipboard in hand, already talking to the staff and making sure everything was set. She spotted Dieter and gave him a quick once-over, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Rough night?”

Dieter shrugged, trying to muster a smile. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

Honey handed him an apron, her expression softening just a bit. “Well, let’s keep it together today, alright? The cameras might not be here, but people still talk.”

Dieter nodded, tying the apron around his waist. He spent the next few hours serving meals, exchanging small talk with the other volunteers, and gradually finding his footing in the repetitive tasks. It wasn’t glamorous, but it felt purposeful. Honey watched from the sidelines, her eyes never straying far from Dieter, noting every slip and every small triumph.

As they wrapped up, Honey approached Dieter with a bottle of water. “Not bad today,” she said, her tone approving. “You looked… genuine.”

Dieter took the bottle, unscrewing the cap. “I was trying, you know. Not to screw it up.”

Honey smiled, a small, rare thing. “You didn’t. Let’s keep it that way.”

—

Dieter stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie for what felt like the hundredth time. The suit Honey had chosen for him was sharp—classic black, tailored to perfection, and a far cry from the disheveled, carefree style he’d grown accustomed to. He tugged at the collar, feeling the fabric tight around his throat, as if it was trying to choke the confidence out of him. This was the first real event Honey had lined up, and it felt like a test he wasn’t sure he’d pass.

Just as he was about to grab his jacket, Dieter’s phone buzzed with a message from Honey: Be there in ten. No surprises tonight.

Dieter smirked, grabbing his keys and heading out to the lobby to meet her. When he saw her step out of the car, his breath caught in his throat. Honey was stunning in a sleek black dress, simple but elegant, her hair loosely pinned back. She looked every bit the poised, professional woman she’d grown into, but there was something in the way she glanced around that reminded Dieter of the girl she used to be—the one who would wait for him at the stage door with that same mix of nerves and excitement.

As she approached, Dieter gave her an appreciative once-over. “Damn, Honey. You clean up nice.”

Honey rolled her eyes, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks. “I could say the same for you. But remember, we’re here to make an impression.”

Dieter shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling the weight of the night ahead. “About that… I was thinking, maybe you could, you know, be my date.”

Honey raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Dieter, I’m not your date. I’m your PR manager.”

Dieter’s grin turned boyish, the kind that always used to make her laugh. “Not like that. I just meant, you know… for old times’ sake. Make it look good, keep me in line. You’re the only one who knows how to.”

Honey hesitated, the words catching her off guard. There was a softness in Dieter’s eyes that she hadn’t seen in a long time, and it stirred something in her. “This isn’t a date,” she warned, but her voice lacked the usual firmness. “I’m just keeping an eye on you.”

Dieter nodded, his smile never wavering. “Deal. Just keep me from jumping out of my skin.”

As they walked into the venue together, Dieter couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of calm with Honey by his side. The grand ballroom was filled with soft lighting and low chatter, the clinking of champagne glasses mingling with light jazz that played in the background. Dieter’s anxiety spiked as they stepped further in, his gaze darting around at the familiar faces—some friendly, some not. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at his tie again, feeling like the walls were closing in.

Honey noticed immediately, her expression shifting to one of quiet concern. “You okay?”

Dieter shrugged, trying to mask his discomfort. “Yeah, it’s just… a lot. I haven’t been in a room like this in a while.”

Honey nodded, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “Just breathe. You’ve got this. Remember, you’re not here to perform. Just be yourself—well, the best version of that,” she added with a teasing smile.

Dieter let out a breath, her words grounding him. “Yeah, thanks. It’s just… you know, I used to own rooms like this.”

Honey gave him a reassuring smile. “And you will again. Tonight’s just a start. Think of it as practice.”

Dieter laughed softly, her encouragement calming his nerves. They drifted to a quieter corner, sharing light conversation. Honey slipped easily between friend and PR manager, checking in on Dieter’s mood and making small suggestions—“Smile when you’re talking, it reads better,” and “Don’t grip your glass so tight; it makes you look tense.” But there were also moments of genuine connection, where they talked about the little things: the absurdity of the silent auction items, the hilarity of the overly fancy appetizers, and the nostalgia of being in a setting that once felt so natural to Dieter.

“You remember that one movie premiere?” Dieter mused, his eyes distant with memory, when in fact it was just a few weeks ago where he was invited to attend a premiere of a former castmate’s latest movie. “The lights went out and you tripped over the red carpet? You were so mad.”

Honey laughed, covering her mouth. “Oh my God, yes. I was mortified. You just kept telling everyone I was making a dramatic entrance.”

Dieter chuckled, a warm, familiar sound that pulled Honey back into their shared past. “You were. Best part of the night.”

They fell into an easy rhythm, the conversation flowing effortlessly between the past and present. Honey kept Dieter engaged, nudging him to mingle with a few key people, each time offering a subtle nod or smile of encouragement that helped him push through his hesitations. Dieter found himself more at ease, moving through the crowd with a confidence he hadn’t felt in months, buoyed by Honey’s quiet presence beside him.

As the night wound down, Dieter lingered near the exit, Honey by his side. He looked at her, the soft lighting catching the glimmer in her eyes. “This was… nice,” he admitted, his voice lower, almost shy. “It’s been a while since I felt like I wasn’t completely drowning.”

Honey nodded, her expression softening. “You did well tonight. This is just the beginning.”

Dieter hesitated, then took a small step closer. “Hey, why don’t you come over? We could catch up a little. I’ll make coffee. You can chew on all the ice you want.”

Honey laughed lightly but shook her head. “I can’t. I have somewhere I need to be.”

Dieter frowned, a flicker of disappointment flashing in his eyes. “Well, at least let me drop you home.”

Honey opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. A tall, handsome man with a perfectly tailored suit stepped out, his presence commanding but casual. He rounded the car and greeted Honey with a warm smile, wrapping an arm around her in a way that felt both familiar and possessive.

“Phil,” Honey said, her tone brightening as she introduced him. “This is Dieter. Dieter, this is Phil.”

Dieter’s stomach dropped, his earlier confidence evaporating. He forced a smile, shaking Phil’s hand with just a touch too much force. “Nice to meet you,” he managed, though his voice sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Phil grinned, seemingly unaware of Dieter’s internal turmoil. “Likewise. Honey’s told me all about your work together. You’re in good hands.”

Dieter nodded stiffly, feeling the sting of the moment. He watched as Honey and Phil exchanged a look that spoke volumes, one filled with an unspoken history Dieter wasn’t part of. His chest tightened, like he’d taken a punch straight to the gut. He couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in his own story, like he was watching a scene he wasn’t meant to be in.

Honey turned back to Dieter, her smile kind but distant. “I’ll see you Monday, okay? And remember—no parties, no social media… for now.”

Dieter swallowed hard, managing a tight nod. “Yeah. See you.”

He watched as Phil opened the car door for Honey, their laughter mingling with the soft hum of the city night. Dieter stood there, feeling the weight of everything he’d lost and the ache of everything that could never be. As the car pulled away, Dieter’s heart twisted painfully, a mix of jealousy, regret, and something deeper—something that felt like hope slipping further out of reach.

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[umitsy]

warnings: love obsession, mentions of blood and weapons, invading reader's privacy

reader's g/n

A side character on an otome game that is about a kinda apocalypse going on in the world.

You obviously get choices every now and then, but you have to be extra careful because you could die with any wrong answer (even with some dialogues you may get with the love interests.)

So, this side character is one of the love interest's enemies and has to fulfill the role as a 'bully'. However, it somehow developed more code lines than any other character on the game, giving him the opportunity to be more observant than the others, have the consciousness to remember how many times you've died because you got on a bad route and so on.

The game itself has had its ending far long ago, the developers had announced there won't be sequels as they think one game has been more than enough and they feel proud with the story's ending and the high quality of the art as well. So yeah, you get to finish the whole game, unlocking each of the five possible routes—plus the deseasing and neutral ones.

You felt satisfied when you ended it and after giving yourself a break from the game for a couple of months, you missed some of the characters' lines and downloaded it once more for a 'warning' screen to pop up when you tried to log in with the account you saved your whole progress.

You panicked, of course, you've spent lots of time collecting the gems that were needed to select certain options and breaking your brain to remember the correct answers to not die.

After a couple of exchanged messages with the support team line the game had attached in case anything like that happened, you got your account back.

"You're finally back?! You went a long time to collect those groceries, you know? Were the markets that far?"—one of the love interests' lines as a comeback.

Oh yes, how you missed those dorky boys.

As you started going chapter through chapter, your phone glitched from two to three times whenever you tapped for an answer 'weird' you thought, but nothing seemed out of normal with the storyline.

When you saw your clock hit 2 a.m. you turned off your phone and went hurriedly to sleep for the next day. Little did you know a character could now think for his own and move within the basement's programmed walls for all he wanted.

You spent more nights playing, oblivious to the fact that Zander could now navigate your whole phone if he wanted, his wandering eyes codes widening collecting more and more with all he learnt about you. Getting obsessed with you and the fact that his miserable world was definitely not only that, but there was a whole new world were it seemed to be peaceful as your photos on cafés and school showed him to be like.

He wanted to be there, he wanted to be with you.

The next day's night after he decided he'd do anything to get with you, you opened the app to find a gruesome 'welcome back!' scene you'd never seen.

The love interests' blood-covered dismembered bodies were all over the basement you'd find later on the story, still—there was no sight of a zombie that could've do something like that to them, and even if there was; there were two reasons you were sure this was some kinda glitch or virus;

The love interests do not die at the end, only when you choose incorrectly but never in the basement.

Not even zombies would get them that messed up... they would bite them and may be even get some flesh out of their arms, but there were cuts that didn't seem to be caused by claws, but more like by knifes or swords.

Then you picked up on a bloody message being chaotically written in the wall behind all the chaos.

"Will you look only at me now?"

All rights reserved © 2024 umitsy. (Credit to the respective owners of the pictures.)

[yenonnoff]

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! 10. strangers (?) at an amusement park

“hi!” 

you smiled, face-to-face with atsumu. he stared at you briefly before responding with a curt nod—perhaps his unique way of greeting others. still, this was progress (at least you hoped it was). 

this time around, you plan on heeding kuroo’s advice. with one goal in mind—finding something tolerable about atsumu miya—you'll end the meeting on a good note and all the cursing done behind each other’s backs will surely be forgiven! 

you're well aware that it's ambitious of you. one way or another, you have to tolerate him and his smug behavior; tolerate his lazy smiles and vexatious comments; tolerate his oftentimes irritating candor. you could only hope and cross your fingers that the chances of today going well weren’t completely zero. 

usually atsumu plasters on an indifferent mien, but today, his eyes are limpid and curiously looking you up and down. raising a confounded brow, you asked, “what's wrong?” 

“do you want people to recognize you?” he said, simultaneously adjusting his denim cap with one hand. 

a playful smile crept onto your face, augmenting your co-star’s confusion. “what, i think i look pretty good.” 

momentarily, you caught it: the patent way atsumu cringed, his back slightly rigid. he looked beyond disgusted, eliciting a satisfied grin from you.

he cleared his throat, replying, “yeah, you’ll look pretty good when your picture appears on the news tomorrow.”

“we won’t get caught,” you said plainly. “practically everyone leaves at five p.m. anyway.” 

atsumu glanced at his watch, quietly reading the bolded numbers: 4:45. 

“you sound so sure,” he turned towards you. 

“that’s because i am, i’ve been here countless times with my friends before.”

he folded his arms, his shoulders relaxed as a subtle breeze passed by. “and you weren’t caught once?” 

“not once.” 

there was a pause between the two, the chaotic cheers from within the amusement park filling the brief silence. when the noise dispersed, atsumu said, “is that so? this’ll be the second time i’ve come here. the first was during high school with some friends.” 

you resisted a stunned smile. another wave of pandemonium blared, causing atsumu to tense, annoyance evident in his furrowed eyebrows. while his focus was elsewhere, you inhaled sharply, attempting to control your exaltation. 

this was definitely progress—good progress. was this the first time atsumu has mentioned anything personal about himself? it made you wonder if he’s still in contact with the friends he mentioned, or if he had a positive experience at this amusement park. 

when your co-star shifted his gaze back onto you, you were reminded of their current predicament—of their opposition and dislike for one another. you inhaled again; you doubt you'll ever discover the answer to those questions. 

after the film ends, you're out of there. these current circumstance were only temporary, and you were determined to resolve them quickly and soon. 

you hum in response, digging for your phone in your bag. “you’re in luck, i know this place like the back of my hand,” you smiled. “come, i compiled a list of rides i want to go on today.” 

approaching you, atsumu peered over your shoulder. he leaned closer while you navigated your notes app. he grimaced, your list seemed never-ending. 

“we’re going on all of them?”

“yes, all of them,” you reaffirmed. 

he grumbled disapprovingly. “i don’t have all day to do that, y’know.” 

you turn, peering up at his narrowed eyes in a nonchalant manner. you also wish you were doing something else—something more productive and less headache-inducing—but here you were. 

“don’t tell me you’re backing down? or, perhaps,” you paused, a finger resting on your chin, “are you afraid of heights? do you have motion sickness or something like that?” 

swiftly making an apologetic expression, you continued, “if you do, why didn’t you tell me? we would’ve went somewh—"

“no,” he interjected sternly, “i don’t have any of those things.” 

“oh, is that so?” you said disbelievingly, irking your co-star in the process. 

atsumu (scarily) smiles—not one formed out of joy, but rather impish stubbornness. 

“y’know what? fine, let’s go on all of them and see who is most exhausted at the end.” 

your eyes widened. you already knew from the way he lifted his denim cap and raked an impatient hand through his hair, that you were getting your way. still, you didn’t know he’d give in that willingly and easily. 

were you becoming an expert on how to effectively push atsumu miya’s buttons? 

“oh, but,” you paused, a thought suddenly coming to mind, “it’s not five yet. should we wait a bit?” 

“no, those roller coasters aren’t going to ride themselves. let’s get going.” 

before you knew it, he'd sidestepped you, walking towards the entrance. 

you knew you shouldn’t get your hopes up, but you was smiling like an idiot. this wasn’t a dream, right?

approaching a lone worker at the entrance, the two actors were greeted with a welcoming smile. 

“perfect weather to go on rides, right?” the worker commented in an exuberant manner. “oh! there’s an event happening today specifically for couples. it’ll begin at nine p.m., you should definitely check it out.” 

by the time the worker finished, her confident and uplifting smile had turned into a confused and blank frown. she looked extremely lost, alternating between the disgusted faces of the two figures. 

when neither of you responded, the worker cleared her throat harshly. the silence and utterly repugnant expressions were too much to bear. she had just clocked in too... she wasn’t going to let this galling situation ruin her shift. 

“sorry!” she smiled nervously. “i mistook the two of you as couples. there are numerous events today for friends as well.” 

her words didn’t alleviate the disgusted expressions—it seemed to have augmented them instead. 

attempting to reassure the worried worker, you said, “oh, we’re not friends. more like co-workers?” 

atsumu intervened, causing you to shift your attention to the blond actor. “don’t say that, it sounds equally as bad.” 

“then what are we? acquaintances?” 

you two shared a mutual look of revulsion. 

“strangers,” atsumu asserted, a less mild expression of disgust on his face. he turned to look at the worker who’s been quietly observing the tense scene in front of her. “we’re strangers. i don’t know who she is,” he smiled charmingly.

a muted and hesitant laugh escaped the worker’s lips. what kind of response were you supposed to give in a situation like this?

“…i see. you can swipe your card here.” she finally said. 

shortly after, you both walked into the amusement park, leaving the worker standing bewildered. what had she just witnessed?

a slight breeze glazed by as you and atsumu stood under a lamppost. 

with one hand tucked warmly in his pocket and the other holding tightly onto his phone, atsumu glanced at you. 

“will you be okay?” he asked. 

you only nodded briefly. he didn’t inquire out of concern, he only asked to point out your shaking legs and fatigued appearance. 

after hours of continuously riding roller coasters back and forth, you were going to feel some sort of exhaustion. it didn’t help that atsumu had said it so cunningly with a smug expression on his face. 

“looks like i won,” he mused. 

you grumbled—but you had to admit, atsumu handled himself well. usually after about the seventh ride, your friends all back down and are completely exhausted. 

you smiled tiredly. “are you sure this is the second time you’ve been here?” 

“of course it is. maybe you’re the one with motion sickness,” he said. 

before you could respond, a taxi arrived in front of you. atsumu was the one who had called for it, seeing as his co-star’s voice was extremely hoarse and dry. you wondered if atsumu’s eardrums were alright. 

opening the door, you looked at him over your shoulder. “you’re taking a different taxi, right?” 

“yeah, will you be okay?” he teased. 

you allowed yourself a short laugh, telling him a brief thank you before disappearing into the car.

masterlist ⌒☆ previous ⌒☆ next

fun facts:

whenever y/n and her friends go to the amusement park, kenma 8 out of 9 times will insist on staying behind while the others ride the roller coaster. sometimes, he'll record them and silently laugh to himself.

once, kenma went on a ride with his sandals and he was gripping onto them for dear life. luckily none of them flew off.

kuroo accidentally ventured around the souvenir/candy store once and got chased around by a child with a sugar rush.

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! ｡ｏ♡ an atsumu miya smau

synopsis: when y/n l/n, a rising actress, decides to star in a romance film that could make or break her career, she’s unable to showcase her skills, revealing her inexperience within the romance department instead. worst of all, atsumu miya, her co-star and the main lead’s love interest, seems to hate her guts! with absolutely, unbearably zero chemistry between the two, an idea was proposed: spend time with one another in the upcoming weeks. will y/n be able to ignore her professionalism and listen to her heart? and will she, a clueless romantic, be able to pick up on the signs her co-star is sending her?

a/n: sorry to everyone who doesnt like roller coasters + has a fear of heights i can relate i also have a fear of heights ure not alone LMAOO this was a difficult ch to write omg idk if i like or hate it (nvm i hate it)

taglist is open! dm or ask to be a part of it! (those bolded were unable to be tagged)

⌒☆ @kqbukimono @empathum @clyver @chosoluv @moonplethxra @sunarots @marga-j @rukia-uchiha-98 @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ast4rg1rl @seiamor @saiewithakatana @usermins @literally-a-ferret @terrarain @iuspired @haruskatana

[sophieinwonderland]

A transphobic "journalist" visited a plural conference and claimed to get possessed by a demon! 🤣

Due to a request from the system in the video, I've deleted the link to the video and identifying information, and would ask that anyone who reblogged the old version of the post delete their reblogs to protect that system's anonymity. Thank you.

Let me summarize the bullet points:

The so-called "journalist" goes "undercover" at a gender conference. (It was free and public for everyone, but she likes roleplaying as a journalist so she says she was "undercover".)

While listening to a conference about plurality and transness, her body starts "vibrating."

After her and her witch friend go eat, "'crazy' people start becoming attracted" to her and her "crazy chaotic energy."

Her witch friend then did a "witchy thing" where she would shoot a "burst of energy" at the crazy people to chase them away.

Her witch friend then had the "journalist" bend over and hold onto a rock while she pushed the "demon" out through her's feet.

Yeah, that should be a huge red flag in itself.

Oh, and this is all crowd-funded and the "journalist" claims her trip cost $3000 dollars!

Yes, people paid $3,000 for this "journalist" to visit a free conference and report about getting possessed by a demon who made her attractive to "crazy" people, forcing her witch friend to ward the "crazy" people away by shooting bursts of energy at them.

...

Yeah... do I even need to say more?

...

I do wonder about this story. Like, mundane explanation is that she had some sort of panic attack she confused with demonic possession in the conference for some reason. Another possibility is that she... just made it up. Her transphobic talking points are already dishonest. So I wouldn't put it past her to lie and make up this event altogether.

Although the most interesting possibility to me is that she was a closeted system all along, and the talk of plurality triggered a dormant headmate to try to reach out to her.

Whatever the case, I kind of hope it wasn't a lie.

It's way funnier to imagine that she really did believe she was possessed, and her witch friend really did wave her arms around in the air to "shoot bursts of energy" at bystanders. And it worked because... well... would you go near the weird lady who looks like she's angrily pretending to launch fireballs at you?

It's way funnier if you imagine that this was a real thing that actually happened! (The actions they took that is, not the demonic possession. No, a plurality conference did not cause you to become possessed by a demon.)

...

Anyway, here is your reminder that plurality isn't a mental disorder, nor is it demonic possession, and the gender identities of headmates deserve to be respected as much as anyone else's.

Edit:

One more thing, in the video, the "journalist" acts absolutely shocked to hear all these systems around her standing up and talking about being a system. Even when the talk was listed on the website as being about plurality!

Seems like a so-called "journalist" should have already known about what she was attending, and expected there to be other plurals in attendance!

Complete side note, it's so awesome that plurality is becoming more visible and normalized, to the point where events like these are happening around the country! Never doubt that progress is being made, however slow it seems at times!

The future is plural!!! 😁

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Mephistopheles's Deal - Devilish Hierarchy in the Forgotten Realms

[Spoilers for Astarion's personal quest and also pretty much the entirety of the game.]

So, I have a lot of thoughts about the devils in Baldur's Gate 3. I think in general, Larian has done a pretty solid job of drawing from and referencing the Forgotten Realms lore as it relates to their characters and storylines, but with the devils is where the most has been lost in translation to the broader audience.

There is a big difference in the Forgotten Realms between devils and demons - it's more than just semantics. This is one area where the alignment charts are actually useful - Devils are Lawful Evil, while Demons are Chaotic Evil. What this means in practice, is that devils are evil, yes, but they are also intensely bureaucratic and bound by specific laws, structures, and hierarchies. Demons are the exact opposite, misshapen monstrosities (for the most part) that do not belong in the world and are driven to lash out at it for its existence alone.

The "Blood War" that Karlach and a few other characters mention in Avernus? That is devils vs. demons. In fact, devils were originally celestials themselves, that became corrupted in their efforts to stop the tide of demons. The remaining celestials turn a blind eye to the Hells (or actively encourage its existence) because the devils are the forces holding back the encroaching Abyss, a far greater threat than they themselves could ever be.

The major area that we see this hierarchy expressed is in the layers of the Hells, the different dominions. Zariel is the least powerful Archdevil, ruling (and fairly recently come to power, too) the First layer: Avernus. The second-strongest Archdevil, of the Eighth layer, is Mephistopheles, superseded only by Asmodeus, the Archdevil of the Ninth layer.

With regard to the overall power level of the archdevils, this is where the exact answer gets a bit fuzzy. It has varied by edition, and personal take on the lore, but the ultimate point of agreement is this: no matter how powerful you personally think the Archdevils may be, Asmodeus is the exception. He has at least the strength of a greater god (one with a wide and expansive domain crossing multiple worlds), not even including the additional power he would be able to bring to bear by virtue of his domain, were a conflict to take place within it.

Raphael and Mizora, the two "devils" we have the most direct experience with as players, are not true devils at all, but rather cambions: half-devils. This allows them to skip some of the steps of power development usually required for devils to increase their power, but also stratifies them a bit with that development. Their primary advantage is freedom of movement between the planes, granted to them by their mortal parentage.

(The above is just part of the reason why Raphael's "plan" is so laughably doomed to abject failure, but that is a meta for another day.)

On to souls: why do devils need them, how do they get them, and what do they use them for?

Devils have an entire society based on backstabbing, conniving, one-upmanship, and, most importantly: paperwork. The devils - especially the Archdevils - are always looking for ways to get one up on each other. Not even necessarily to take their positions (although if it so happens to work out that way, all the better), but just to have information, leverage, even one point of superiority over them, etc.

One of the primary ways devils can bolster their power levels is based on the number (and quality) of souls under their command. Those souls, when willingly signed away, do not go to the usual Fugue Plane upon death, to be taken by whatever god values them most highly to their own afterlife. Instead, they go directly to the Hells. There they begin the standard progression of lowest-ranked devils: tortured to wring out what magical energy can be gleaned from them, then starting as lemures on the lowest rungs of the hierarchy, contributing to the infernal economy and adding to their ruling Archdevil's power, ranks, and influence.

Unwilling souls can be used, but they are generally considered to be the lowest quality, used mostly for things like soul coins, etc.

Note: this is where this is going from primarily lore-backed meta to meta I am extrapolating onto a bit, based on what seems logical to me.

If souls can only be willingly signed away, why can Cazador pay for his contract with Mephistopheles by trading the souls of others? Based on the legalistic evil of devils, my take is that, by the properties of magic and vampirism in the Forgotten Realms, "legally" speaking, the spawn he creates are enough a part of him that he is able to speak for their souls in their stead.

Based on this property, and the aforementioned power scale of the devils, the thought arises: does it really make that much sense for the Dark Urge to just be able to waltz into the Eighth layer of the Hells and steal the Crown of Karsus? It would make much more sense if it was willingly given - or at the least, allowed to be taken - by Mephisto, who stood to gain something much better than a bauble of not much use to archdevils: souls, and a multitude of them.

If Cazador is able to sign away the souls of his spawn, due to them being magically recognized as a part of him, I believe the same would be true for mindflayers turned by the controlled Netherbrain. The goal of the Dead Three was to ultimately transform an untold number of denizens of the Forgotten Realms, to take their souls and the power from their worship away from the gods (they never claimed to be brilliant strategists, we'll leave it at that). Mephisto, then, would stand to gain a great deal in being able to make use of those souls himself.

I do think that rather than a heist, Durge and/or Gortash made a deal with Mephisto for the Crown in exchange for the souls of any transformed mindflayers. A win-win for both parties, by all accounts.

Shame about the unforeseen brain damage and/or ragtag team of meddling do-gooders - and their owlbear, too.