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feveredvisions · 2 months ago

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Doubt

(Tommy Riordan Conlon x Reader)

Here's my Masterlist if you want some more filth or some fluff. I'm open for requests too. Just drop by an ask xxx

Summary: No one can hate a job faster than you can. Just three weeks in, everything wrong was unveiled. A toxic scheming cheapo boss, overworked and underpaid managers and other employees, being a newbie who trains the tenured managers on a new software you googled the manual for, disorganised system that makes you strangle yourself every shift. Your boyfriend, Tommy Conlon, catches you in the middle of strangling yourself. You spiral and he lets you until you drop another break up bomb to which he takes his time to unwind you and remind you who you are and what you're capable of. And that breaking up is never an option to solve a problem that can easily be chucked down to hell. Author's Note: I dedicate this imagine to anyone who hates working and only does it for the paycheque and to settle their debts and build their savings. Fuck this job and fuck y'all, *I mutter my mantra as I log in on the dot.* It's been a rough ass week y'all. Needed me some Tommy for comfort. I'm dropping an emo Harry Da Souza x Jan Da Souza blurb next xxx Also tysm @saradika-graphics for the cutesy dividerss Pls forgive any grammatical errors. Your author is deprived of sleep and freedom from the corporate shackles and intense hormonal imbalances. But fuck it;s finally the end of the week. My suffering ends. It makes me happy that I get to share my writing with y'all. I hope you enjoy this one. Would love to hear your thoughts and everything in between.

Three weeks into her new job (actually three days in, she's already had a bad feeling,) and she already feels like she’s swallowed something rotten. The shine of working at her new job had rusted, souring her stomach.

At first, it was oh-so perfect. She gets to work at home, not having to wake up hours earlier to prepare for the commute, and no office politics to deal with everyday. Or so she thought.

The delivery day of her shiny brand new equipment was like Christmas day. Her boyfriend, Tommy helped her haul everything inside the house and turn the spare room used for storing unused seasonable clothes into a cosy li’l office. Unboxing and peeling off the protective plastic seal from the fresh equipments felt like opening gifts on a Christmas morning.

“Look at you,” Tommy teased you with a cheeky grin as he ruffled your hair. “Fancy corporate shit.” You swatted him away, laughing

Now, the same room felt…disgusting. As if she were a corporate war veteran stepping into the familiar landmines of corporate bullshit, mixed with the ghostly stench of coffee breath and the musky damp air conditioned smell of the room that’s as cold and empty as a corpse’s. She tried to change it a bit and make it better in her own home which she shares with Tommy. Opened the windows to let fresh air in. Letting the sunlight in where like a cat, she liked being under. Even brought in a little succulent desk plant that came in robust and fat, but was now already dying because she kept forgetting to water it. She thought it was self-sufficient like the seller said and didn't need to be watered too often as it could drown.

Apparently, no, the rot was deeper. She'd probably sucked the life out of it.

Seven months of unemployment had felt like an eternity. Her five years at her last corporate gig which filed for bankruptcy? Gone in a blink. Now here she was, back in the trenches, except this time, the battlefield was in her own damn home.

And her new boss? A fucking small business war criminal in a stupid polo shirt.

Tommy noticed the changes before she could say anything. He always did.

At first, it was little things—her griping about the eight-hour workday so passionately she could be in a BBC live interview, the way she’d passionately flip off at her monitor with both fingers almost every five minutes. Then come the muttered cuss under her breath (“yeah go fuck yaself, buddy”).

Today, after his rigorous training, Tommy caught his girl mid-performance. Fresh off a call and faux-strangling herself with both her hands wrapped around her neck, eyes rolled back and her tongue stuck out grotesquely as she let out a guttural whine, "Guh— just fucking diiiiieeeeee."

Tommy wasn't sure whether to laugh or be actually concerned. He walked to the doorframe leading to your office and leaned beside it with a curious frown on his face. A white towel wrapped around his neck, his shorts hanging low on his hips. His hair and body were drenched and glistening in sweat. White sando soaked and stuck to his skin. "The hell was that?"

She froze, hands still locked around her throat. Slowly, she peeled them away like she’d been caught mid-crime. Tommy had seen her do far worse shit than this even in her sleep. Nothing could embarrass her in front of this Adonis sculpted by the gods. "...Stress relief?"

Tommy’s mouth twitched. "Looks like a bad porno gag."

She groaned, slumping back in her chair and rubbing her temples. “Forget you saw anything, babe."

But Tommy didn’t move. He just studied her—the way her fingers drummed too fast on the desk, the way her knee bounced like she was revving for a fight. He wasn't letting this shit go anymore. "You’ve been like this for days," he said. “What’s goin’ on?"

“Nothing. Just work shit." She waved a hand, forcing a laugh. "The usual."

“Uh-huh." He pushed off the doorframe and walked inside until he was standing before her.

She could feel his radiating body heat on her face and his delicious post-workout masculine sweaty musk mixed with a hint of Irish spring filling her nostrils. God, she adored how good he smelled after fighting the heavy bag for an hour. It was the smell of heaven on earth which worked better than any calming sniffing stuff.

"Try again." He challenged. His tone was a low, steady I’m not fucking around tone—made her chest tighten. And like a dam breaking, it all pours out.

“My boss—” Her voice cracked. “He’s trying to fire this woman he introduced to me as ‘Bitch,’ told me to watch her on Zoom and document if she cusses so he can ‘build a case.’ So I called her instead. Know what she said? Poor woman has had four heart attacks, Tommy. Four. Last one landed her in the hospital with a bill she couldn’t pay because payroll held her check.” She dug her nails into her palms. “And that’s just the warm-up. He’s canning the entire senior staff to outsource cheaper labor, had me train managers on software I Googled and watched on YouTube yesterday, and now he wants my five-year plan because I’m ‘ambitious’ which just means he’ll work me to death for half what I’m worth.”

Tommy's jaw twitched. "Jesus."

"And get this,” she grins emptily. “Exactly a day after he laid out his grand plans of butchering up his company, his wife miscarried their baby.” She clapped her hands together like a magician. “Talk about karma biting him right in his anus. Who would want to have a father like him who exploits people for CHEAP, anyway?!" She choked on the guilt, hands flying up to cover her face. “I fucking celebrated his tragedy, Tommy. I'm a fucking monster!”

“Nah. Makes you human, babe.” Tommy gently peels her hands away from her face and puts them flat on his chest as he squatted down to her level.

She barrels on, voice cracking. “It’s a disaster, Tommy! The managers I ‘trained’ are supposed to train me now, except it’s been delayed for a week because they’re too busy doing payroll, HR shit, dispatch, and setting up hardwares for his three other failing businesses. There is nothing in between to fit me in for training. I'm fucked. And I actually have no faith left that it's ever gonna get better. This is a newly bought company, and he's handling everything so poorly. Expecting people to work on what's lacking and outsourcing manpower when he can't even pay proper professionals to get work done.”

Tommy stared. “That’s not a company. That’s a pyramid scheme.”

“I know!” She nearly screamed it. “But I can’t quit. Seven months of rejections. Seven. Now I’m here, and I wanna vomit every time I log in, but walking away means admitting defeat to every smug asshole who said I was too picky.”

Tommy continued to listen. He lets his girl spiral, lets her rant, lets her self-destruct in front of him like a building collapsing in slow motion.

"Maybe I should just snort ashwagandha up my ass, you know?”

Tommy's brows furrowed, “The fuck?”

“Numb myself to submission just until the year ends and I've settled my financial goals for this year. Suck it up and take it in the ass. For a fucking year. Just a year.” She ends up mumbling to herself as if she was brainwashing herself.

Her heart was pounding in her chest wildly. Thoughts completely scattered. Running like a Tasmanian devil without a sense of direction. Vomiting her words. “And I'm thinking that, maybe if this doesn't work out, then maybe I should be on my own and really focus on figuring things out myself, you know? Without inconveniencing others. Just me. Maybe that's what I need.”

Tommy stared at her like she’d just spat in his face. The rest of her rant he can take but bringing up another breakup over a stupid job that pisses her off? Hell fucking no.

"You done?" His sharp tone cut clean through her rant like a blade. “You really think you’re a burden to me?”

She opened her mouth, then shut it. Her jaw clenches to keep herself from crying like a kid.

“You don’t get to bail on us over some fuckin’ sleazebag CEO with a power complex. You’re smarter than that. Stronger than that.” His hand curled gently but firmly around the side of her neck, not squeezing, just holding. Steady. Keeping her head straight. “You’ve kept me alive, remember that? You held my drunk ass together after Iraq. You dragged me outta bed when I couldn't fuckin' move. So don't you dare act like this ain't worth my time.”

“I just—” she started.

He moved his hand from her neck to squeeze her cheeks lightly. Little puffy rabbit throwing a tantrum, he thought to himself. Resisting the urge to laugh and squeeze your cheeks some more and play with it.

“You just got your head so far up this job's ass you forgot who the fuck you are. My girl doesn't break up with me 'cause some fuckwit can't run his company."

She averts her eyes away from him, lightly pouting as she listens to what she already knows but somehow always manages to go over her head.

“Look, babe. You want money? We've got our savings. And I'm winning that damn fight and laying you down on our winnings. You want purpose? I’ll help you find it. But you don’t get to act like I picked the wrong girl. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And I’ll be damned if I let you forget who the fuck you are.”

She looks up at him, her brows furrowed, eyes thickly glazed with tears about to pour down her face and her mouth quivering until a tear spills. The fuck was she thinking she'd be better off without him?

Tommy thumbs them away. His girl slightly leaning into his calloused touch against her warm soft face. “C’mon,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “You think I don’t know what it’s like? To hate yourself for needin’ help?”

She shakes her head, but he doesn’t let her look away.

“After Paddy died,” he says, “I drank ‘til I couldn’t stand. You remember?”

It still stings her heart as she remembers. The nights she’d find Tommy slumped against the bathroom door, the way he’d snarl at her to ‘leave him the fuck alone’ right before he’d collapse into her arms.

“You stayed,” he says simply. “Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Her throat burns. “That’s different.”

“Bullshit.” His grip tightens on her face just enough to make her focus. “You think I give a damn about your paycheck? I slept in my car for two years before us. We’ll survive.”

Her heart warms.

Then he chuckles as one of his many favourite memory of theirs surfaced his head. “You remember how we met?”

She blinks. “Yeah. The office parking lot. You in your rusted-out Charger and me always parking my Honda near yours just to take the chance at you finally robbing me, then slashing me to death before I make it inside the building.”

-----

Flashback:

It was an ungodly hour past midnight and it was cold as hell and lightly snowing. Her fingers are numb. She rushed to her car which was the only one remaining at the parking lot along with the other banged up Charger that lives on the same spot. She turns her in the ignition which only gave her—ticktickticktick—but the engine won’t catch.

She banged her forehead against the steering wheel out of frustration—“Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck!”—just hard enough to feel the poking sting in her already pounding head, but not hard enough to deploy the airbags. A knock on her window nearly launched her into orbit.

The hobo, the one who lived in the rusted-out Charger two spaces over, was crouched beside her door, his scowl visible through the glass. Up close, he was younger than she’d thought. And bigger.

Jesus Christ, those shoulders...

She rolled the window down a millimetre. “If this is a robbery, I’ve got $12 and a granola bar.”

He blinked. “Your battery’s dead.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Fuck my fucking life.”

“Pop the hood.”

She hesitated. “...Are you gonna harvest my organs?”

“Lady,” he deadpanned, “if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t see me comin’.”

Fair point. He sounded smart and experienced enough for it, so there's always a chance then...

Ten minutes later, after expertly jury-rigging her battery cables, her car roared to life. She stared at him over the hood, snowflakes catching in his dark hair. “Thanks,” she muttered.

He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Get a new battery.”

“I’ll add it to the list,” she simply said, and drove off before she could say something stupid.

The next morning, she woke up extra early to prepare and pack breakfast for two with a thermos of coffee. She drove to work and parked across his car. Wordlessly handing him through the driver's window her offering and token of appreciation in the form of a bag filled with packaged homecooked meals for the day on his windshield the next morning. He drinks and eats them all and doesn’t say a word but that evening.

Her wipers are cleared of snow when she left the office building late at night.

-------------------end of flashback-------------------

His thumb traces her jaw. “Then you started leavin’ cooked meals in my car. ‘Accidentally’ buying two coffees. Naggin’ me to get my shit together like a pissed-off fairy godmother.”

She snorts. “You hated me.”

“Yeah and you didn’t give up.” His grip tightens. “So why the hell would I?”

She opens her mouth to argue, but he cuts her off with a kiss. Hard and tenderly scalding. Her heart grew tender as she kissed Tommy back. Too tender that it ached. She questioned if it was possible to love someone too much.

Indeed, it was.

“Quit the job. Or not, but always keep the fight.” He pulled away, his forehead pressed against hers. “Just stay, okay? Don’t act like I’m doin’ you some favor by toleratin’ your ass. You’re it for me, baby.”

For a moment, she settles. Slumping towards him, letting out the heaviest sigh she's ever let out in a while. It felt good to lean onto Tommy's unit of a body and have him hold her. Warm and strong. All hers. "God what the hell was I thinking saying all that shit. I'm sorry, baby”

Tommy exhales through his nose, the fight draining out of him as she slumps against his chest. His fingers thread through her hair, blunt nails scraping lightly against her scalp in that way he knows settles her. Her eyes rolling back from the hypnotic sensation.

“You weren’t thinkin’,” he mutters. “That’s the problem.”

She lets out a muffled weak laugh. "Oh really? I must’ve made all of my meltdowns up for fun then."

“Nah. Just somehow always forgettin' who the fuck’s in your corner.”

"I hate that you're right."

"I know."

------original end but here's an extended cutie pie version--------

She tilts her head back to look at him. Admiring her past, her present, and her future. “These thoughts got mean hands sometimes. Or I might be two days away from my period. God, I haven't even checked my calendar.”

Tommy’s mouth quirks. “I'd give it an early jumpstart if you want.”

She snorts, swatting his shoulder. “You’re disgusting and a freak.” Then she leans in to plant a brief kiss on his mouth. “And I'm the luckiest girl to have you.”

Tommy doesn't let the kiss end. He deepens it, biting her lower lip just hard enough to make her gasp, then sweeping his tongue against hers like he's chasing the taste of her guilt and turning it into something sweeter. When he pulls back, her lips are swollen, her eyes glazed with sweetness. It made Tommy's heart ache too in the most pleasant way. All that he sees and holds right now-- all his. Forever his.

"Shower," he orders, already hauling her up by the thighs.

She yelps as he tosses her over his shoulder, her office chair spinning away behind them.

"No!" She kicks halfheartedly. "Put me down, you sweaty caveman! I didn't even get to properly sniff you!”

Tommy barks a laugh, swatting her ass as he carries her toward the bathroom. "The fuck's wrong with you?"

“You smell good," she grumbles, nose pressed against his damp shoulder blade. "Like... salt and violence and man."

"Yeah?" He kicks the bathroom door open. "Tell me that when I'm elbow-deep in your pussy. Fuckin' weirdo.”

“Oohh now we're talking.”

—FIN—

A/N: OOOHHHH DAAAAMN CAN I HAVE THIS SHIT TOO PLS T_T sooo anyway I've got a smutty alternative of this bc Tommy after training is charged to the heavens and he's got a lot to give especially to his girl. Lots of discipline and lots of load. I'll publish it a bit later for the freaks xx Just gotta sleep first.

Thanks so much for reading my stuff <33

#tommy riordan conlon #tommy conlon #warrior #tom hardy #tommy riordan x reader #tommy riordan x you #feveredvisions SFW #warrior tommy conlon #tommy conlon x reader #tommy conlon imagine #tommy conlon fanfic #tommy conlon fluff

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mxtantrights · 1 year ago

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no ordinary human

a/n: okay so after this, will be a final part. I didn't have any idea y'all would like it this much but thank you so much for the notes and the comments! fair warning since it's gonna end soon, buckle up because I wanna give you some angst. I hope you enjoy!

The wind feels good against your skin. You hadn't been able to just sit down and relax for a while now. And by a while you mean three years. That's how long you've been here for.

Three years of living in another place and longing for home.

Three years of several unanswered questions.

You lean your head back and close your eyes, holding your arms out. Work had been busy these past few weeks. And you haven't taken any time for yourself in between that and trying your best to understand your place here.

You don't notice that someone is behind you until they finally speak up.

"I hope you don't think you can fly."

You don't jump at the sound of another voice though. No, because you're technically still living in a nightmare. Not a lot can scare you anymore.

You turn around and find the source of the voice.

"Amren, I don't think I can fly." you answer.

"Good, because I have a question for you."

"Go ahead."

"Which one will you choose?" she asks.

You clear your throat. You know exactly what she's talking about. Or, you know who she's talking about. You've had this dilemma for more than a year now.

When Eris visited you for the second time, it was a few months after he first met you. He apologized and told you that he was trying his best to help you. You took it at face value and accepted it.

But you didn't, well you couldn't, forget that feeling deep inside of you. That he was lying but you still trusted him. Even though you didn't know him.

It's not until the third visit that you inquire a bit more about him. He seemed surprise that someone would ask about him. That someone would have questions for him.

He seemed to answer truthfully and politely. And he even ask your some questions of his own. Not that many, and they were merely basic ones.

But after that third visit he seemed to visit more often. Even if it was a quick drop in to ask how you were doing. He showed up almost every Seven days to see you. Even though he had not progress on getting you back home.

The two of you fell into a routine. Sometimes he'd bring little trinkets. Other times he'd teach you something about the current world you're living in.

It was something delicate between the two of you. You'd be a bit mad to say that you didn't find him attractive when you first met him. But that feeling only grew the more you spent time with him. He was infectious.

Sometimes he would smile and you would think that he never done it before. That he's not used to it, but he does so indoor presence which makes you feel special.

"Well, who says I even have to make a choice? Maybe none of them think of me that way. After all I'm just an ordinary human." you say.

Amren scoffs, "No you're not an ordinary human. And these aren't normal circumstances."

"Even if I agreed with you, for a moment, they were my friends first. I wouldn't want to ruin that."

"Azriel liked you from the moment he saw you, he just didn't want to say anything."

That stuns you. Amren takes in the look on your face and you try your best to reign it in. But you can't and she can't help but to laugh at you.

"Oh between the little things he does and how he speaks to you, you didn't put it together?" she asks you.

For three years Azriel has been a sort of unspoken calm in your world. From the moment you met him and he helped to get you out of Beron's hold. Of course you didn't trust him, or any of them, for the first four months.

But at some point you did. And it wasn't because of some nice gesture or fancy gift, though they did all try those routes. Azriel was the only one to realize what you needed without asking. Space.

It wasn't until one night you woke up from the worst nightmare you ever had since arriving in their world, that he denied you your space. You were clawing at your skin and screaming in your sleep.

He had jumped in, waited for you to wake up and calmed you down from there. You never had a nightmare after that.

Azriel worked his way into your life unconsciously. Whenever Amren couldn't train you, he would. And he wouldn't hold back either. No matter how many times you told him that you were still human.

Somewhere along the lines you became friends. He'd hangout with you once or twice a week, work schedule permitting. And he would invite you to family dinners sometimes.

When you decided to move out and get a place on your own he was the first one to support you and help you find a place. He helped you move and even offered to stay a couple of nights with you if you wanted another soul in the house to talk to.

He visited the most out of everyone. Always dropping by, always around to talk.

Azriel and you didn't get too deep. You didn't have to, really. It was like the two of you understood each other. The gaps of silence between the two of you were never awkward, they were welcomed.

"Why wouldn't you tell me this before?!" you ask incredulously.

Amren rolls her eyes, "You're not a child. Neither are they. And anyways there are other circumstances that you don't know about."

"What other circumstances are there? "

Amren sighs.

"I really think you should talk to the two of them about this." she answers.

"You brought it up!" you say.

"I know, because it was pestering me. But now I realized I opened a box that wasn't mine." she replies.

"Are they here?" you ask.

She nods her head, "Yes. In the ballroom talking to each other. Which is a sight in itself."

You clear your throat, trying to muster the courage needed for what is bound to come next. And you walk out of the terrace. You bid Amren a goodbye as you step inside.

Almost as if they're waiting for you, the both of them stand by the front door. They turn to face you when you enter the room. You try to not let the nerves over take you as you walk over to them.

Once you're in their vicinity, you speak. Or you're going to, but they both beat you to it.

"We need to speak to you." they say a the same time.

Eris opens the front door and beckons your forward. You say nothing as you walk through the door. As you walk and walk down the long hallway to your old room, you can hear their footsteps behind you.

It takes a few more moments before all three of you are in a room. You take a seat on the bed and look at the both of them before you. The both of them look like they are trying to figure out who is going to speak first.

The shadowinger crosses his arms over his chest.

"I do have to confess something to you." Azriel says.

Your eyes go wide. You wonder if he was okay with just confessing his feelings in front of Eris. Surely he knows that you and Eris are tiptoeing a not so friendly line too.

"The reason why I come around more than the others, it's because your'e different. I haven't met anyone like you and the feelings I have for you are not what I'm used to." he continues.

You nod along, "You have feelings for me?"

"Yes. That's what I'm saying." he agrees.

Your eyes flutter over to Eris, who doesn't look shocked at all. You're a bit confused.

"And you?" you ask him.

He smirks, "I have feelings for you too. A bit different than what he feels, some might say stronger-"

Azriel nudges Eris. The red head lets out a breath.

"But I haven't been forthcoming to you, since we've met." he says.

"about your feelings?" you ask.

"We didn't meet for the first time in this room. We met earlier, when you first got here." Eris answers your question.

You stand from your seat.

"You met me when I got taken?"

"No, after. When you ended up in the autumn court. I took you in." Eris confesses.

"No you didn't, I would remember-" you cut yourself off.

You remember having that conversation with him a while ago. How he has certain powers. Mind tricks. All certain things he can do to person's mind. Especially to a human mind, untrained and fragile.

"You knew your father had me and you did nothing?" you whisper, mostly to yourself.

Eris steps forward but you hold out your hand. The flash of hurt that crosses his face is palpable. You don't like seeing him hurt but after hearing what he just said, and all that comes with it, you can't find it in yourself to stop it.

"I couldn't go against him, I told you that I have plans to remove him." he tries to explain.

You nod sourly, "And why let a silly human girl get in the way of those plans."

"I don't think that." Eris tries to correct you.

But you can't get another question out of your head. You look at Azriel and he's looking at your already. Face stoic. No emotion behind his eyes. He just confessed to having feelings for you but he looks so different right now.

"You knew." you say to him.

He nods once, "I did."

"And you said nothing."

"It wasn't my place-" he starts.

"Oh my god! I can't believe this, I just fell for it. I actually fell for two people who lied to my face every single day. Since I landed here I've been a pawn and I still am."

"You're not-" Eris starts.

"I am! I still am. Why did you even tell me any of this tonight?" you ask out of breath.

Eris looks over at Azriel. The shadowsinger uncrosses his arms from his chest. They both look at you then.

"We think there is a way to send you home."

#acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar #azriel iamgine #azriel x reader #Eris imagine #Eris x reader

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messedupfan · 2 years ago

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Chapter 7

Summary: Wanda receives a notice from the Homeowners Association. Y/n goes on a first date with Daisy. And Rachel has her first secret from her parents.

A/N: Yay! Another chapter!! So happy to be writing for this series again. Ugh it was a rough few months but I'm finally getting back on track! Hope y'all enjoy this chapter! Please lemme know in the comments! Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Wanda mutters to herself as she reads the letter that was taped to her front door. With everything going on, this has to be the cherry on top. She hates living under a homeowners association. She submitted a thorough request for the expansion that she thought was going to get the approval from them. But instead, she was given a rejection with a notice that someone from the association was going to drop by to review the damage and give her a deadline to have it fixed with the original blueprints. She can't even add windows.

She calls Pietro as she angrily gets into her car to update him in the bad news. “I fucking hate that place,” Pietro says. “Alright well, you tried. I will let Y/n know and cancel a few orders for materials. I'm sorry they rejected you,” Pietro sighs on his end.

“Thank you for all of your help,” she ends the call and continues driving to pick up her boys from their sleepover.

Pietro calls you through the radio to meet him at his office whenever you have a chance. You let him know that you will and when your lunch break comes around, you head to his trailer. You're curious as to why he would need to talk to you. The construction team is ahead of schedule and as far as you know, way under budget. Then you think that maybe Wanda told him about your sleepover and worry that he might've misunderstood his sister.

You knock on the door to his onsite office and he shouts that the door is unlocked. You open the door and climb in. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah,” he shuts his laptop to focus on you and you begin to worry that he's going to tell you to stay away or something. “Wanda's request for the expansion wasn't approved. We have to undo all of the work we started and put it back the way it was.”

You're relieved that the chat isn't about your night but you're upset by the news. “She can't fight back on this?” You ask as you think of the ways that Wanda could get what she wants.

“She could, but it didn't sound like she had the energy to. And since we don't own the home there's nothing we can do about it.” Pietro explains. You nod with a deep breath and tell him that it sucks before leaving the office promising that you'll see him tomorrow.

After work you send Wanda a quick text letting her know what you think about the situation. When she doesn't respond, you assume it's because she's busy with the boys. Instead of checking your phone every five seconds, you get ready for your date. You shower and put on the nicest clothes that you own. You spend time making sure your hair looks perfect and smelling good.

You drive to the address that Daisy gave you, it isn't Phil's house and you're curious why she's staying somewhere else but when she gets in the car she explains that she doesn't want her dad to know anything about her dating life unless it's someone worth mentioning. “That's pretty much what any single parent does,” you say with a small laugh.

“I know, my friend comes from a broken home. I just thought after a few bad attempts of bringing people to meet my parents it would be best to have my own place when I was in the position to do so.” Daisy says as she fixes her makeup in the sun visor mirror. “You look amazing by the way. I had no idea that you cleaned up so well.”

You smile as you take a moment to look at her during the stop light. “Thank you, I try. You are stunning, Daisy. I think I might lose you at some point tonight. I don't know how anyone will be able to look at anything else.”

Daisy tries to hide her blush as she holds a seriousness in her eyes, “I don't care about anyone else. I only want your attention.” You start to lean in to kiss her but the car behind you honks the horn and you realize that the light is green. “Keep your eyes on the road. Wouldn't want to end up in the hospital on our first date.” She places her hand on your thigh, startling you, and squeezes.

“Woah,” you say as you take her wrist and pull her hand off of you. Instead you hold it in your hand and drive with the other. “How was your day?” you ask in order to start some sort of conversation. The two of you find something to talk about the entire way to the restaurant, easing the nerves that had been eating at the both of you.

When you're seated you notice a couple of guys looking over at your table but you don't think much of it. “Oh this pasta sounds good but so does this one,” Daisy says as she points them out on the menu in front of you.

“They do sound pretty appetizing. How about I order one and you order the other and we split it, so we can try both?” You suggest.

Daisy scrunches her face and denies the idea. “Actually, I think I'm going to get the steak,” she says as she browses the menu more. You nod and start to look for something else on the menu.

After the both of you have ordered you're left staring at each other, sipping your drinks. “Can I ask why you wanted to go out with a single parent?” You finally pose the question that has been haunting you since last night.

“I have always kind of wanted to date you,” she shrugs. “You’re good looking, kind, funny, wise, and have a good heart. What more could a girl ask for?”

You fail at hiding the affect her words have on you and grin as you shake your head. “That is a really sweet answer but I'm trying to figure out what you want from dating me. I mean, I have a daughter and she will always be my number one priority. I know that many people aren't okay with that and-”

“I’m not one of them,” she interrupts as she lays her hand on the table top for you to take. You place your hand on her wrist and the two of you hold each other like this from across the table. “I’ve met Rachel. You've had me babysit her in the past. She's a great kid and I love her. I don't blame you for putting her first. In fact, I respect you for it.”

You fill with relief at her words and nod, “Thank you, I just wasn't sure. I mean, you're in your early twenties. You should be young and free and not dating someone like me.”

Daisy shakes her head, “You're not some decrepit person that can't leave the nursing home. You're still young and free and in your twenties. I don’t know what you think people my age do but I've dated plenty of them. None of them want a real connection outside of physical. Honestly, I'm ready to start thinking about settling down with someone. Build a life, y'know?”

You nod and bite your tongue to keep from pointing out how young she is to start thinking about that stuff. You're in no position to say anything because you don't regret the decisions you've made and you know that at eighteen you wouldn't hear that kind of advice. By twenty-two you probably still wouldn't have listened.

Halfway through what turns out to be a quiet meal, you excuse yourself to the restroom to give yourself some space and a pep talk to stop being so awkward. While you're exiting, your phone starts ringing and you answer when you see that it's Wanda. “Hey you,” you greet as you lean on the wall near the door. “How's your night going?”

“It’s going alright,” Wanda says as she puts the clean dishes away. “Did Pietro already tell you?”

“Yeah,” you say sadly. Someone asks if there’s a line and you shake your head and point to the phone. You move a little further away from the door. “How bummed are you about it?”

Wanda sighs, “Pretty bummed but the boys are home tonight so I can’t drink about it. Which is for the best. Don’t want to start that bad habit.” She starts to wipe down her counters. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much, just having dinner with an old friend,” you say as you glance around the wall to see if Daisy is okay. She looks bored and picks up her phone.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry for interrupting,” Wanda says.

“Don’t be,” you assure her, “I could have not answered, you know? It’s not your fault.”

“That’s true,” she drags out the word in confusion. “Do you need me to come up with an excuse for you? I can have you out of there so fast, no questions asked.”

You laugh at the offer, “No, it’s uh, it’s going.” You notice Daisy checking her watch and looking around the restaurant. You sigh as you figure that you’ve been away for too long. Are you avoiding her? You don’t know. “Which I probably should too. I think I’ve been gone too long, I don’t want her to think I’ve ditched her.”

“Oh my goodness! You’re on a date!” Wanda gasps loudly. “You’re an idiot, go back to her. Don’t tell her you took a phone call either. Just say it was an embarrassing bathroom issue or something just… shit, hang up already!”

You can’t help but laugh at Wanda as she rambles on, “Arlight, I’ll tell her all about my explosive bathroom episode.” Wanda makes a noise but tells you that it's perfect. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say as you end the call and walk back to the table. You feel guilty when Daisy’s eyes shine with relief and so you start rubbing your stomach. “I don’t want to be gross but that food went right through me!” You joke and Daisy laughs telling you that it’s fine. “So, are you thinking about having dessert here or should we go somewhere else?”

Daisy hums in thought and reaches across the table for your hand which you allow her to take, “Depends, do you have any dessert at your place?” she asks flirtatiously, almost causing you to have a coughing fit.

You clear your throat a couple of times as you start to avoid her gaze a bit in order to come up with a proper response. An easy let down that will have her laughing instead of feeling rejected. “Well, I don’t know whatever lies Steve might have told you, but I don’t put out on the first date.” Daisy is confused for a second before she bursts out laughing. You join her a little as you’re able to look at her again.

“Ok, I have to admit. I was kind of testing you with that question and you passed with flying colors,” she says once she has settled down, you let her know that it’s a relief. “I’ve heard of this twenty-for seven cupcake ATM machine and I’ve been dying to try it but haven’t had the chance. Do you think we could do that?”

“Absolutely! Rachel loves that thing,” you say as you start to flag down the waiter to get some to-go boxes for the rest of the food on yours and hers plates. When the bill is settled, you and Daisy head over to the nearest cupcake ATM and you help her learn how to use the machine. She takes videos to share on her social media and even a few pictures with you to keep for herself. You don’t ask why she doesn’t post them because you’re happy to not have that conversation right now. The two of you walk and talk while you eat your cupcakes. She is a bit more relaxed and you have to admit that so are you.

When the date has come to an end, you walk her to her door and wish her a goodnight. “Wait,” she stops you from leaving. “I know you don’t put out on a first date, except for Steve Rogers apparently,” you laugh a little at her statement. “But um, gosh I’ve never had to ask this before.” Daisy blinks a few times before gathering up the courage to ask, “Will you kiss me before you leave?”

You are surprised by the request but it is a date after all. “Yeah, sorry,” you say as you step closer to her. This was weird, you’ve never been asked to kiss someone unless there was tension and right now there wasn’t any. You close your eyes as you lean in and kiss her on the lips. It turns out to be a decent kiss but it doesn’t have you craving more. It’s been a long time since you’ve craved someone. At this point you’re convinced it’s just you because Daisy goes in for more when you try to break away. You kiss her once more to try and clear your head but it still doesn't feel right, so you really take a step back. “I have an early day tomorrow, I’m sorry. I’ll let you know when I’m available next.”

“Okay, yeah,” Daisy nods as she wipes her lips. “I’ll see you then. Or maybe you could stop by the Hub. We don't always have to see each other for dates, you know.” You agree and say that you'll try to stop by without promising too much. “Have a good week with Rachel.” She says with a sweet smile.

“Thank you, I will,” you smile back and walk away.

The next morning you go to Jean’s house to pick up Rachel. While you're waiting, you chat with Jean for a bit about nothing important until you notice her acting a little funny. You ask her what's up. “Nothing, nothing, I don't know anything about anything.”

You shake your head and ask in a low tone to keep Rachel from hearing, “Great, who told you about my date?”

“No one,” she says as she fails to hold back her grin and you ask again. “Okay, it was Anna,” she confesses. You drop your head as you shake it again. “In her defense, it's your fault that you chose my favorite restaurant to take her to.”

“Excuse you, I believe I won that restaurant in the divorce,” you say back lightly instead of reminding her that it was your favorite restaurant first.

“Whatever, I was craving it last night and so we got a pick up order and she saw you when she was picking it up,” Jean finished the story. “She’s cute,” she says next and you take a slow breath.

“She took a picture?” you rub your face, upset by the lack of privacy in your life lately. You never signed up to be a celebrity.

“What? You think I was just going to believe her when she said that? I needed proof!” Jean exclaims, causing you to tell her to quiet down. “Sorry,” she grimaces. The both of you wait to hear any sign of Rachel before continuing. “So, how'd it go?”

“It went,” you reply.

Jean rolls her eyes, “Come on, you can do better than that!”

You sigh and sit up as you think about how to describe the date to your ex-wife. “It was good. A little bit awkward. She’s had a crush on me since she was seventeen, so it's-”

“Hold on what,” Jean stops you with concern and fear in her eyes.

“Oh! Sorry, she's twenty-two, completely legal. Um, remember Phil's daughter? She used to babysit Rach before she went off to college?” You try to jog Jean’s memory and it takes her a second to process. She pulls her phone out to look at the picture again and she starts to finally recognize her.

“Oh?” she says as she straightens up and scowls at the picture. “She looks… grown up,” she says slowly.

“Yeah well, she asked me out and Kate kind of encouraged me to say yes. Then I talked to Phil about it and he seemed to be somewhat okay about it,” you clear your throat as you shift uncomfortably from the lack of playfulness from Jean. “It’s not weird… is it?”

Jean shakes her head, “Just, please tell me that you didn't find her attractive when we had her babysit for us when we were doing couples therapy.”

You pinch your eyebrows together and frown, a little offended by the accusation. “I didn't know her when we were married,” you state first as you try to remember that first year that you worked at the bar. You know that you started there at twenty-one but you don't remember hiring Daisy then or even meeting her. Did you?

“Well, that's kind of a relief, ” Jean mutters. “You got the job working for her dad to help us pay the therapy bills remember? And he offered for Daisy to watch Rachel when we needed,” now she is trying to jog your memory but as you've pointed out before, you don't really like to think back on that year. You shake your head as you come up blank. Is Daisy a year younger than you originally thought she was when you met her? The math isn't really holding up here.

“That doesn't make sense, she said that she had a crush on me when she was seventeen. When we met,” you say. “She would be twenty-one now if we met when I was twenty-one.” You try to understand what Jean is saying.

“Honey, her birthday is July second, she turned twenty-two only weeks ago. And you’ll be turning…” she draws out the end to let you catch up.

“Twenty-eight this year,” you conclude as it all starts to make sense now. “Huh, I really should have paid more attention in school.” Jean laughs because she tried every year to get you to focus more on school instead of her or the next get rich fast scheme you always had cooking up. “Anyway, I wasn’t paying attention to her in that way back then, I promise. It’s still kind of hard for me to think of her in that way. Except it’s not like I still see her as a kid I just think I see her as more of a friend,” you explain.

Jean nods, “So it didn’t go well.”

“I wouldn’t,” before you can say anything else, Rachel is running towards you with the things she wanted to bring with her. “Hey, munchkin!” You rise and greet her with a tight hug. She hugs you back just as tight and it warms your heart knowing that your daughter loves you. “Are you ready? Because we have to get to Ms. Wanda’s a little earlier today.”

“Yup, all ready! I have something I really want to show Billy and Tommy,” she says as she moves her bag around. “That’s what took me so long. Sorry, I needed to get it done before we left. I’ve been working on it all week.” You smile, impressed that she worked all week on something to show her friends.

“It’s okay, I got to catch up with mommy,” you say as you tug one of the shoulder straps on her bag. “Do I get to see what you made?”

“No,” she shakes her head before she turns around and opens the front door. “Let’s go!” She hops to your work truck and climbs in.

You laugh and look at Jean, “Have you seen it?”

She shakes her head, “Nope, she wouldn’t let me or Anna in her room because of it.”

“Wow,” you look at her from the entryway of the home and she is sticking her head out of the window calling for you to hurry up. “I can’t believe it, ten-years-old and she already has secrets from us.”

Jean shrugs, “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“I know but I was hoping for later. Much, much later,” you say as you wipe fake tears. Jean pushes your arm as she calls you ridiculous, you smile as you pull her in for a half hug. “I better go. I’ll see you next week.” She rubs your back and pats you a couple of times.

“You better update me on your whole cradle robbing situation,” she teases you.

“I should have seen that coming,” you walk away as she calls you a few more names, making you laugh all the way to the truck. Rachel asks what’s so funny. “Your mom is a weirdo,” you say. Rachel agrees and then says that momma Anna is even weirder and you have to refrain from laughing by telling her that’s not nice. She says it’s true and you cut the conversation by playing her music on the car stereo.

You and Pietro work fast in rebuilding the wall so that Wanda doesn't get into too much trouble with the representative from the homeowners association. It was turning out to be easier putting it back together than it was tearing it down. Of course though, now you don't have to worry about removing the wrong thing and causing the entire house to collapse. Everyone lucked out that you and Pietro hadn't started on expanding the floor yet. That would have been a little more difficult to fix up in the short window of time that Wanda was given.

When lunch comes you and Pietro scarf the food down in order to keep working. Especially since the new siding for the house got delivered to the job site across town and the two of you had to go pick it up. The original siding for the house was destroyed the previous weekend when the two of you finally made it that far. Pietro thought it would be best to order new material at the time anyway since they would need it to cover the new extension of the house.

All day you and Pietro are working inside and outside of the house to get the wall repaired with the material that you have available at the moment. Unfortunately, the beams that are needed in order to continue won't arrive until tomorrow. Which means that you are heading home earlier than expected. You slowly walk up the stairs to warn Rachel that you're packing up to leave but when you get close to the boy's room, you overhear them talking about some sort of plan.

You take a small peek into the room through the crack in the door that should have been wide open. Rachel was holding up a notebook as if she was presenting to the boys sitting in front of her. That's possibly what she was working on. You try to get a better look by opening the door a little more but it knocks over a noisy toy and causes the four kids to scatter and pretend to look normal. You give Rachel a weird look as she asks you if you're done working. You confirm and then leave her to collect her things so that you can do the same.

“Hey,” Wanda calls as you pass her office on the way back to the stairs. “Do you have a second?” You look around to be certain that she's talking to you before you approach. She isn't on the phone and no one else is in the hall, so it could only be you.

“Uh, sure,” you say as you step closer. You didn't get to interact much with Wanda today and you couldn't tell if it was you avoiding her or her avoiding you. Last night after the awkward kiss with Daisy, you couldn't help but compare how you wanted to kiss Wanda the night before. Then you started to think that maybe if you got to kiss her, maybe it would feel right. But you couldn't test that theory out yet. Not when you're in too deep with Daisy.

“Just for some peace of mind,” Wanda closes her laptop and focuses her attention on you. “And I don't want to make things awkward between us by saying this but, I feel like it kind of needs to be addressed.” Her rambling has you a little concerned but you let her continue. “I know we've said it to other people but I don't think we've really said it to each other. Um, we are just friends, right?”

There is a slight pain in your chest when she says that but it's the truth. “Of course,” you say confidently. “Yeah, we're just friends,” you state again, this time with an unintentional undertone of disappointment. You clear your throat and look back before stepping in the office a little more. “Why did you feel like that needed clarification?” You ask, against your better judgment.

Wanda looks around her desk as if she wrote the answer somewhere but not a single blueprint can help her. “No reason it's just, I don't know… well, so many people assume things and I just want to make sure we're on the same page. Yeah, that's it. Just, I don't know. Forget I asked,” you don't press for more because you can tell that part of her might feel the way that part of you feels but you aren't quite sure what to do with that feeling.

“Okay, well, we're done for the day, I was about to-”

“How was your date?” she interrupts and your eyebrows shoot up as your mouth shuts.

“Uh it was okay,” you say. You're not used to so many people knowing about your dating life. “I don't see a wedding anytime soon but it was good. We'll probably try to go out again when I don't have Rachel.”

Wanda nods, “That’s fun, that's fun. How um, how long have you been seeing her?”

“Yesterday was our first date, actually you met her. She was the waitress at the, ehem, the bar we met up at,” you say awkwardly. It feels like the two of you are trying to be friends. This conversation doesn't feel as natural as any other conversation.

“I remember her,” she is a little disappointed that you chose someone younger but it's not her life. She might only be feeling this way because her ex-husband cheated on her with a college student.

“Yeah, um,” you start to explain yourself once again but Rachel runs to your side and grabs your hand asking if you're ready to go. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell Wanda who stands from her desk and walks over to you and Rachel to give proper goodbyes. She hugs both of you separately and thanks you for all of your help. You finally make your way downstairs and decide to leave the tools since Pietro already put away the dangerous ones.

You leave the home conflicted by the conversation with Wanda but by the time you get home, you decide to not read into it too much. The two of you are friends and that's all you will ever be.

On Wednesday, the representative from the homeowners association arrives in the early afternoon to inspect the house. On Sunday you and Pietro were so close to finishing the wall but it was going to take another day or two. Wanda was fine with explaining to whoever she had to that it was going to be fine.

She was starting to get fired up again about it being her house so she should be allowed to do as she pleased. Especially when she received an email explaining that the appointment was rescheduled due to them wanting the entire house inspected. Which meant that she had to make sure the house was spotless. Especially the former man cave which she hasn't seen since Pietro destroyed everything. She hadn't known that you and him already cleaned up the mess until she made her way down there.

The space needed some dusting and vacuuming but beyond that, it was clean. Luckily Pietro only trashed the stuff in the boxes that didn't include the furniture or the television. So the room still looked pretty decent, better even without all of the junk on the walls.

As Wanda guided the woman around the house after she assessed the wall, she noticed that the woman was being a little bit flirty towards her. She wasn't sure if she was making it up or if she was misreading some of the woman's remarks. But Wanda was kind of into it. She hadn't been with a woman since her sophomore year of college. Raven Darkholme lived a couple doors down from hers and the two found themselves being left in the common area and locked out of their rooms often. One thing led to another and they dated for a solid six months before Wanda met Vision while taking his class.

“I don't see any issues here, Mrs. St-”

“Actually it's Ms. Maximoff,” Wanda corrects. “I’m not married anymore,” she adds although she wasn't sure if that was necessary information.

“My apologies, Ms. Maximoff,” the woman smiles and looks her up and down before continuing. “As I was saying, other than the obvious incident with the wall which you said you're having repaired, I don't see why my visit was necessary. But I can't deny that I'm not happy to be here.”

Wanda is starting to realize that it isn't in her head at all. “I must admit, I wasn't too thrilled about today, Ms. Romanoff. But it's been a relief knowing that my house is up to the HOA’s standards.”

“Look, I know that this is totally inappropriate and unprofessional but um…” the inspector grabs one of her business cards and scribbles down her personal phone number. “Call me, if you're interested in letting me inspect you.” She says flirtatiously as she hands Wanda the card. The brunette blushes as she tries to hide her grin. That was quite a line.

“I will keep that in mind, but you should know. I'm a mo-”

“Mother of two boys? Yeah, we covered that when we walked around upstairs,” she finishes Wanda’s sentence.

Wanda laughs as she is flustered, “Right, sorry, I'm just. Sorry, this hasn't happened to me in um years.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Natasha says. The two stand in the living room space staring at each other until the blonde's watch goes off, reminding her of her next appointment. “I better get going. I have another inspection in fifteen minutes. I'll let the board know that you're clear and that they don't need to send anything else. Call the business number on there when you have the wall finished and I'll send the paperwork to the board so that they'll leave you alone.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate that,” Wanda says carefully.

“It's my pleasure,” Natasha says as they walk to the front door together. “I hope to hear from you soon.” The woman walks away and this is one time that Wanda is relieved that her boys aren't here with her to witness that interaction. She shuts her front door and bites her bottom lip as she looks at the phone number on the card. Natasha even drew a little heart above the number. Maybe she is ready to start putting herself out there. This just wasn't what she ever imagined.

Chapter 8

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austinslounge · 8 months ago

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You'll not have me sympathizing with that ugly ass bitch who is holding Austin's dog hostage all these years. Not that bitch who made shady comments when he was getting dragged for his voice. Not that bitch who was abusive to him! I don't like Kaia either but y'all don't bring Vanessa here to justify your hate towards her.

I love it when complete strangers on the internet who weren't even in a relationship try to re-write history or think that they know a couple's entire relationship based on rumors they've heard on the internet. 🙄

Listen, I go by an entire picture and things that I've seen with my own eyes in order to make up my judgment about someone, because people are usually multifaceted, and typically are not all angel or all devil. Most people are very nuanced and have many different levels to their personality.

Take a seat, because I have lots to say.

1) First of all, Vanessa isn't "ugly". If anything, she's probably more naturally beautiful 👀

2) You know that Vanessa is holding Austin's dog "hostage" how exactly? 🥴 Were you actually there when she and Austin had a conversation about the dog? 🤔 Let's just use common sense here for a second. If anything, she probably kept the dog after the breakup because she knew that Austin would be busy filming "Elvis" for months, and didn't want the dog to be jumping from home to home. No doubt, the dog grew very attached to Vanessa while Austin was busy working. Darla was living with Austin and Vanessa for years after his mother died, and it would have probably been more stable (and healthy!) for the dog to not be left for months without its owner. You do realize that Austin got sick right after "Elvis" filming ended, and then he also went right into MOTA filming right after right? If anything, Vanessa has provided a stable, loving home for the dog, especially since Austin doesn't have any immediate family members who could have watched the dog for him while he's busy filming on location. It's actually probably helped Austin that he doesn't have a dog to worry about or take care of as his sole responsibility while he's busy working and building his adult career in Hollywood.

3) Wrt to the shady comments.... I personally don't think that Vanessa should have been doing that. So I definitely agree with you there. I feel that when a breakup occurs in the public eye, it's best for both parties to take the high road and keep things civil. I don't condone Vanessa's shady remarks towards Austin or her petty behavior after the breakup. To me, it was dumb, unnecessary, and wasn't a classy way to handle a breakup at all. At the same time, I do recognize that people are only human, and that most of the "shade" she was throwing was coming out two years after they broke up, around the time that she was having to see him everywhere due to "Elvis" prep. Having to see an ex all the time after a breakup isn't always easy. To me, the fact that she was still triggered by Austin two years after a breakup reveals to me just how much she must have loved that man. You're not behaving that way unless you are HURT. The opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference. While I don't think Vanessa behaved her best during this time, I still recognize as a woman how it feels to go through a breakup. This was a man that she loved for nearly 9 years. Perhaps the breakup came suddenly? We weren't there. We don't know what transpired or what things were said when they broke up. I'm not making any excuses for her behavior, I'm just sharing a different pov. I still don't think she should have behaved that way -- especially towards a man that she dated and supposedly loved for so long. It was petty, it was immature, it was uncalled for, but at the same time, can we really say that we've never been hurt by a breakup before and behaved in ways that probably weren't our finest moments? 🤔

4) "Abusive"? So, you're choosing to believe one or two random reports on the internet which may (or may not) be true, over a span of a nearly 9-year relationship? 🤔 Do you really think Austin (a man who has plenty of options) would have been with Vanessa for nearly 9 years if she had really been an abusive girlfriend? Are we talking about the same Vanessa who helped Austin with his sick and dying mother? The same Vanessa who was always so super supportive of Austin so publicly, was over the moon for him when he got the Elvis role, and who always posted sweet msgs about him publicly on social media? The same Vanessa who threw Austin birthday parties? Do we also REALLY think that Austin's older sister Ashley would have been so close with Vanessa (even had her in her freaking wedding!!) if Vanessa had really had a history of being abusive and a jerk towards Austin? 🤔 Think about that for a second. Do you really think Ashley would still be following Vanessa on social media to this day if Vanessa had really done something so utterly bad to Austin during (and after!) their relationship? Do you think Austin's mother would have loved Vanessa if that were the case? Are we talking about the same Vanessa who seemed to love Austin to pieces and couldn't keep her hands off of him? The same Vanessa who was there for Austin through his depression, through his mom's death, who supported him with love throughout his career? The same Vanessa that Austin looked deeply in love with and actually seemed happy around? That one?

5) Nobody is bringing in Vanessa to justify their "hate" for Kaia. (I don't "hate" Kaia btw -- I just don't think she's the right match for Austin) Some people just notice the stark difference in how Austin looked with Vanessa for 9 years, vs how he looks with Kaia in his "less abusive" relationship. 🙄

Look, you don't have to like Vanessa -- in fact I completely understand why some fellow Austin fans might even dislike her (she's done a few side-eye worthy things over the years imo). But to paint Vanessa with a huge wide negative brush like she's some character villain in a movie is just weird to me.

People have ups and downs. Sometimes, people say and do things they don't mean. At times, couples have fights. It happens. We weren't in the Aunessa relationship. We don't know every single little thing that happened.

All I know is what I see with my own eyes, and to me (to me), Austin looked far happier with Vanessa for years (and even Lily Rose Depp) than he has looked with Kaia. JMHO

I know some fans want to villain-ize Vanessa in order to make themselves feel better about the breakup or about his current relationship, but I'm just going by the photo and video evidence, and there is nothing that I've seen that gives me the impression that Vanessa was "Abusive" towards him. And unless Austin himself comes out and says that about her, all we're relying on is hearsay over the internet, especially when we've never seen any photo or video evidence of the sort, nor seen anything in Austin's body language to imply that in all the years that they were together.

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smolwritingchick · 2 years ago

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Forced To Believe-Dean Ambrose x OC The Shield Story Chapter 1- So, you wanna wrestle?

Author's Note: When I first published the story, a lot of these scenes, including about the Indies were flashback scenes later in the story but I made this first chapter to be an introduction on how Melanie got started in wrestling and how she met Jon and so on. But if you want to just go straight to her debut in WWE, you can just proceed to chapter 2. :) Also a lot of these gifs and photos are not mine. Credit to all the owners.

Word count: 10,000+

Warning: And just a warning, she has an asshole boyfriend during the Indies and there is some verbal abuse in this chapter with him just to warn y'all. And he had cheated on her and so on.

Chapter Summary: A young Melanie looks to her cousin to get her a job so she can build money to begin wrestling. She proceeds to meet Jon Moxley and builds a strong friendship with him while thriving in CZW. She begins dating a fellow Indy wrestler who isn't all who he seems to be

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"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No!"

"Come on Mimi! I NEED~ this!" a 16-year-old Melanie pestered her big cousin.

She had been asking her 20-year-old cousin to pull some strings and get her a job so she could raise money to wrestle. It had only been a couple of years ago that she found out that the Ninth Wonder of the World, Chyna, is her cousin, and began to watch any type of wrestling she could. Whenever it was live on TV or tapes, she knew this was what she wanted to do.

"You are not messing up that face of yours." Mimi huffed, sternly gazing at her cousin, ignoring her pleading green eyes.

Melanie ran a hand through her straight, dark brown hair. What would it take for her to just say yes? She really wanted this.

"Please. I really want to wrestle. I need the money so I can start learning."

"Want." Mimi corrected, rolling her eyes.

"Need!"

"Ugh. Why don't you be a model like me? Or go into business for college just like your mom wants?"

"No way! I'm tired of people telling me what I should do in life. I know this is what I want to do. I've been watching the wrestling team at school, it's so awesome! Wrestling is great!"

Mimi scoffed. She couldn't believe her ears. "Oh ho ho...so the wrestling coach is responsible for this?"

"Well remember the time I had to stay after school to make up a gym class? That's when I saw the wrestling team up close and personal. He even has a couple students that go to local independent wrestling companies! Ain't that cool? Now come on! Do this for me! I do everything for you. Return the favor. I'll even pay you in back rubs or something!"

"You're gonna be the death of me...fine. I can pull some strings." Mimi sighed.

"YES!" Melanie jumped on her for a big hug.

"Ew! Get off of me! No touching!" Mimi shoved her off. "You owe me. You're lucky you have a cousin who models and knows people. Let's go."

Just a few days later, Melanie was already working as a waitress in a local restaurant thanks to Mimi pulling some strings. The employees kept a strict eye on her, since she was only 16, and were cautious about underage drinking since there was also a bar. But after a few months, she gained their trust. Melanie enjoyed the job and was very grateful. One step further until she could finally learn how to wrestle.

During one weekend, the restaurant was very busy and crowded as 18-year-old Jon Good, Cody Hawk, and a couple of his HWA (Heartland Wrestling Association) guy friends managed to take the last available table to celebrate a good day's work of wrestling.

"Laurer, take care of that table." The manager called before walking back into the kitchen.

"No problem!" The teen made her way over to Jon's table. "Hey, dudes. What would you like?"

Everyone made their orders and then she turned her attention to Jon. "And you?" she inquired kindly.

Making eye contact with the girl, he shrugged and scratched the back of his head. "Ah, just a beer." He replied in his slightly high-pitched voice.

"May I ask how old you are?"

"18..." he let out a sigh, awaiting rejection.

Melanie observed him for a while. He looked around her age and decided to give him a break. His group looked like they were celebrating.

She looked around and said in a low voice, "Okay, look I'll give you only two beers, max. But you gotta promise me that you won't drive if you drink these beers tonight, got it?"

Jon did a double-take at the female. He wasn't expecting that kind of answer. Nor kindness.

"A-all right. Thanks," he answered with appreciation in his voice.

"No problem, man," she replied and turned to Cody Hawk. "I'm guessing you're responsible for everyone, tonight. Make sure he gets home safely. Don't want the dude to get in trouble with the police for underage drinking."

Cody smiled and nodded. "Yes ma'am."

A couple months later, Melanie is back at the restaurant, working hard. She still was nowhere near the amount of money to get wrestling gear, lessons, and other things, but she was still going to be persistent. She knew it was going to be hard work. Heading over to a table, she noticed some familiar faces.

Cody Hawk looked up and observed her for a couple of seconds before something clicked in his brain. "Hey, I remember you. You told my boy, Jon, to not drink and drive."

A smile came across her lips as the fond memory popped into her head. "Oh yeah! Nice to see you, guys again! How have you been?"

"Great. I see you're still working here."

"Yeah, trying to save money to wrestle."

The word wrestle made Jon's ears perk up as he turned to study her. "Really? You wanna wrestle, huh?" Jon inquired.

Melanie nodded eagerly. "Definitely. My dream is to become a wrestler. Someone who can wrestle guys, not just chicks. I want to be taken seriously. Right now I'm trying to save up money to get the gear and learn. This job has kind of been helping, but I'm grateful that it's something." she shrugged but the guys listened intently, nodding at her aspiration in approval.

After making more small talk, she takes their orders. When she comes back, she gives them their beers and places a free beer in front of Jon. "This one is on me. Again, no drinking and driving, ya hear?"

Jon looked down at the drink, then back at her, surprised at the nice gesture. "Yes ma'am." he chuckled and thanked her as she took her leave.

"Wrestler huh? Hey, that's actually pretty cool, maybe we'll see her around one day." One of the boys said.

"She sounds serious." Another guy at the table commented.

"Very. We should give her a big tip." Cody suggested.

"Let's do it." Jon happily agreed.

After they leave, Melanie heads back to the table to clean up and sees a big lump under the check. She carefully opened it, and the sight caused her eyes to water.

"Oh my gosh." she chuckled while internally screaming in her head. She finally had enough money for the next steps to wrestle. How can she ever repay them for such a life-changing gesture?

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At the age of 21, in 2009, she managed to get a job at CZW, thanks to her high school wrestling coach, and began getting trained by Drake Younger. He was a CZW veteran and an awesome guy to be around. After he told her some good tips and advice on wrestling, she finally went backstage to walk around. She was nervous because this was her first time going to an independent wrestling company after her school wrestling coach got her there. She would be on her own and would have to fight her way to become a WWE Diva. It was her goal and she would have to make sure she put in a lot of effort.

She wasn't going to get into the WWE just because she was related to Chyna. You don't get a VIP pass like that. You need to work and that's what Melanie was happy about.

"Hi!" A female voice called out. Melanie turned around to smile. "Are you new?"

"Yeah. I'm Melanie Laurer."

"Hey, girl. I'm Chrissy Rivera. Nice to meet you." She gives her a friendly hug. "Aren't you related to Chyna?"

"Yep." Melanie grinned as they started to click.

"Wow! That's awesome! So are you wrestling or being a manager?"

"Wrestling."

"Really? This is going to be good. You're going to do just fine, here. Welcome to the CZW family."

"Thanks, I'm glad to be here."

"Hey, we should hang out tonight. The roster is going to a bar. You should come."

"Sure, that'll be great!"

"Sweet. Come on, I'll introduce you to the roster."

While Chrissy introduced Melanie to most of the roster, they were very welcoming towards her and couldn't wait to see her in action. After the icebreakers, Chrissy had to get ready for the show, so Melanie started to walk around again to get familiar with the surroundings. She was really happy to wrestle somewhere in her hometown in Philly. After thinking about CZW, her thoughts were interrupted after she saw a guy who was over six feet tall, and had dirty blond hair.

The guy's eyes light up. "It's you. I never got your name from the couple of times I saw you at the restaurant."

Melanie took another look at him and smiled. It was that guy she gave the free beers to. What were the odds of seeing him again?

"Melanie."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Jon."

Melanie stuck out her hand and shook his. "Nice to meet cha."

They start walking together. "You're something, you know that? You cared about me, although we were strangers. At first, I was like, this chick is cool as shit for giving me beer although I was 18. But to hear you tell Cody to make sure I get home safe, got to me. No other chick has said that to me. It's just the little things like that, I appreciate."

"Ah, it's not a problem. I should really be thanking you, Cody, and your friends for giving me that money so I can start training."

"Cody can see a great upcoming wrestler when he sees one. It looks like he has faith in you."

"I'm honored. So how long have you been here?"

"A few months. When do you start wrestling?"

"Next show in a dark match."

"Cool. I'll be seeing you in action, soon. You know the roster is going out to a bar, after the show."

"Yep. Chrissy told me."

"Are you coming? You should~" Jon nudged her with a boyish grin

"Hah hah. Yeah. Sounds like a plan."

"Awesome."

"So where are you from?"

"Cincinnati. You?"

"Ohio, huh? I bet you've been wrestling all over. I'm from Philly."

"Philly, huh? Nice. I'll catch you later. It's nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you again, too." Melanie watched him leave.

'I think I'm going to like it here.' she thought.

After that, Melanie sat in the crowd and was able to get an idea of CZW by watching the show. Everything was so intense, and it made her look forward to her debut even more. She admired the hardcore wrestling and how involved the fans were.

During the next show, Melanie went against a local female wrestler in a dark match. Her parents were there to watch despite reluctantly going to see her get hurt. Melanie lost her first match, but gained respect for her hard work and heart, to not give up so soon in the match.

After the show, Melanie packed up her gym bag and heard someone knocking on the door.

"Yeah?" She turned.

"Hey, sorry to bother you. Just wanted to say that you were great out there. Good match."

"Thanks! Hopefully, I'll win next time. I'm Melanie by the way."

"Greg. I was wonderin'...uh, you mind if I take you out to dinner, tonight? I'd love to get to know you more."

Surprised at the sudden question, Melanie thought about it for a few moments. "Yeah, why not."

'Next week'

Wearing dark blue skinny jeans, and a cut-up CZW shirt that stopped in the middle of her stomach, Melanie watched in the front row with disapproval on her face of Moxley screwing Devon Moore from winning Robert Anthony's CZW World Heavyweight Championship. Jon started bragging about being the best wrestler with Robert Anthony and being CZW Legends which made her shake her head. But then it caught Robert's attention and he pointed her out.

"Do you disagree toots?" Jon asked with a smug look.

"Chicks can't handle us." Robert bragged. Melanie's scowl made them laugh. "She better be glad we even looked at her because we're the best wrestlers in this company."

Rolling her eyes, she gives him the middle finger as the crowd 'ohs' and cheers. Jon and Robert chuckle to themselves before turning their attention back to Devon Moore who was down and out. As soon as they were about to attack him again, the Briscoe brothers came out to even the odds. They start arguing with them until Joker runs down the ring with a chair and starts attacking Devon and the Briscoe brothers. The crowd cheered as they threw out Moxley and the others out of the ring.

Jay Briscoe grabbed a mic and offered up a challenge to have all the titles on the line, in a match, next month.

"Hey Moxley, you're out of luck, buddy. You ain't got no title. You're just a goofy motherfucker." He exclaimed as the crowd cheered.

"Uncalled for!" One of the commentators said.

Melanie started laughing. Jay knew how to have the best one-liners.

"And what are you laughing at? Huh?" Jon walked over to her, towering over her since she was sitting down.

"A goofy motherfucker." She bluntly declared, slowly standing up. "Who else?"

"You're not even worth my time..."

"I believe that I am. I'll take you down anyplace, anytime." She shrugged.

"Do you know who you're talkin' to? I'm Jon Moxley." He began to get in her face.

"In one ear, out the other..." She looked at her nails as the crowd 'oohed'.

Fed up, Jon grabbed a fan's drink and dumped it on top of her head.

"What is he doing!?" One of the commentators exclaimed.

Melanie gasped and looked at her wet clothes as Jon laughed in her face. The crowd started chanting 'Kick his ass!' while Melanie tried to adjust her hair and clothes.

"Big-fucking-mistake!" she growled with rage and smacked him right across the face.

"Damn~!" The Briscoe brothers exclaimed as Jon stumbled back. The crowd went wild when Melanie jumped over the barricade and started unloading on Moxley, throwing in punches. Robert and Joker look on in shock as she gave Jon a kick out DDT on the ground.

"You're gonna get it now!" Robert yelled but she slid into the ring before him and Joker could get her.

Melanie grinned at what she had done and high-fived the Briscoe brothers.

"Do they know this woman!?" One commentator wondered.

Meanwhile, Moxley is helped up by Robert and Joker. He rubbed the side of his cheek and then the top of his head, glaring at the woman who assaulted him. She blew him a kiss and innocently shrugged.

"I think so but she made a statement, going after Moxley of all people. Is she nuts? She must be!" The second commentator declared.

"Allow us to introduce the new bombshell in CZW. Melanie!" Jay raised her hand as the crowd cheered. "Sorry Jon, but you got your ass kicked!" he laughed as the crowd agreed. Jon started yelling at them and began to get restrained by Robert and Joker. Melanie laughed at his struggle but then Jon broke free and slid into the ring. "Run Melanie, run!"

Melanie slid out of the ring and sprinted backstage with Jon tailing right behind her as the others followed them.

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'After the show'

Melanie was in a locker room, frowning at her phone.

"You all right?" Jon popped his head into the room.

"Yeah, fine. What's up?" She looked up from her phone.

"All right, what's wrong?" He pulled up a chair and sat in front of her. He could tell something was on her mind and he wasn't leaving until she was happy again.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Bullshit," he exclaimed and started staring at her until she gave him a valid answer.

"I hate it when you do that...you always know when I'm upset even if I try to hide it." she groaned and let out a long sigh. "My boyfriend canceled our date. We were supposed to go to a concert. He knows how badly I wanted to go to see my favorite band. And now I have no one else to go with. I don't want to go alone. Might as well sell these tickets..."

"Or...I could go with you," he suggested, raising his eyebrows.

Hearing his offer, her eyes lit up. "Really?" She started to grin.

"There's that grin I've been waiting for." A half smile came across his face. "Yeah, why not? I wouldn't mind going with you."

"Thank you! I promise you'll have a lot of fun." They stood up and she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Gross you're still sweaty." she laughed and released him.

"Shut it." He let out a laugh.

"My night just got better. But are you sure you want to go? I don't want you to think you have to go, to make me feel better." She brought up as she gave him a ticket.

Jon checked out the ticket before looking at her. "I like hanging out with you, Melanie. You're not one of those annoying ring rats, and you're someone I enjoy being around. Plus, I like the band."

"Thanks. It starts in two hours. We should get ready."

When the show was about to start, Jon and Melanie got to their seats which were near the stage but still in the middle of the crowd.

"I missed this. It's been a while since I've been to a concert. Hey, you ever crowd-surfed before?" she asked.

Jon shook his head, "Nah, have you?"

"Oh yeah! Consider this your lucky day. Come on." she grabbed his hand.

"Whoa, whoa, where are you taking me?" He let out a laugh.

"You and I are gonna crowd surf. It'll be fun."

"All right, I'll be a daredevil tonight."

"Good."

After the concert, Jon walked Melanie home. Ever since she and Greg started dating, she decided to move in with him. But it seemed like their relationship was a bit rocky now because he never wanted to do anything with her anymore. But she didn't want to worry Jon about that.

"That was awesome!" he shouted excitedly.

"Haha! Told you! I kind of thought you were having fun when you kept wooing and hollering." She giggled. Jon put an arm around her shoulders and started singing one of the band's songs, in a fake tone-deaf voice. Melanie started to laugh at his goofiness. "You're gonna wake up the neighbors."

"Ah, the hell with it." he carried on. She decided to join him, in singing the song until they reached Greg's apartment.

"That was fun. Thanks for hanging out with me."

"Ah, no problem. Wouldn't mind doing it again."

"Of course. You'll be my new concert buddy." She embraced him but the door opened to reveal Greg looking at them with an annoyed expression.

"About time you got home." Greg retorted, scowling at Jon.

Melanie sighed and released Jon. "Sorry, the concert went on a little longer than usual. Thanks for coming with me, Jon. I'll see you later." She smiled and headed inside

"Yeah..." Jon nodded and stared down Greg before he headed inside with her.

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After another show, Melanie grabbed her bags and met up with Jon, who was getting ready to leave.

"Hey, are you doing anything, tonight?" She asked hopefully.

"Nah, why?" he questioned as he put on his gym bag.

"I was wondering if you wanted to meet my parents and have dinner with us. They don't bite, I swear. My mom is the overprotective one, not my dad, he's the carefree type." She smiled, hoping he'd say yes.

Jon liked her sweet request but wondered if it would be a good idea.

"Uh...you sure about this?"

"Of course! It'll be fun." she guaranteed.

"All right, all right. I'll go. Just for you."

"Sweet!"

When they arrived at her parents' place, she walked inside with him.

"Melanie! You're home!" Jane, her mother, rushed over to give her a big hug and kiss on the cheek. "Oh, who is this?"

"Mom, dad, this is my friend, Jonathan Good. I met him a couple times when I was working, and recently reunited with him while I was starting out in CZW."

Her father, Diego, began to grin. "Nice to meet you! Melanie has told us all about you."

"She has?" Jon asked with surprise as Melanie quickly stomped on her father's foot.

"Hey!" Diego exclaimed

Melanie shot him a glare and cleared her throat. "Anyway, can he stay for dinner?" she asked

"Why not? The more the merrier!" Jane replied, looking overjoyed, and walked back into the kitchen.

"Dinner should be ready soon," Diego informed the two and walked upstairs.

Melanie sighed out of relief and gave Jon a low five. "Mission accomplished, they love you."

"Glad to hear. So...what have you been saying about me?" he nudged her

"Let's not get into that right now." She punched him on the shoulder.

"Uh-huh." He smirked

After dinner, Melanie went back to Greg's place and set down her bags. "I'm home!" She announced but didn't hear a response. "I guess he isn't here." She checked the time, seeing it was only 10:30. But then she started hearing weird noises in the bedroom.

"Don't let this be what I fear..." She muttered to herself and opened the bedroom door to see Greg sleeping with a local female wrestler. The sight made her sick to her stomach, and she couldn't control her anger anymore. "Are you fucking kidding me!?" She shouted.

The sound of her angry voice made Greg and the girl scramble out of bed.

"Mel, I can explain-"

"Explain!? You've got to be joking." She retorted. "Why the hell would you do this? Why would you- I can't. I'm fucking done. No." She tried to wipe her tears and stormed off.

Greg quickly got dressed. "Get out of here." He pushed the girl out of the apartment. He needed to fix this. He should've asked what time she was coming home. He couldn't lose Melanie. He was the next woman on his list to screw. And they just started dating. He really screwed up.

"Mel, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I promise." He tried to hug her as she struggled to push him away. "Please, I'm sorry! I'll change."

Hearing how sad his voice was, made her even more upset. It sounded sincere to her, but she failed to notice the fakeness of his voice, and she unfortunately decided to take him back.

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'To The Ring'

At a CZW arena, Moxley walked out with a cocky grin on his face. He had a microphone in his hands and went straight over to Melanie's parents, who were in the crowd to watch their daughter in action.

"Well, well, look who it is. Melanie's parents. I always think about why and how you raised a bitch of a daughter." He disrespected them as the CZW crowd booed. Jane's jaw dropped, shocked at the words coming out of his mouth, while Diego didn't look too happy.

"How dare you!?" She shouted and gave Moxley a stinging slap to the face, earning cheers from the crowd. "How dare you talk about our daughter like that!?"

Chuckling, Moxley responded, "Is that all you got, grandma? You're a bitch just like your skanky daughter. And I bet you're a-"

His speech was cut short when Diego's fist met his jaw. The crowd went wild and chanted 'Holy Shit'

"Don't you ever disrespect my daughter or my wife ever again! You hear me, amigo?" Diego's thick accent came in.

Pissed, Jon struck Diego with a cheap shot and tossed him over the barricade, as Jane screamed. The crowd continued to boo Moxley as he dragged him into the ring.

"Stop! Stop!" Jane pleaded, scared for her husband

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Jon shouted back at her, in a harsh tone, making her quiet. He got in the ring and began stalking Diego from behind. But before he could attack, Melanie rushed down the ring, earning loud cheers. She ran as fast as she could as she slid into the ring. But unfortunately, Jon escaped before she could get to him. The crowd booed and chanted 'Pussy' at him.

"Are you friggin' kidding me, right now? You're really gonna do this?" She glared at Jon before helping her dad.

"Thank goodness for Melanie, coming down before Moxley did something worse." One of them commentators said.

'To Greg's Place'

"Can you fucking cook me something, already? You're taking too long." Greg grumbled as he watched TV in the living room. Melanie had made him a chicken pot pie but dropped it in front of him, after tripping over his shoes. Greg rolled his eyes. "You are such a stupid screw-up. Pick that shit up and cook me another plate."

Melanie sighed and cleaned the mess up. "Can't we just order takeout?"

"Listen you little bitch, I fuckin' said make me another plate, got it?"

Melanie quickly nodded and went back into the kitchen, wiping the tears from her face. Lately, it seemed like Melanie was the only one who wanted to be in the relationship now. He said he would change, but it seemed like he had gotten worse. It was starting to frighten her. But she thought he would change, so she decided to continue to stay.

Later on, Greg stepped out and Melanie's phone started to ring. "What's up, Jon? You all right?"

"Yeah, uh, you mind if I crash at your place? I don't think I'll be able to make it to Chrissy's." He sounded tired, probably from the show.

"Yeah, of course. Come on."

"Great, I'll be there, soon."

After five minutes, she let him in and let him crash on her bed, but then Greg came back.

"What is he doing here?" Greg scowled, displeased at another man at his place

"Oh, he couldn't make it back to Chrissy's place, so I decided to let him crash here for tonight," she replied.

"Great..." he sarcastically replied, walking into the living room.

"What's your problem?" she snapped, following him

"I just don't like you being around all these half-naked guys."

"Just because you decided to quit wrestling, doesn't mean I have to. You wrestled there before. Why can't I? Please don't tell me you're jealous..."

"I'm going out. Don't wait up for me." he brushed her off and left the apartment.

Melanie rolled her eyes again. "Wasn't planning to..." she headed back into her bedroom to see Jon relaxing on her bed.

"He's annoying the crap out of me," he grumbled.

"Agreed." she crossed her arms. She was getting tired of Greg's jealousy. She's been nothing but loyal to him.

"Why are you still with him?"

"Couples argue. We're not perfect." She sat down on the bed next to him.

"Where did he go anyway?"

"Who knows? He usually stays out all night..."

"Ever get suspicious?"

"No. I love him and trust him," she replied with a little doubt in her voice. "I'm so glad you won the title."

"Me too," he grunted and held his arm. "Can I get a massage?"

"It'll cost you." she chuckled.

"Damn..."

"Grapes I mean."

"Grapes? Just grapes? All right, I can live with that."

As she started to massage his arm with long strokes and circular motions, she couldn't help but feel the firm muscles on his arm. She shook the thought out of her head and noticed that he had fallen asleep after a few minutes. Melanie relaxed next to him and turned to watch him sleep.

Admiring the peaceful look on his face, she brushed some hair from his face.

'So adorable...' She thought with a small blush. 'Wait...adorable...? Oh no, I think I may be crushing on Jon.'

Was it wrong to like a guy while you're dating someone who really doesn't give you the time of day anymore? Someone who doesn't support what you want to do in life?

Jon rolled over to the side and rested his head against her chest. "D-dude, you're on top of me." She chuckled but Jon mumbled and snuggled into her. She ran a hand through his hair before going to sleep, enjoying the cute moment.

'Next Day'

Shivering and soaked from the rain, Melanie managed to find Chrissy's place and knocked on the door.

"Holy shit! Melanie! Are you okay!?" Chrissy let her in her place and set her on the couch. Melanie shivered violently. "You look like shit. What happened?"

"I-I was waiting for G-Greg and he didn't show up." she stuttered as she dried herself off with a towel.

Jon walked into the living room and spotted Melanie's alarming condition. He began to look worried. "Mel? What the hell happened!?" He rushed to her side.

"She was waiting for Greg and he didn't show up," Chrissy replied with resentment. "We need to call him."

Two hours later, Greg walked into Chrissy's place while Melanie rested on the couch in blankets.

"Dude, where the hell were you? We've been calling you for hours." Jon asserted

"I was out at the club with some chicks, why?" Greg shrugged, with no care in the world.

"Seriously? You're at the club when your girlfriend is sick?" Chrissy exclaimed in disbelief.

"She'll survive." he bluntly replied.

Melanie opens her eyes. "W-where were you? I waited for you." She said in a weak voice.

"Try not to strain yourself, hon." Chrissy expressed her concern.

"What do you mean wait?" Jon asked, turning to Greg.

"Crap...I forgot. We were supposed to go out for dinner. How long was she out there?" Greg sighed.

"Waited about three hours." Melanie weakly replied.

"Three?" Jon asked in shock.

"Three!? You're so faithful, unlike some people." Chrissy glared at Melanie's boyfriend.

"Let me get this straight...you and Melanie were supposed to have dinner tonight and you never showed up? You do realize it's raining, right?" Jon crossed his arms.

"Look, things happen. It's all right." Greg put his hands up in defense.

"No, it's not all right. She may have gotten seriously sick because of you." Jon replied with a frustrated growl.

"It's so cold..." Melanie shivered

"Come on, let me get you some warmer clothes." Chrissy helped Melanie in her room. After she got Melanie situated, she let her rest on her bed before walking back into the living room. "What the hell is wrong with you!? Why would you go to a club when you were supposed to have dinner with Mel?"

"Look, the reason I went to the club is because she doesn't do crap for me. Every time I want some, she refuses. We rarely do anything anymore, and all she focuses on is her family and wrestling career. What about me? I'm important too!"

"Un-fucking-believable..." Jon mumbled and shook his head in disgust

"And you should respect her interests and take an interest in the things she likes to do." Chrissy lectured

"Wrestling with half-naked men? I'll pass...she better be glad I approve of her doing this." Greg glared at them.

"Don't talk about her like that," Jon growled. "Why are you trying so hard to get in her pants, anyway?"

"Because she's hot. And she's starting to annoy the hell out of me with this waiting crap." Greg replied, making his intentions clear

"Why are you talking about her like that? Is that what you wanted? To get in her pants and then leave? That's not cool..." Chrissy crossed her arms and gave him a stern look.

"I'm tired of her talking about her virgin crap. Who is going to wait that long for her? I don't think I can do this, anymore." Greg admitted, revealing his impatience.

"She can do whatever the hell she wants and if you don't like it, get the hell out of here. And if she doesn't want to do it yet, then respect her wishes. And if you truly loved her, you would wait until she's ready." Jon exclaimed angrily.

"Jon." Chrissy put a hand on his arm to calm him down. "You talk about her like you own her. You don't. Plus, you wrestled in CZW, so why are talking so badly about wrestling?"

"Probably because Mel is better than him and he quit wrestling." Jon chuckled while Greg gave him an annoyed look.

"Whatever. I'm out of here." Greg headed for the door.

"And you're not going to stay with her and make sure she's okay?" Chrissy called out but he shut the door. "What an asshole! I cannot believe this!"

"I know..." Jon shook his head. Melanie managed to get out of bed and goes into the living room. "Mel, what are you doing out of bed?"

"I'm fine. I'm just..." She started to feel light-headed and began to fall down before Jon caught her in his arms.

"I got you," Jon murmurs and picks her bridal style. He walked her back into the bedroom and set her on the bed.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"It's not your fault." He reassured.

"Yes it is...is it me?" She managed to say. "Ever since I told him I was still a virgin and wanted to wait, he's been a little distant. What did I do? I love him."

As much as Jon wanted to vent to her about what an ass Greg is, he decided against it. "I know I screwed ring rats, but you're different because you make chasing worthwhile. You're not easy like those ring rats I screwed. Stay that way. It's a good thing. Continue to wait until you're ready."

She smiled and closed her eyes. "You're so good to me."

Jon gave her a half smile as she started to sleep again. He looked at what she was wearing. She was wearing one of his shirts and thought it looked cute on her. He headed out the room and saw Chrissy grinning at him.

"You like her, don't you?" she teased.

"Uh, why would you think that?" Jon rubbed the back of his neck.

"You're so caring and protective. You don't do that to any of the other girls." she chuckled. "I think it's cute. Now if only she could break up with Greg."

During a CZW show, Melanie was in the ring, wearing her wrestling attire which was jeans, a white tank top with a black bra with fingerless gloves. She was in the ring with another bombshell. All of a sudden, Moxley's theme comes on.

"Great..." Melanie rolled her eyes.

"Introducing your special guest referee for this contest, Jon~ Moxley!" The announcer announced as Melanie's jaw dropped and the other bombshell looked confused.

"What? What!?" Melanie screamed as Jon came out with a cocky grin on his face.

Jon waved at her as he got in the ring. "Hello, Melanie."

"Fuck you." She snapped and gave him the middle finger.

"I'd love to fuck you."

Melanie sighed loudly as the bell rang three times. "Stay out of my way." she pointed to him and circled around the ring with the bombshell. Near the end of the match, Melanie hit the bombshell with a roundhouse kick to the face. She waited for her to get on her knees to run to the ropes but all of sudden, Moxley hit her with the Moxicity, knocking the wind out of her.

"What!?" The first commentator exclaimed. "What the hell was that!? That was crap!"

The bombshell crawled over to Melanie and went for the pin. Jon quickly counted to three as the crowd booed. He raised the bombshell's hand and then she left the ring.

Meanwhile, with Melanie, she held her head and glared at him, sliding out of the ring. "Bullshit..."

Moxley grabbed a mic and began to cut another promo on her, "Melanie has no fucking talent in this company. She fucked with me too many times and she should have saw this coming. The bitch had it coming."

Melanie went on to get a chair while Jon's back was turned from her.

"Uh oh. Melanie does not look happy." The second commentator said.

"She's about to explode!" The first commentator replied, anticipating what she was about to do.

Melanie slid back into the ring and waited for Jon to turn around. As soon as he did, she hit him in the face with the chair as the crowd cheered.

"Fuck you!" She hit him five more times.

"She just hit Jon Moxley with a chair!" The first commentator yelled.

She threw the chair away and started unloading on him as she kept yelling curse words. A few refs ran down the ring to separate the two. The refs got Jon out of the ring while Melanie went to get a mic.

"Hey! Hey, Moxley! That was a bullshit move, dude. You want to fuck with me? Big mistake. So, if you want to get your ass kicked, I have no problem!"

"You can't do shit to me!" Jon yelled back.

"Don't think this is over. I'm not done with you yet, motherfucker! You want to fuck with me? Get in this ring and fight me!" Melanie yelled as the crowd cheered in agreement.

Jon looked at the crowd and then back at her. He decided to take her up on her offer and got on the apron. But then he smirked and jumped off as the crowd booed him.

"You're not worth my time." He shrugged

'Next Week'

During a CZW show, Moxley and Sami thought it would be hilarious to sneak into Melanie's locker room, go through her bags, and take all her clothes and wrestling attire while she was in the shower. After waiting about ten minutes, they see her walking around, frantically backstage with a towel on, trying to find her clothes. From her facial expression, they could tell that she was very worried.

"Well, well...if it isn't little miss Melanie. Nice towel." Mox greeted her with a smirk, eyeing her up and down

"Wonder where your wrestling attire is...isn't your match up next?" Sami added.

"Still can't find them? So...I guess this means you're wrestling...naked tonight."

"Can't wait to see that!" He high-fived Moxley.

Melanie bitterly chuckled. "You two are a bunch of dicks..." she tried to walk away but Jon blocked her way. "...Move..."

"Oh, I'm not leaving. I like what I see. I like what I see, a lot..." He checked her out

"Out of the way."

"Hey, hey hey...leaving so soon?" He asked as he blocked her way again, making her bump into his chest.

"I'm gonna give you ten seconds to defend yourself if you don't get out of my way..." She threatened, making Sami laugh out loud.

"And what are you gonna do, Melly Belly? Kick us in the balls?" Sami suggested.

"Not a bad idea!" she swiftly kicked them both in the balls, before walking away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A couple weeks later, Melanie was forced to become Sami and Jon's valet after they won a tag team match for her services for a couple months for a storyline. During her time with the both of them was a lot of chaotic mess.

For instance:

'Moxley vs Brain Damage'

Near the end of the match, Melanie ran out with a chair as the crowd booed her. She slid in the ring, making sure she didn't get cut from all the glass scattered around. She was about to hit Brain Damage but he moved out of the way, making her hit Jon instead

Melanie's eyes widen. "Shit! Sorry!"

"Melanie! What the fuck!?" Sami yelled as he ran out.

"I said I was sorry!" she yelled back.

"Fuck him up!" Sami yelled while she rolled her eyes.

She turned around to see Brain Damage with a drill in his hands. She looked a little taken aback since he was so bloody and glaring at her. She took a step back and turned around, about to run out of the ring but he grabbed her by the hair. She screamed as the crowd cheered and started chanting 'Cut her open!'

Sami ran into the ring and was about to hit him with a bat but Brain Damage threw Melanie on the mat, and luckily Jon caught her from hitting the glass. Brain Damage shifted his attention to Sami and threatened to drill him until Jon caught him in a roll-up pin for the win.

Melanie slid out of the ring and hugged Jon as he stumbled down on the ground while Sami met up with them at ringside.

"Here is your winner! Jon Moxley!" The announcer declared

"Fuck him up!" Sami yelled

"Are you okay!?" Melanie asked Jon.

"You worry a lot," Jon smirked, enjoying her concern. "I like it."

"Are you serious? You almost got your head cut open! How can I not be worried?"

"I'm fine. It's just a fucking scratch."

"A big fucking scratch."

Later, she hung out with Jon and Sami to watch the rest of the matches. The crowd was loud and hyped during Nick Gage's match against Thumbtack Jack. Melanie, as always, had a bowl of grapes in her hands, popping them in her mouth like they were candy.

"Mel you look like you gained weight. Eating too much grapes?" Sami teased and poked her stomach.

Melanie chuckled. "Okay...don't be a dick."

"Haha, I'm just messin' with ya." Sami laughed.

All of a sudden they hear loud 'Ohs' and 'Holy shit' chants from the crowd after Nick got thrown into the light tubes, that were propped between the ropes.

"Damn! Is he really hurt?" She cringed and started to look concerned when people started to help him.

"I think so, a doctor is rushing over to him," Jon replied as they watched people take him to the back. There was blood all over him and the doctor had to use towels under his arm to stop the bleeding.

Melanie started to look nervous. "This is why I hate light tubes."

After the show, Melanie drove Jon back to his place which he shared with Chrissy Rivera. Jon was bloody from head to toe, and seriously needed a shower.

"Take a long, hot shower. I'll make you a cheese steak." Melanie headed to the kitchen and placed her bag on the counter. Jon looked at her taking out the ingredients to make the food, and chuckled.

"Only you would have that in your bag."

Melanie was about to answer but stopped herself before pondering. "...I...crave things. I did go to the store before we left the event,"

Jon examined the scars he received from his matches at the tournament. "Oh? Finally lost your card and got pregnant? Was that why Sami said you gained weight?"

"No, and no I'm not pregnant." She firmly noted.

"All right then." He headed to the bathroom but seconds later he came back out. "Wait, shouldn't you be with your boyfriend? You know how overprotective he is."

Melanie rolled her eyes and started to become annoyed. "Can we not talk about him?!" She snapped, getting negative memories of Greg.

"Whoa, calm down. I didn't mean to make you mad." He put his hands up in defense.

Melanie ran her hands through her hair and sighed. "Just forget it. I just...I just want to be with you, right now."

"Well, I'm here. Now what's going on with you and him?"

"Take a shower." She evaded.

"Not until you answer my question."

"You should really wash that blood off."

"What is going on?"

"Can you please just drop it!?"

"I know something is wrong. I'm not gonna stop asking you until you tell me." Jon persisted. Melanie gave him a stern look and started preparing his meal. "So now you're ignoring me, huh? I think I know what it is. Looks like you haven't been getting a lot of attention."

"Or maybe it's because I still have my card. He keeps trying to pressure me. It's turning me off and he gets really angry."

Jon rested his elbows on the counter. "You just need to relax."

"You should take a shower."

"You should take one with me." He suggested.

Melanie stopped what she was doing and looked up at him. "Are you serious?"

"No joke." He replied with a serious face.

"Jon, I'm still with him."

"Do you want to stay with him?

"I...don't know."

"You're blinded by love."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. The guy cheated on you several times and you're still with him. It's okay to just say fuck you, I don't want to be with you anymore. I think you want to believe you're still in love with him so that your relationship with him can still last. That's not love."

"I love him, Jon. End of discussion."

Jon showed a mischievous look on his face and walked around the counter. "Well if you loved him so much, you wouldn't be staring at my chest this whole time."

"Was not..." She mumbled as he got behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Well if you loved him so much, would you let me do this?" He started to lightly kiss the smooth skin of her neck. Melanie immediately started to relax despite trying not to enjoy the skilled mouth of Jon's. Unfortunately, the pleasure didn't last long because he released her. "Haha, the look of disappointment on your face is hilarious. So much for loving that guy. That was fun wasn't it?"

"Jon." She gave him a stern look while rubbing her neck.

"All right, all right. I'll be in the shower while you continue to pretend you don't want me to kiss your neck again...and in other places." He goes into the bathroom.

Melanie exhaled and sat on the couch, in the living room. She ran her hands through her hair. Was it cheating to get a love mark from another man, let alone having one of your best guy friends give you the love mark. And it felt good? But you're dating someone who disrespects you? She should really break up with Greg. What is the point anymore?

After Jon took a shower, he walked back out in his shorts and no shirt. "All right, do you wanna have sex or not?"

"Jon!" Melanie exclaimed, while he gave her a grin. "This is serious!"

"I am serious. Do you or not, in general?"

"I do but-"

"Then get over here."

"I don't want to be treated as some play toy or ring rat. I'm not like that and I don't want to just lose it like that."

"Losing it isn't going to be perfect. Just as long as you trust someone. Do you trust Greg?"

"No, not at all."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"There you have it." He sat down on the couch, next to her.

"I feel like you're treating this like a joke."

"Melanie." He began in a deep tone. "I don't mind deflowering you right here, right now if you want me to. I'm not one for doing that romantic crap, but I know I can make you feel special, unlike that jackass...only if you let me."

"You've screwed so many girls."

"And so has he. But I know I can screw better than him. And you'll be the first I do it with meaning."

"You're my best friend."

"Wouldn't that be a better choice?"

"We're not even together."

"I can change that." He smirked. "Just stay here with me."

The temptation was building as she started to ponder about his offer but sighed. "I really want to, but this will be the first place, he'll try to find me. You know he doesn't like you. And what you did is going to really trigger it."

"So, are you planning on telling him about what we did?"

"What you did."

"What we did. You didn't stop me. And I saw that look of disappointment when I stopped."

Melanie sighed. "No, I'm not going to tell."

"How are you gonna explain to him about that mark?" He looked at the love mark on her neck.

"I'll just put makeup on it. No big deal."

"Man...how can you deal with that loser?"

"I don't give in to his pressure."

"I almost pressured you."

"No, you didn't. You see the thing is, I just feel really comfortable with you."

"Glad to hear," Jon cracked a smile

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a day before Thanksgiving. Melanie was in her street clothes and had her gym bag on her. She saw Jon, tying his sneakers in his locker room. "Hey, how are you spending Thanksgiving? Going home to your family?" Melanie grinned.

"Uh, yeah..." Jon lied

"That doesn't sound so enthusiastic. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Dude, you can tell me if something is on your mind. What's up?"

"Just drop it, okay?"

"No, I'm not going to drop it. What is the big deal? It's supposed to be a happy time. A happy time with you spending Thanksgiving with your family."

He sighed. "That's the thing...I'm spending Thanksgiving alone."

"What?" she exclaimed as he explained his past and how he was raising himself at an early age. "I'm sorry...I didn't know you had it rough like that..."

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. Look, why don't you stay with me and spend Thanksgiving with my family?" she happily suggested. "You've met my parents before."

"Nah..."

"Why are you being so difficult? No one should be alone for Thanksgiving."

"Well, maybe it's because it wouldn't be right, to spend Thanksgiving with your family. We're different people, Melanie. You're daddy's little girl, and I'm just a bad guy. Your family wouldn't accept me. Or accept me hanging out with you."

"Stop it. They accepted you before when I introduced you to them. You are welcome there, anytime, Jon. Just come with me, okay?"

"Melanie, just stop, all right? I'm not going."

"You are being ridiculous, right now. I don't get why you would want to spend Thanksgiving alone when you have a family who loves you and treats you like their own son. My father and mother love you. They truly love you, Jon."

"Mel, I'm sorry, but I can't. I don't want them to think of me differently because of my past."

"Are you fucking kidding me, right now?" She threw her arms up, sighing loudly.

"No, I'm not fucking kidding, right now." Jon snapped.

Melanie rolled her eyes. "You think they are going to abandon you because of your past? Who gives a shit? Let's move on and focus on now. Not the past." she replied as Jon stood up, about to leave. She pushed him back to keep him from leaving. "You know what Jon? I wish you would let me in because I'm one of your female friends who isn't trying to screw you, break your heart, or want you for your looks. I'm here because I care about you and you are my best friend. Okay, so you're violent, I've seen your matches, but I don't care. You're you. So, I'll take no for an answer. But if you want to talk to me, don't call me, don't text me, and don't even email me. You're gonna have to see me face to face, at my place. I'll leave my window unlocked for you. I just hope you come."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Later, at night'

It was raining and Melanie was in her room, sleeping while her TV was on. All of a sudden, her window opened and Jon slid in like he usually would whenever he'd visit from time to time. He shut the window but it made a sound and Melanie woke up, holding her chest, breathing heavily.

"You scared the crap out of me,"

"Sorry..." he murmured

"I didn't think you'd come." she looked at him and got off the bed to hug him. He was soaked. To his hair, to his leather jacket and gray short-sleeved shirt and jeans. It made her PJs a little damp.

"Ah...I gave it a lot of thought."

"Glad you came. Wow, you're soaked." she ran her right hand through his damp hair. "You should change into some warmer clothes." she goes to her dresser. "Remember the shirt and sweatpants you lent me when I forgot to bring changing clothes during one of the CZW shows? I still got them."

"Thanks." he takes the clothes from her. "I thought you were going to do an all-nighter tonight."

"Trust me, I wanted to but my mom wants me to help cook with her. Early."

"So glad I'm not you, right now."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You should help."

"I'll think about it." he smiled warmly, taking off his leather jacket.

Melanie laughed as he stared to remove his shirt, "Don't change in front of me,"

"Don't like what you see?" he teased, making her face warm

"That's not what I meant. Go in my bathroom and change." she pointed to the door in her room.

"You sure you don't want to see what I got under my pants?"

"Haha. No." Her blush continued to get worse.

"Come on, I know you do. Want me to tell you how big I am?"

"No! Bathroom, now!" She laughed and pushed him

Jon laughed and did what he was told. "Okay! Okay!"

Moments later, he came out of the bathroom and saw Melanie lying down on the bed. He decided to lie down on the floor.

"Why are you sleeping on the floor, man? Get your ass on the bed." She looks down at him.

"You sure you want me in the same bed as you?"

"Why'd you think I'd let you sleep on the floor? Get up here," she demanded as he stood up to get under the covers with her. "You are warm! I love it. Hold me," she snuggled into him.

Jon chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist. In the morning, he woke up first and saw Melanie sleeping. He gently moved some hair from her face and smiled down at her. He was thankful for her, letting him in her life and family with a past like his. She was really something.

"Stop staring, you're making me blush..." Melanie mumbled.

"I make you blush? Sweet..." he replied with a victorious grin. "Hey, do your parents know I'm here?"

"Yeah," she replied. "We should get up unless you want my mom to throw a bucket of water on you. She did that to me last Thanksgiving and it was not pretty."

After they get situated, they go downstairs and into the kitchen to see Jane cooking. "Melanie! Jon! Good morning!" Jane grinned.

"Where's dad?" Melanie asked as she gave Jane a kiss on the cheek.

"Out for a morning jog. He should be back soon. Would you two mind helping out with the pies?"

"Sweet, you got pecan pie." Jon grinned as he saw the pecan pie box on the counter.

"Melanie requested it." Jane smiled.

"Really?" Jon looked at Melanie with admiration in his eyes. Seeing her nod in approval, he replied, "Wow...thanks, Mel! I appreciate it!"

"Not a problem!"

"Thanks for having me here."

"Oh Jon, you are always welcome here. I love you like a son, sweetie." Jane gave him a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug. Jon hugged her back, feeling the love and affection.

Melanie smiled at the two. "Now are you glad you came?"

"Completely," Jon replied

After they helped out, Jon and Mel hang out in her room. "My mom usually stays at home, while my dad teaches at his dance studio." she put her hair in a bun.

"Ah, I see. Your dad is Puerto Rican, right?"

"Yeah, and my mom is English. They married when I was born. So whenever my age is, that's their anniversary. I think it's pretty funny."

'Weeks Later'

Jon puts on a shirt with jeans after a match. "Hey, happy birthday!" Melanie smiled as she had her gym bag in her hands.

Jon flashed her a small smile. "Thanks."

"So, doing anything special tonight?"

"Probably getting drunk at the bar with the guys. Nothing new."

Melanie looked at him in slight shock. "No gifts?"

"Nah."

"No cake?"

"Nope."

"Okay, you're coming with me tonight."

"Birthday sex? We can do it right here."

"No silly!" Melanie laughed, getting used to his flirty and playful advances. "I'm going to take you out."

"Shouldn't a guy take out a girl for lunch or dinner?"

"It's your birthday, and you really should do this instead of drinking at a bar. Come on, please? I promise it'll be worth it."

"I can't resist your charm. Fine..."

"Awesome! Let's go."

"In this?" Jon looks at his casual clothing.

"We're going to a diner. I would always go there as a teen after school. Casual clothing is fine." she reassured.

Jon and her drive to a diner called 'Johnny Rockets'. Jon reluctantly got out of the car as he watched how excited Melanie looked to be at the diner again.

"Uhhhh you sure about this?" he asked.

"Shh!" Melanie grabbed his hand and dragged him into the diner.

"Melanie! Good to see you again, sweetie." A woman in her mid-40s greeted her with a bubbly smile.

"Hi! It's my friend's birthday today, thought I might treat him to one of my favorite spots to eat."

"Oh wow, he's handsome. Lemme get you two a table. Right this way."

"Thanks, Miss Amy."

"Melanie, I told you about calling me Miss. Just call me Amy."

"Habit." The Philly girl shrugged

"So, who is the birthday boy?"

"I'm Jon."

"Nice to meet you, sweetie. Check out the menu. You'll love it here. I'll be back in a few minutes." Amy, the waitress walked away.

"Find anything?" Melanie asked.

"A lot of stuff here..."

"I always get a Philly cheese steak."

"Guess you are a Philadelphian." Jon lets out a chuckle.

"Yep! Once in a blue moon, I'll get a cheeseburger and fries."

After a couple minutes, Amy returned. "Mel, the usual? Philly cheese steak?"

"Yes." she answered and gave her the menu.

"And what about you, pumpkin?" Amy asked.

"Ah...I guess I'll get the Rocket Double and some fries." Jon confirmed.

"What are your drinks?"

"She'll get a Sprite and I'll get a Diet Coke," Jon answered for Melanie and himself as Melanie snapped her head to him in astonishment.

"How'd you know I like Sprite?" Melanie asked

"I've been observant." Jon grinned

"What a good friend he is. I'll be back with your orders." Amy said and grabbed Jon's menu. She put her pen in her long black hair which is wrapped up in a bun and walked away.

"That's cool how you know I like sprite. I guess I gotta remember the stuff you like."

After they ate, Amy brought out a birthday cake with 25 candles on it. "I baked you a small cake. Happy birthday." Amy smiled.

"Thanks, I owe you." Melanie replied.

"No worries! It's on the house sweetie," Amy walked away.

"This cake is for me? Seriously?" Jon asked as he stared at the cake in awe. It simply said 'Happy 25th Birthday Jon!'

Melanie laughed. "Yes! Now make a wish!"

Jon chuckled softly and nodded. "All right." he blew out the candles. "You really didn't have to do this for me."

"Can you please stop saying that? I wanted to do this for you. You can return the favor if it makes you feel better. Now let's eat some cake!" Melanie exclaimed and cut a piece of vanilla cake. She dipped her right index finger on the icing of her slice and put it on Jon's nose. "Haha, couldn't resist."

"Cute..." Jon took a napkin and wiped his nose as he grinned. After they have dinner, Jon drove Melanie home and walked her to her doorstep. "Thanks for tonight. You were right, this was better than the bar."

"See! I told ya! Thanks for taking me home."

"No problem."

"Oh, before you go, I got you something," Melanie remembered as she dug in her pockets.

"You got me a gift?" Jon questioned in surprise.

"Of course, dude!" she took out a black leather bracelet. "I made it myself. My mom's sister knows how to make bracelets and taught me how. Sorry I didn't wrap it but I hope you like it." she looked nervous, anticipating his reaction.

"Hell yeah, I do!" He wrapped his arms around her and twirled her around.

"Hahaha! I'm glad!"

'A few days later'

Melanie was in tears of frustration as she knocked on Jon's door. Jon opened it and Melanie gave him an apologetic smile and wiped her tears.

"Sorry to come here unexpectedly. I...I didn't have anywhere else to go." She sniffed and he let her in.

"What's wrong?" He embraces her.

"I'm so stupid. I'm so stupid!" She released him and started pacing around.

"What happened?" He shut the door and turned his attention to her.

"He cheated on me, again. I don't understand. I thought we were doing so good." She sighed. "I'm sorry, I keep venting to you with all my problems. You know what? I should get him back. Get some revenge. How about you kiss me? How about that?"

"H-hey." Jon got pushed down on the couch and she straddled him. "Mel." He tried to reason.

She sighed and got off him. "What's gotten into me?" She ran her hands through her hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm just not myself. Ugh, and now you think I'm crazy. I'm sorry."

"It's no problem." He fixed his shirt.

"No problem? I just straddled you. Weren't you going to-"

"Mel, I'm not going take advantage of you when you're like this. You need to cool down and clear your head. You just need to think."

Melanie exhaled. "Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better."

He stood up and noticed a small bruise on her hand. "Did he hit you?"

Melanie looked away. "...Almost. He grabbed me pretty hard."

"You're getting out of that relationship. Now."

"It's nothing really-"

"Are you kidding me? Ever since you started dating him, you've been losing your mind. You're getting out of this unhealthy relationship. Now. He isn't going to drag you down from being a great wrestler just because he isn't."

"But I-"

"You can stay with me. Okay?"

"This is happening so fast."

"Then just spend the night. No way in hell I'm letting you go back there. We'll pick up your stuff tomorrow."

She gave him a small smile. "Thanks. I appreciate this."

"No problem. Come on, let's just chill and watch a movie to get your mind off things."

After they get situated and sit on the couch, Jon hands her a bowl of popcorn made from the stove. She popped one in her mouth and looked at the popcorn weirdly. "Uh...what the heck is in this?"

"Oh, Chrissy and I started to put random crap in our popcorn and I decided to make this. You like? I put cinnamon in it." Jon grinned.

Melanie started to smile and popped another one in her mouth.

"It's...freakishly good. Wanna play Truth, Truther, or Truthest?" She suggested as she sat next to Jon on the couch, pretzel style.

"What the hell, all right." he shrugged, turning his head to her instead of the TV. "Truthest."

"Hm...ever got arrested?"

"Oh yeah." He replied and began to tell her the crazy stories. It amused Melanie in some way, but she did feel bad. But he reassured her that he was fine. "Stop being such a cutie, and stop worrying so much. I'm fine."

"All right, all right." She accepted his wishes and popped another grape in her mouth. After several back-and-forth questions, it was back to Jon.

"Truther." He replied.

"How many chicks have you slept with?"

"A lot."

Melanie rolled her eyes out of amusement. "You're a piece of work. Truthest."

"How many people have YOU slept with?"

"Still none." She shrugged

The next morning, Melanie got ready to leave. "Thanks for spending the night with me."

"No problem. What are friends for? Those horror movies we watched were so corny though. We gotta find some good ones." Jon brought up. "I'll make sure to find something better."

"Great. So what are your plans for today?"

"Wrestle, drink some beer, screw a couple of chicks. The usual."

"Ah...I see. Well, I hope you have fun."

"Thanks, I will. Is that jerk gonna yell at you again?" He asked as they start walking down the street.

"He just...really envies you for some reason. I always see him getting so hyped up, around you. It's like a competition, every time he sees you."

"Melanie. Remember what I told you. End it and be careful."

She nodded. "I will. Don't worry. I know how much you care." She smiled and he headed off to the gym to train, while she continued walking down the street.

Greg quickly appeared behind her, giving her an annoyed look. "Well well. It looks like you seem to leave, every chance you get, to wrap your arms around him and make sure you're the only important woman in his life." Greg berated her as she quickly turned around.

"You scared me." She held her chest. "And what are you talking about? It's not like that."

"Oh really? Then where were you last night?"

"At a friend's. I slept over."

"With whom exactly?"

"Look, don't tell me how to live my life-"

"Shut up. The way he touches and looks at you, disgusts me. Stop seeing him."

"But I-"

"I wasn't asking for your permission. You are going to stop seeing him. And if I catch you with him, it won't be pretty, got it? You are my business and I demand to know everything that you are doing. You're not gonna talk to him ever again, you hear me?"

Something inside of her clicked, and she couldn't take it anymore. "You know what? No. I'm not going to stop seeing him."

"What did you just say?" He glared at her.

"You are the biggest asshole, ever. I'm done. I can't take it anymore. I'm breaking up with you. All you do is treat me like shit, you screw all these skanky ass bitches, and you don't give me the respect I deserve. So you know what? Fuck you, and have a nice life."

Greg let out a laugh. "You can't break up with me."

"I just fucking did. I'm out of here." She turned and stormed off.

"You're gonna regret this!" He yelled.

#forced to believe #the shield #morgan lopez #wwe #dean ambrose #roman reigns #seth rollins #wwe oc #wrestling fanfic #dean ambrose x oc #jon moxley #The Shield 4th member #dean Ambrose fluff #Jon Moxley fluff

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deadprompts · 2 years ago

Text

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝟷 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂.

content warning applies. change any pronouns / wording if necessary.

there's us and the dead.

this is what takes us down.

the tragedy of their loss cannot be overstated.

i'm gonna get shit-faced drunk again

you should've seen the look on his face when i punched out his front teeth.

you're still a dumbass.

nice moves there, clint eastwood.

i think tomorrow i'm gonna blow my brains out.

y'all be more polite to a man with a gun!

zero tolerance for walkers.

that's the biggest lie there is.

we're safe here.

it's not a toy.

i know how the safety works.

keep drinking, little man.

do not enter the city.

bright side, it'll be the fall that kills us.

you may think you do but you don't.

living underground doesn't help; not knowing if it's day or night.

wish i could have done it a month ago.

friend, you need glasses.

there's good news?

it was worth every minute of it just to see that prick spit his teeth out on the ground.

i finally got the scrubbers in the east sector shut down to save power.

there were dozens of 'em.

eww. that's nasty.

maybe we got a second chance.

help me now, show me the way.

i didn't behave, i know.

screw you, man.

sometimes they fall short.

you take that stupid hat and go back to "on golden pond."

you the new sheriff come riding in to clean up the town?

cozy in there?

the only reason i got away was 'cause the dead were too busy eating my family.

i don't even know why i'm talking to you.

that's my boy.

this is our extinction event.

how far do you think i can chuck this, huh?

things are different now.

if you see anything, holler. i'll come running.

go on, tell me what to do.

hey kid, what'd you do before all this?

what are the odds, huh?

i know what i want to say.

i see a chance to make a new start.

i remember my dream now.

i ain't begged you before, i ain't gonna start begging now.

i know i'm being punished.

it wasn't my intention.

i can't let a man die of thirst.

i wanna see how red your face can get.

the world ended, didn't you get the memo?

we survive this by pulling together, not apart.

anybody that gets in the way of that is gonna lose.

it scares the fish.

thought i'd get to drive at least for a few more days.

i'll give you a moment to think about that.

i'm sorry this happened to you.

i'm old enough.

it belongs to the dead now.

maybe we'll get to steal another one someday.

nobody is gonna hurt you, okay?

they came out of nowhere.

saves me the embarrassment.

that's the bad news.

can i learn to shoot?

you pull the trigger, you have to mean it.

not many people get that.

bites kill you.

just...feeling very...off.

words can be meager things.

what he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me.

what do you say to that?

guess the world changed.

the fever burns you out, but then after a while... you come back.

hell yes you're gonna learn.

you heard me, bitch.

the weak get taken.

there's no clinical progress to report.

still not sleeping well, can't seem to keep regular hours.

we gotta do it carefully, teach you to respect the weapon.

we are surviving here.

too bad i never studied engineering.

yeah, whatever, yee haw.

they might not seem like much one at a time, but in a group all riled up and hungry, man you watch your ass.

one thing i do know, don't you get bit.

we don't kill the living.

no crying in the boat.

i bet there isn't a single son of a bitch still listening out there, is there?

that's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being.

you don't know what it's like out there.

you're surrounded by walkers.

we don't have to be afraid anymore.

who voted you king boss?

we left him like an animal caught in a trap.

the line is pretty clear.

admit it, you only came back to atlanta for the hat.

i can see you make a habit of missing the point.

it's only a matter of time.

is this real?

there's us and the dead.

you got a problem?

there's too many of those things.

i never told them what i really thought.

i ain't so worried about some dumb dead bastard.

i'm a glass half full kinda guy.

it's the same as it ever was.

who the hell are you, man?!

#prompts #twd #rp prompts #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp meme #sentence starters #inbox meme #the walking dead rp meme #twd rp meme #apocalypse rp meme #apocalypse sentence starters #apocalypse rp #tlou rp meme #inbox prompts #deadprompts prompt

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koocycle · 2 years ago

Note

That one ask about why over wine is so great>>>>>> I totally agree! This depiction of two imperfect people who suck at communicating has to be one of my favs yet. It's so bothersome when a male is acting so mid towards his s/o but he's portrayed as a "saint" for having the "patience" to "deal with" his woman. When in actuality he's being complacent and expecting the problem to solve itself if he brings flowers, and then his sweet little wife will go back to being happy being a trophy for him to show off. So, it's very refreshing to see this kind of portrayal. Sure, oc is a bit sassy and passive aggressive, but part of it is bc she feels the outcome wouldn't be in her favor if she were vulnerable. So, the only way to feel like she's won is to fight jk instead, to win against him instead of the problem, but we know that the "win" is only a win in the moment. And mind y'all that this is a woman who feels like she's lost her individuality. She doesn't have any purpose for herself to explore and put on effort towards. She can relax all day but take it from someone who knows, staying at home all day doing nothing gets so damn depressing. If it was a dude in her place, (trash) people would suddenly give a damn and preach about how unfair and frustrating that would be but they'll portrayed a woman with the same problems as unappreciative and snobby. The thing with jk is that each and every time he's like, "you don't have to lift a finger" but that doesn't mean oc doesn't want to. It's frustrating and stifling. When people are able to live comfortably, they will still work because we all need to keep our hands busy with things that we love. And in the end jk might be "trying" but you can't say you're attempting to fix things with all your might, when your solution to helping a deep wound between you two is just soothing it with expensive pain relief. It won't get rid of the wound, and while it may ease the pain in the beginning, it's only temporary, and oftentimes, when you take the same pain reliever for so long, it soon stops taking any effects and might even cause more harm than before. His luxury bags and dresses are nice, but the perks aren't really there anymore, it's overused and the pain still comes back. Without trying to mend things with anything of substance, those things he buys end up being useless. Can't patch up a marriage with duct tape bestie 🫡 He can't replace his absence with gifts and he can't take away boredom with luxury. And then my guy has the gall(is that right) to be jealous of other dudes who pay attention to her in public spaces. Jk! She needs u and she needs hobbies 😭😭😭

So basically, it's such an amazing work and you're so cool for it!! Idk if any of that made sense but oh well! I like the story and the depth that the characters have and you're amazing at writing 😘

thank you so much for taking your time to send this in 🥹 i appreciate you so much!!

very true when you say it’s sad to see that he thinks their problems will just vanish with the help of luxury gifts and a steady paycheck at the end of the month. while he gets praised for his work, she just gets to stand by his side like a trophy, yet shes lowkey treated as a nobody. almost like her attitude is some sort of defense mechanism!

and i love you so much for adressing the issue at hand, where you describe her as “someone who has lost her individuality”. i’m taking it from you and me both when you say it gets damn depressing to stay home every single day. there are people who can do it, and there are people who can’t. but models are very creative individuals! creative people need a space to let their creativity run free and often times when they don’t have the opportunity to, they can become very miserable! i mean, did you see the difference during the scene with taehyung? it was huge!! she definitely appreciates jungkook for everything he gives her, but she doesn’t need much of it at this point.

you’re the one who’s so cool for taking your time to send in your thoughts!! 🤍 really, you’re making my day here :( thank you ily

#inbox: over wine

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talesfromsiteredacted · 2 years ago

Text

A Sweet Surprise

Little known fact around here, but we have our own ice cream carts. In summer, they're wheeled out for good behavior. Since there hasn't been a Euclid class breach in over a month... ice cream party, y'all!

It's Friday afternoon, and while it's insanely hot outside, everybody has been chill. So chill in fact Dr. Gears has authorized use of the ice cream carts to deliver pints of frozen goodwill throughout Euclid containment.

Rob, one of the interns, is walking with me throughout the wing. We're passing out the pints of dairy deliciousness to various residents. How it works is a bit like Oprah and cars... YOU get ice cream, and YOU get ice cream, and YOU in the back gets ice cream... EVERYBODY GETS ICE CREAM! Before long we reach my old friend, 049. I knock on the door to his quarters.

"Hiya, Doc! You busy?"

"For you, Rabbit? I always have time. I see things are a bit... hectic."

"Not too hectic, I've got time for a break. Care for some ice cream on this overly warm Friday?"

"Ice cream?"

"Yeah... Dr. Gears said everybody was behaving for once, so... you all get some creamy frozen treats. Any preference, 049?"

"Any chance of some strawberry?"

"Let me see..." Rob starts rooting through the cart. "Uh, no plain strawberry left but there's strawberry cheesecake, chocolate covered strawberry, or strawberry mango sorbet." He pipes up after a quick search.

"Surprise me, young man."

Rob picks a pint at random. "Ah, strawberry cheesecake it is." He slides the pint and a plastic spoon through the slot in 049's door. The Doc takes his treat.

"Thank you, my friends. I shall enjoy this immensely." We move on. I check the list. Amazingly, we're out of Euclid deliveries. Rob taps me on the arm.

"Hey, Dr. Snow? Think Doc would like some company? Kind of feel bad, he doesn't get a lot of visitors."

"Officially, I'm supposed to advise against that. But... he knows the rules, as do you. Just stay on your side, and I'll act like I never saw anything. If Site Command asks, you're thinking of medical training, wanted his opinion on the idea. It's a convincing enough lie."

"Especially since it's mostly true. See you later, Dr. Snow." I leave to put the cart away, icy payloads delivered. On my way back, I see a sight that makes me feel slightly better about how things are here: Rob and 049, having a lively conversation about the arduous task of becoming a physician. 049 is happy to give his expertise to his fellow healers, although few dare take him up on it. Glad he and Rob are getting on, though. I think 049 gets a bit lonely like the rest of us from time to time. Having a new friend will be good for both of them.

#scp foundation #tales from site redacted #dr snow #scp 049 #rob the intern

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myshiptrashcan · 1 year ago

Text

So the gf is upset that boo can't spend much time with her. Boo knows this but tries to tell her that this won't be permanent, that after this important deal their lives will be very comfortable from then on. After all of this they're going to get married and maybe start a family, he wants to be able to support them.

She tell him that she's going to see her family out in another state. You say ok, not that she needed your permission but it's good she told you before hand. You think it would be good for her to see her family anyways, and given you can't spend as much time with her as you'd like, it would be good for her to have the company.

You manage to close the deal and are super excited, and you feel like you can actually breathe now. This deal was no guarantee, and the tremendous pressure these past few weeks were on you was crushing.

You try to call your gf soon to be wife, and she doesn't answer. Huh. The time zone shouldn't be too different. You call again. No answer. A text maybe? Concerned you contact her mother, who then tells you that she's just out with her old friend. Thank God she's ok. And hey that's wonderful that she reconnected with an old friend. You tell her mother that you made the deal and are finally free to come visit your future mother in law, maybe even meet this friend.

You're finally there and as you're walking up to the steps you see your gf and another man talking by the door. So you say hello and shakes the man's hand. Complement the guy on how strong he must be, offer a beer sometime and an invite to wedding considering him and your gf must be friends.

The man is polite but doesn't look very happy. In fact he looks down right heart broken. Huh. But then when you turn to your gf, she looks quite the same before she plasters on one of her fake smiles.

You try asking her if she's alright as y'all get into bed. She shrugs you off and sleeps on the very edge of the bed rather than cuddle up beside you. You can tell she's crying.

Breakfast is quite. But you have an idea, and she more than deserves a bit of romance.

You take her out to eat at a fancy restaurant. Fancier than any you'd ever been to before. Live music plays and you dance together, but .... She isn't there with you. She claims she needs to use the restroom and then just never comes back out.

She wasn't there.

She doesn't come home that night, or the next.

There's only one more night before your flight back, and her sister tells you she found your gf at a Christmas party in the old barn.

Worried and a bit upset that she just disappeared on you like that. You show up looking for her, only to see her kissing her "friend" in the middle of the all the slow dancing.

As it turns out she'd been seeing this guy before quickly falling in love with him. After you took her to dinner and she disappeared for two days, she'd actually slept with the man while you were out looking for her.

Utterly betrayed and rightfully upset, an argument breaks out outside the barn, were you took her so that this messy business isn't right in the middle of all her friends and strangers.

Yeah, you're yelling but so is she. She's crying an saying how all you care about is work and how unhappy she was, that you weren't paying enough attention to her. She is blaming you for her cheating. You try to tell everything you tried telling her before. That it was important and it was for them, that it wasn't going to last forever. Hell, it had only lasted about a month. And they'd been together for 4 years for fuck sake!

The man who you tried to welcome in with open arms and kindness, didn't give two shits about you nor the fact that you two were engaged. Well he punches you pretty god damn hard.

Nothing about you is an overly violent person. You're angry, but she isn't worth fighting for now. You don't want to. Not after what she's done. You just wanna get out here. You just want to go home a forget about all the love you had for her. It's only betrayal and heartbreak now.

You wonder to yourself what went wrong? You never thought she would be the kind of person to cheat. You wonder why you weren't good enough. You wonder briefly if it really was all your fault, if she was just in doing what she had.

You don't have any family around anymore, and you'd gotten quite attached to her large one. All that was gone now. And the loss of another family hurt even worse than losing her did.

You had worked so hard, pushed yourself tirelessly to have the means of supporting a family with her. One she said she wanted too. Now that she was out of the picture what was there to work for now?

The wedding was meant to be in February, on your mother's birthday. You had wanted her to see such a happy event even if she couldn't be there with you.

How does one recover from this? Love again, Trust again.

You never had an inflated ego or any self worth problems before any of this happened, but now you wonder what about you was worth so little that she threw you out so quickly?

The horrible thing is, she's probably happier now with him. She probably didn't spare you anymore thought as soon as you were out of her sight. But you wonder how long that would last, if she'd also go on to break his heart. Or worse, if she never did, if you were the only one she hurt.

How does one recover from this?

Time helped a lot. You never fully healed but the wound doesn't hurt so sharply now. More like a dull ache that never goes away.

Christmas is a painful time for you. So you spend it at the bar.

The first Christmas was spent black out drunk, but the second hadn't been so bad. By the third it's become your new tradition to spend Christmas at this particular bar. You're not so burdened by your past hurts that you feel the need to drink too much.

This so happens to be the first year since that you're actually enjoying yourself, at least mildly.

The song "Last Christmas" comes on. You've grown quite the attachment to this song in particular. You sing along comfortably under all the noise of others.

You meet someone that night. You talk and laugh and you feel happy and warm for the first time in a very long time.

It's only far later, that you both discover how your heart's had been broken by a cheating ex on the holidays.

Somehow you both can't be bothered to think of them anymore when you're with each other.

#my writing #i guess i felt like it

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gayashelljatp · 3 months ago

Text

Elliot Wright x Monroe Astor | What Is This Feeling? Chapter 4

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62606434/chapters/160251295

Tags Enemies to Lovers, Roommates Who Loathe (Love) Eachother, Inspired by Wicked, Song: What Is This Feeling (Wicked), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting cause movie was set in 98, Sexual Tension, Love/Hate, Banter, Drugs, Sex mentioned, like a lot actually, Monroe Astor is a hoe, Will Astor being best boi and cousin, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Hedonism, Elliot Wright is coked out, Monroe Astor is brat, Monroe Astor-centric, implied catholic guilt, Monroe and Elliot are GELPHIE coded, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Not Beta Read We End Like The Symposium, I lied this is somewhat beta read

Summary:

Monroe Astor has never had a roommate before unless sleeping over after sex counts. Elliot Wright unfortunately has to live with him. Read as one of them tries not to perish from peril or fall deeply for the other. or Elliot & Monroe finally fulfill Glinda & Elphaba's enemies roommates to lovers arc.

Content Rating: Teen and Up.

Wordcount: 6,435

Notes: (Recommend y'all read on ao3 for better reading experience)

Welcome or Welcome back! To three people who read this very niche fic, here's a hello. This chapter is the longest and took the longest to write/edit. And I think it's my favorite thing I've written for this fic.

What to expect in this Chapter?: - This is the Piano chapter - Monroe and Elliot shenanigans - Plumber Elliot - The Symposium Club (Without Brooks) - Cass/Will mentioned Oh, hey, Florence, you're here too - Monroe and Elliot finally get somewhere

Chapter 4: One Month In

It had been 3 weeks and a half since classes started, and while Elliot had definitely mellowed out on the pure, unfiltered annoyingness, he was still pretty much the bane of Monroe’s existence .

But it didn’t matter. Because soon, very soon , Monroe would be rid of him or he would move out.

Will had promised he’d pull some strings, and see what could be done about the housing situation. Monroe was pretty sure they could just get Elliot kicked out for breaking campus rules or something.

Maybe it was the fact that he smoked inside — or the fact that he disabled the ancient barely functioning smoke detectors (and was at least courteous enough to crack a window).

It was only a matter of time. Of course, things have been going too well, that was until:

Monroe laid eyes on his grand piano— in pieces , (two or three big pieces) mind you—sitting outside their dorm like some kind of cursed artifact.

Sure, it might be an issue to assemble it only to have to disassemble it late due to the possibility of him moving out, but that was a problem for future Monroe .

Right now, all he cared about was getting it inside and setting it up so he could finally practice without a bunch of pretentious music nerds hovering over his shoulder, correcting his form like he hadn’t been playing since he could walk .

So when he wheeled the first massive part of the instrument into their room, and Elliot—lounging lazily on his bed with a cigarette dangling from his fingers—gave him a slow, deadpan blink, Monroe chose to ignore it.

Elliot sat up slightly, looking at the absurd amount of pieces now cluttering the room. “Oh my God,” he muttered. “Another one.”

Monroe huffed, shoving a massive chunk of the piano frame toward his side of the room. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“It’s kind of my business when you keep filling our already small-ass living space with expensive shit like we’re some married couple playing house.”

“Oh, trust me , we are not playing house. If we were, you’d be sleeping in a dog house.”

Elliot snorted. “Charming.” Then, after a beat: “That looks kinda heavy. Do you need some help?”

Monroe ran his hands through his coils. “You’re literally a walking skeleton . This thing might turn you into a bag of bones.”

Elliot just stared at him, unimpressed. “Okay, then,” he leaned back on his elbows, making no further attempt to offer assistance.

Monroe gritted his teeth. Fine . He didn’t need help. He was perfectly capable of assembling this himself. Completely alone .

Except, Jesus Christ , this thing was ridiculously heavy. And Monroe was not about to let his piano suffer at the hands of gravity . He adjusted his grip, attempting to lift one of the larger pieces, but in doing so, he knocked over a stack of books and a box of some other miscellaneous crap.

Monroe expected Elliot to laugh , maybe throw in some snide remark, but instead, in the corner of his eye, he saw Elliot… putting his things back . Carefully.

Weird.

Whatever. Not his problem.

For hours , Monroe wrestled with the damned piano, as it got deeper into the night and exhaustion finally got the best of him, he realized he wasn’t going to finish. It pissed him off. He wanted it done , but his arms were aching, and he was already half-dead from classes and everything else.

So, begrudgingly, he decided he’d finish it tomorrow.

With one final huff , he collapsed onto his bed, the piano pieces still strewn across the room, wrapped in protective plastic. He fell asleep like that, too tired to care anymore.

Monroe Astor blinked awake to soft light from the window. He yawned, stretching—

But then he saw what was reflecting the light onto him..

His piano. Fully assembled .

His brain took a moment to process what he was seeing. The massive instrument now sat perfectly in the window nook, like it had always been there, polished and pristine .

Monroe sat up abruptly, eyes darting across the room.

Elliot was nowhere to be seen.

The fuck ?

He threw off his blankets and crossed the room, running his hands over the sleek wood, fingers trailing over the keys. It was perfect . Almost like… like it had been put together by someone who knew what they were doing.

A weird feeling settled in his chest.

Why? Why the hell was Elliot being nice ?

He scowled, stepping back. It didn’t make sense . He was waiting for some kind of catch, some kind of reason —but there was nothing. Just the piano, whole and untouched, sitting in his space.

Will Astor barely even let Monroe take a bite of his salad before hitting him with, “Monroe, it’s barely been a month. Why did two of your professors already email me saying you struggle in class ?”

Monroe chewed slowly, making a show of savoring his bite before answering. “I’m just trying to live my college life.”

“And lectures aren’t included in your college life?”

“Not even in the slightest.”

Will did not laugh. In fact, his expression soured so hard that Monroe almost felt bad . Almost.

“We’re literally doing entry-level stuff,” Will pressed, his frustration already peaking. “How—why—what exactly are you doing all day?”

Monroe shrugged. “Not Purposive Communication , that’s for sure.”

“You didn’t show up for a single lecture,” Will said, his voice the kind of tight that meant he was this close to strangling him.

“Didn’t find the purpose in it,” Monroe quipped, smirking.

Will groaned, running his hands through his hair. “Fine. What about the History and Literature of Western Art Music? You liked History and Lit in High School.”

“Only because of Hamilton ,” Monroe said. “And, obviously, hot Greeks.”

Will shot him a look.

“Oh, and I guess Romeo and Juliet. But only if Leo plays Romeo.”

“Okay, let’s be serious.” Will’s tone went sharp, and Monroe knew he was really about to be in trouble. “Your professors wants to meet with you at four o’clock .”

Monroe paused, mid-reach for his fork. Oh .

“You think you can handle that?” Will asked, eyes narrowing like he already knew the answer.

Monroe had barely taken a seat before he decided he already hated Winston William.

First off, Winston William? That name sounded like he belonged in one of those serious dramas where the main character slowly spirals into despair while an unsettling orchestral score plays in the background.

And second, the bastard had the audacity to make Monroe wait for a full half-hour, sitting there like some hasbin with nothing to do. Every excruciating minute spent in this depressing office—under bad lighting was a minute wasted. Monroe could’ve been anywhere else. He could’ve been drinking. He could’ve been in bed. He could’ve been not here.

When Winston finally reappeared, Monroe glanced at his watch, then raised an unimpressed brow. “Did you have to birth the syllabus before coming back, or…?”

Winston ignored him. The TA sat down, folded his hands like some tired bureaucrat, and hit Monroe with:

“So, I imagine you know why you’re here.”

Monroe put on his best fake smile, the kind he reserved for professors and police officers. “Because you love my company?”

Winston exhaled through his nose in that particularly academic way that meant he wasn’t quite sighing, but definitely thinking about it. “You’ve missed multiple quizzes and nearly a test.”

For the record, he had intended to be on time for it. Unfortunately, he lived with a stoner who believed that morning arguments were just as essential as breakfast. By the time Monroe realized what time it was, he had to sprint across campus like his life depended on it.

(And he still missed half of it.)

“I’m here now,” Monroe said, flashing a grin. “Isn’t that what really matters?”

Winston was not amused.

“Professors don’t have the time to personally deal with students who—” A meaningful pause. “— struggle in class.”

Monroe blinked. Struggle?

He sat up straighter, mouth opening to argue, but Winston had already moved on.

“And while your legacy at this school might grant you certain… leniencies, even that won’t save you from the attendance policy.”

Monroe scowled at the mention of his “legacy.” It was always legacy this, legacy that , like he was some walking, talking tuition check instead of a person.

“Fine. What do you want me to do? Grovel? Pledge my eternal soul to Purposive Communication?”

“Since the sign-up day is at the end of the week. you’ll be required to join a club.”

That was going to be easy. He could join one of those meaningless ones that was until Monroe started paying attention again…

“A club. Associated with one of the two subjects you’ve missed. Attendance is mandatory.” The curly-haired TA adjusted his glasses, glancing down at his notes like he was reading Monroe’s death sentence. “This will count toward your participation grade. And if you fail to comply, you’ll be automatically dropped from the courses.”

Monroe inhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “This is actually my personal hell,” he muttered under his breath.

“There are several options to choose from—”

Monroe cut him off, resting his chin in his hand. “If I join and then quit after a week, will all of this be forgotten?”

Winston gave him a look —one that spoke volumes of how very little he cared for Monroe’s antics.

Monroe sighed. So that’s a no.

As he strolled out, he thought to himself that after dealing with that , he needed a Winston cigarette.

Or better yet, a drink.

Or better yet, a pastry.

Even if it was Wednesday. And technically his no-sugar day.

Monroe had had it .

Between Winston William (whose name alone made Monroe want to scream), the fact that he now had to join a club like some eager little freshman, and the agonizing lack of sugar in his system, he was already at his limit .

He wasn’t in the mood for anything else to go wrong. Which, of course, meant something had to.

Because when Monroe shoved open the door to his dorm, already halfway through peeling off his rain-damp blazer, he was greeted with— Water. A puddle of it, stretching from the bathroom tiles onto their floor like a crime scene, soaking into the hideous rug his dear cousin had gifted him because it looked expensive (it wasn’t). He could have ignored the rug—he’d always kind of hated the thing anyway—but then his gaze landed on him.

Elliot Wright.

Standing in the middle of it all, sleeves rolled up, hair damp, a wrench in one hand and a bucket in the other, looking like he was the more fucked up brother of Mario and Luigi. He looked perfectly at ease.

Monroe exhaled, sharp and slow. “What,” he said, voice flat, “on God’s earth am I looking at?”

The one with the mustache, wholly unbothered, glanced at him like he was the unreasonable one here. “Pipe burst.”

“Pipe burst?” Monroe echoed, voice climbing. “Are we—are we just saying things now? Because nothing was broken when I left.”

Elliot shrugged. “Technically, it wasn’t broken when you left, either .”

Monroe narrowed his eyes. “ What did you do ?”

Elliot sighed, setting the bucket down oh so pacific. “I was fixing the sink.”

“You broke the sink.”

“No, I was fixing it.”

“And then it broke.”

“Details.”

Monroe dragged a slow, exhausted hand down his face. “Why were you touching the sink?”

Elliot tilted his head, expression the picture of mild offense. “Because it was making that dripping noise all night. You didn’t hear it?”

Monroe, who could (and did) sleep through thunderstorms, fireworks, and his perfect cousin’s snoring, crossed his arms. “No.”

“Well, I did,” Elliot muttered. “And it was annoying .”

Monroe stared at him. “So, let me get this straight.” He took a step forward, shoes squelching into the rug ( he was going to kill him ).

“You were bothered by a little dripping noise—so you, a 2nd-year college student majoring in economics with zero plumbing experience, decided to take it upon yourself to fix it. And now—” He gestured wildly to the mini loch ness forming in their room. “—this is our reality.”

Elliot tilted his head. “I don’t think it was zero plumbing experience.”

“Oh, really ?”

“I watched a video.”

Monroe actually had to steady himself on the desk. “You watched a video ?”

“Yeah. It was like, five minutes long.”

Monroe squeezed his eyes shut, counted to five, and decided against homicide. “I cannot stress enough how much I hate you right now.”

“Noted,” Elliot muttered, adjusting his grip on the wrench.

Monroe turned, intent on storming out and finding someone—anyone—who knew what they were doing. But his foot slipped against the waterlogged floor, and suddenly, the world tilted.

He barely had time to brace himself before hands: warm a solid gripped his arms, steadying him before he could hit the ground.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Elliot’s grip was firm, fingers flexing just slightly before he let go. He was warm—unreasonably warm for someone who looked like he belonged in a morgue. Monroe’s pulse hammered, heat rushing to his face despite the cool dampness in the air.

And then he made the mistake of looking up.

Elliot was already watching him, gaze half-lidded, unreadable. There was something about the way he looked at him—It made him feel things that felt too sudden and new.

Monroe shoved him off, scowling. “If you ever touch me again—”

Elliot smirked. “You’ll what?”

Monroe clenched his jaw. “You don’t want to find out.”

Elliot laughed—low, quiet, and just a little bit mean.

Monroe wanted to shove him again. Maybe against the wall this time. Maybe—

He cut the thought off with a sharp inhale, turning on his heel before he could do something truly reckless. “I’m getting someone to fix this,” he snapped. “Someone who isn’t you.”

Elliot, the bastard, just leaned against the desk, watching him go, amused.

Monroe didn’t stop until he was halfway down the hall. And even then, he still felt Elliot’s hands on his arms.

"Have you heard anything back from the higher-ups?" Monroe asked, trying— failing —to sound casual despite the fact that every step of this run felt like punishment.

After the absolute disaster that was yesterday, he needed two things: a goddamn break and some good news.

Unfortunately, he had neither.

Will, of course, wasn’t even winded. The man ran like he had a hit on him. Monroe, on the other hand, was just trying not to die . His athleticism extended only to certain… other types of fun cardio.

“No,” Will finally answered, somehow maintaining that annoyingly even tone. “You do realize that rehousing students for your convenience takes time, right?”

"Ugh," Monroe groaned dramatically, throwing his head back mid-stride. "I don’t see why it has to. What’s so hard about moving me somewhere else ?"

Will gave him a look—the kind that said I don’t even have the energy to explain how the world works to you right now.

“Fill me in?” he asked dryly. “Are you about to get dropped by your professors?”

“Why do you always assume the worst?”

“Because being dramatic is in our genes,” The chesnut haired boy replied flatly. “And because I was already getting ready to call Mom again.”

“You say that like she wouldn’t just cut a check and have the problem disappear.” Monroe shot him a smug look. “I am her favorite. I’m practically your brother.”

Will didn’t respond, which meant Monroe wasn’t wrong.

"Anyways," Monroe continued, "I’m technically off the hook, but now I have to sign up for some stupid club associated with that snoozefest of a class—”

He didn’t even get to finish before Will came to an abrupt stop. Monroe, thrown off by the sudden lack of motion, nearly tripped over his own feet.

Will Astor ignored his suffering. "I think I have a solution."

Monroe perked up immediately. "If it’s bribery, I support it."

"No, idiot. My roommate is in this club—it’s aligned with one of your missed classes."

Will kept talking, his voice taking on that efficient, problem-solving tone he always used when Monroe made a mess of things. Monroe caught fragments—something about a symposium club, academic discourse, president, Cassius, his toxic ex—but none of it seemed relevant.

Honestly, Will’s taste in clubs was questionable at best. Monroe’s knowledge of clubs extended to the kind where drinks were poured, people were gorgeous, and nothing required effort. Student clubs, though? Those were Will’s boring little world.

But if Will was handling it, Monroe didn’t have to think about it. Which meant it was fine

“Monroe,” Will snapped, giving him a pointed look. “Are you even paying attention?”

"Yeah, yeah," Monroe said, waving a hand. "You signing me up or what?"

Will sighed again, clearly regretting his entire existence. "I’ll text you the details."

"Perfect." Monroe beamed. Problem solved. Crisis averted.

Will gave him one last look—something almost pitying , which Monroe chose to ignore—before picking up the pace.

"Alright, back to running."

Monroe stepped into the room, and immediately, the air shifted.

Maybe it was the dim, golden lighting, the way the sconces cast flickering shadows against dark wood paneling, or the looming oil portraits of dead, important men who were probably racist.

The whole place had the eerie atmosphere of something his pastor would’ve warned him about. He could practically hear the sermon now: Stay away from cults, Monroe. The devil is in discourse.

Of course, he was fashionably late. He’d taken his time getting here, if only to prove that he wasn’t desperate to be here. Not that he had any idea what this actually entailed. He’d googled the word symposium and still wasn’t completely sure. Something about speeches? Grecians and philosophers? Drinking wine and debating ideas?

Whatever it was, Will had made it sound easy enough. Show up, make an effort, and—

Monroe barely had time to process his regret before his gaze landed on Cassius Sinclair, the club’s president, seated dead center at the long table.

Cassius looked mousy in a very I’ve-read-too-many-books-and-now-I’m-smarter-than-you way. Slightly rumpled. Serious. Just by looking at him, Monroe could tell—this wasn’t some half-assed student org. This was the real thing.

Next to him, as expected, sat Will. Polished. Perfect. Chatting like this wasn’t the worst way to spend a Friday evening.

Then, there was Florence Cromwell. Tall, blonde, golden-boy Florence, who was more associated with squash, tennis, and frat parties than… whatever this was. The last time Monroe had seen him, he was wearing pastels and a smirk, probably hazing a freshman. And yet, here he was, looking entirely too comfortable, like he’d once bullied someone on a lacrosse field and then gone home to read The Iliad for fun.

Monroe barely spared them another glance before his attention landed on something far more important—Will’s famous Earl Grey lavender scones.

(Cassius probably begged him to bake those to convince more people to stay.)

Finally. Something good in this godforsaken place.

But just as his fingers grazed the plate, a presence settled beside him. Too close.

Monroe turned his head.

And there, standing like a ghost, was his roomie, Elliot Wright.

He wore a trench coat (buttoned all the way to the top, because of course he did).

Monroe hyperfocused on the bags under his eyes, choosing to ignore his stare, which was neither curious nor surprised. It was expectant, like he’d already known Monroe would try to take one, like he had been waiting for this exact moment.

And then, suddenly, it hit him. The night they got locked out before all of that happened, Cassius and Elliot had been talking at the party.

They knew each other.

Or worse.

They were friends.

Of course, they were.

Of course, this was his luck.

And if annoying Elliot in the process counted as entertainment? So be it.

He sauntered over to the long table, flashing Elliot a bright, saccharine smile as he pulled out the chair right next to Will and dropped into it.

“Elliot,” he said smoothly, voice almost purring. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

His roommate arched a single, unimpressed brow.

But Monroe, ever persistent, didn’t let the lack of reaction deter him. He just pulled the seat next to Will.

Will, who had seen this play out before, offered a small, knowing smile. “ Well, I’m glad you made it.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” Monroe grumbled.

He leaned back in his chair, then immediately decided that wasn’t annoying enough. He started tapping Will’s shoulder.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

Will sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What?”

“Are more people going to show up?” Monroe asked, still tapping.

“We had like three other people sign up. Hope they’ll actually show up,” Will replied, shaking his cousin off with the practiced ease of someone who had dealt with him their entire life.

Monroe hummed, unconvinced. “I doubt it. The club is literally hidden in the corner of the library like some sort of secret society. Not exactly a welcoming environment.”

“That’s kind of the point ,” Will said.

Monroe just shrugged, but before he could press further, Cassius made an attempt to get everyone’s attention.

He clapped his hands—softly, hesitantly—like he wasn’t entirely sure he had the authority to demand the room’s focus.

Which, considering no one immediately turned to him, was a fair assumption.

Cassius cleared his throat, trying again. “Since it’s nearly six, and we’re already late enough, I guess we should start.”

Will, without looking up, muttered, “When have you ever been on time?” The question was more for himself than anyone else, but Monroe didn’t miss the weird little smile on his cousin’s face

“I’m Cassius Sinclair, welcoming you to Symposium Club,” he said, doing his best to sound presidential. It half-worked. “Glad to see we have three new members.”

Monroe wasn’t paying attention anymore.

Elbow propped on the table, chin in his hand, he was already zoning out. His eyes flickered to Elliot, who was sitting in the exact same posture—except Elliot’s was lazy.

And if Monroe wasn’t mistaken, the corner of his roommate’s mouth twitched, just slightly.

“We’ll hear from someone who experienced this last year,” Cassius continued. “Elliot, take it away.”

Elliot’s brows shot up. He blinked. “What?”

Cassius gave him a pointed look.

Elliot scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, right. Yeah. This club is, like, alright, I guess. We do readings, and then we discuss them, and other stuff… um… we drink wine—”

“We don’t drink anymore,” Cassius cut in quickly, shifting in his chair.

“Wait. We don’t ?” Elliot frowned.

Cassius’ eyes went wide, clearly trying to signal for him to drop it . “The school board,” he said through gritted teeth.

“That’s tragic,” Florence finally spoke up, crossing his arms. “My brother was in this club a couple of years ago. He always made it sound a little more… I don’t know, exciting? “

Cassius goes rigid.

Elliot smirked slightly but didn’t answer.

“What?” Florence pressed. “You guys don’t do initiations anymore? He said they were insane back when he was here.”

Cassius and Elliot exchanged a look.

Then Cassius, far too quick to shut it down, said, “We… don’t do those anymore.”

Florence squinted at him, unimpressed. “Yeah, but why ?”

Elliot, unbothered, shrugged. “Some things are better left in the past.”

That only made Florence more suspicious. “Oh, that sounds ominous as hell.”

Cassius shot Elliot another look, but Elliot just smirked.

Monroe, meanwhile, had already tuned most of this out. His head rested on his hand, eyes heavy-lidded with boredom as he tried—really, tried —to pay attention. But honestly? Whatever the hell they were talking about barely registered.

He was, however, mildly entertained by the fact that Cassius was so obviously uncomfortable.

Maybe this club would be fun after all.

The first meeting of the Symposium Club wasn’t as dull as Monroe had anticipated. Begrudgingly, he’d admit that—if only to himself. He had tried to pay attention, and in the midst of all the pretentious rambling, the club actually had some interesting points. Useful ones, even.

Not that he’d ever let Cassius know that.

Still, the second they wrapped up, Monroe stretched out his arms and sighed dramatically. “Alright, that was cute ,” he said, standing up. “But I’m not wasting a Friday evening. Who’s coming out?”

Florence, who had been balancing his chair on its back two legs, let it drop forward with a clatter. “Freddie’s throwing a party off campus,” he said, brushing nonexistent dust from his lap.

“Should be good. Sign me up.”

In the corner, Will and Cassius had been whispering, laughing—Cassius’ hand resting suspiciously close to Will’s wrist. Monroe rolled his eyes at them. Something up with those two .

Will turned to Cassius. “You up for it?”

Cassius hesitated. Just for a second. Then he straightened, schooling his features into something nonchalant. “We used to do this after every meeting,” he mused, as if reminiscing on something far more profound than a bunch of college kids getting wasted in someone else’s house. “I’m down for a bit of fun as long as your in.”

Monroe smirked. He knew the Astor persuasion was strong.

But then—

“I’m going back to the dorm,” Elliot replied flatly, not even bothering to turn around. “Feel sick.”

Monroe let out a sharp laugh. “You’re sick? Since when?”

Elliot stopped in the doorway, sighing like this entire interaction was physically draining. “Since now.”

Monroe crossed his arms. “Uh-huh.”

Because Elliot Wright was always sick. Or, at the very least, he always looked sick—the nicotine, the substances, the complete disregard for a proper sleep schedule. Frankly, Monroe was surprised he was still functioning.

But this was different.

This wasn’t the usual Elliot, dragging himself through life, half-dead from his own choices.

Monroe tilted his head, watching him carefully. “You sure?”

Elliot exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. “Positive.”

And just like that, he disappeared down the hall.

Monroe clicked his tongue against his teeth. Suspicious. Very suspicious. But fine. If Elliot wanted to miss out, that was his problem.

Monroe turned back to the group. “Well,” he said, all faux brightness. “Guess it’s just us.”

And just like that, the night began.

The night ended at 2 a.m. in a haze of nicotine, dopamine, and whatever else had managed to seep into Monroe’s bloodstream. He jumbled with his keys, his fingers sluggish, his mind pleasantly numbed by the remnants of the night. His face was littered with lipstick stains—souvenirs from hands he wouldn’t remember in the morning. It had been a good night. A fun night.

Which was why, when he pushed open the door to their dorm, he fully expected to be greeted by the pitch-black abyss Elliot usually cloaked himself in. That and maybe the smell of cheap cigarettes, or the distant hum of whatever pretentious indie band Elliot was obsessed with this week.

But instead—

Warm light bathed the room, the soft amber glow stretching over the floorboards, making the space look softer, fuller. And more than that, there was music. Not some sleazy, moody record. Not The Godforsaken Smiths—thank God. No, this was—

Monroe blinked.

Elliot was at his piano.

And he was playing.

Monroe leaned against the doorframe, watching as Elliot’s fingers ghosted over the keys with an ease that made his stomach turn with something unfamiliar. Monroe had an ear for music—he could recognize a song within seconds, could tell you the artist, the album, the year it came out. He was a human Shazam app.

But he didn’t recognize this.

This wasn’t classical. This wasn’t some obscure deep cut from a vinyl no one else owned. This very much sounded like an original.

And suddenly, Monroe felt the strangest impulse to listen. To just be still and listen.

But, of course, that was never his strong suit.

He crept forward, careful, careful, careful—except Monroe was never careful, and the studded keys on his belt loop jingled at the worst possible moment.

Elliot froze.

And when he turned, he had the look of a man who had just accidentally tweeted a slur.

“Uh—Monroe—I can explain—”

Monroe just looked at him. The raw panic in Elliot’s eyes, the way his shoulders curled in like he was bracing for impact—it made something uncomfortable settle in Monroe’s chest.

Jesus. Had he really been that awful?

He should’ve been mad. It was his piano, after all. But—

“You play?” Monroe asked and then Elliot’s tense posture loosened, ever so slightly, with relief.

“You could say that,” Elliot said hesitantly.

Monroe took another step forward, eyes drifting to the sheets of music propped up against the stand. Notes scrawled in ink, deliberate and precise. And there, at the bottom of the page—

“Did you compose that?”

Elliot stiffened. “Perhaps.”

Monroe snorted. “Perhaps?” He tapped a finger against the page. “You literally signed your name under the title.”

Elliot swallowed. Monroe read the title aloud, voice dripping with amusement: A Love That Never Learned to Speak.

“Jesus Christ, you are so pretentious,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Elliot sighed through his nose, clearly regretting every life decision that had led him to this moment. “Are you going to keep making fun of me, or—”

“Depends. You gonna be coy all night?” Monroe teased, nudging him with his knee. “It’s nearly three in the morning. I think we can skip the cryptic bullshit.”

Elliot exhaled sharply, but Monroe didn’t miss the way his shoulders eased just a little.

“…You’re not mad I touched your stuff?” Elliot asked, quieter this time, almost pathetic—like he expected Monroe to rip him apart for it. And something about that made Monroe feel… guilty.

He had been a dick to him, hadn’t he?

“Oh, trust me, I am mad,” Monroe said. “But since you play well, you’re off the hook, Music Man.”

Elliot gave him a flat look.

“Why didn’t you tell me you play? Let alone compose?” Monroe pressed, sliding onto the bench beside him. “I could’ve been rooming with Tchaikovsky this entire time.”

Elliot gave him a look. “You didn’t give me much of an opportunity to share.”

And ouch. That stung a little. Tiny bullets to Monroe’s chest.

Elliot sighed, shaking his head. “Besides, this stuff is just what I do for fun.”

“Well, since it’s for fun…” Monroe slipped in beside him, shoulder brushing his lightly. He was close enough now to smell the lingering scent of smoke clinging to Elliot’s clothes. “Can I play it?”

Elliot didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at Monroe—eyes dark, unreadable—and then, finally, he nodded.

They started from the beginning. Monroe kept up at first, but his fingers fumbled on a tricky passage, and in the brief moment of distraction, his hand grazed Elliot’s. The touch was fleeting—pale, freckled skin against Monroe’s own—but it sent a sharp, static-like current through his nerves.

“I promise you, I’m better at sight reading,” Monroe said, shaking off the weird feeling. “I’m just a little buzzed, you know?”

Elliot hummed.

“But this is actually—genuinely gorgeous.” Monroe turned to him, searching. “Why haven’t you pursued music?”

Elliot’s fingers faltered. The smallest flinch.

“Have you ever pursued fashion just because you like it?” The words snapped out before Elliot could stop them, sharp and defensive. His lips pressed together immediately after, like he regretted it. “Yeah—sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Monroe said. Normally, he would’ve snapped back. But not now.

They continued to play. The melody picked up again. Then, this time, Elliot missed a note—his hand brushing against Monroe’s.

Monroe didn’t move.

“Do you wanna know?” he asked, voice low.

Monroe didn’t look at him, but he could feel him there, close enough that the heat of his body radiated into the space between them.

“Know what?”

“Why I didn’t pursue music.”

Elliot kept his eyes on the piano, fingers still resting against the keys. “Because I’m pretty sure my father would’ve killed me if I did.”

Monroe inhaled. Oh.

Elliot gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “That’s why I’m a little—no, not a little—I am envious of you.” His voice was distant, almost detached, like he wasn’t even talking to Monroe but just saying the words aloud for the first time. “You get to do whatever you want, be whoever you want. No amount of anything can make me feel free like you.”

Monroe had heard people be jealous of him before. It wasn’t new. But not like this. Not in a way that made his chest ache.

Elliot shook his head. “I don’t even know why I’m saying this to you. It’s the drugs talking. You probably don’t care about your stoner roommates' random musings.”

Monroe just looked at him. For once, he didn’t have a clever remark. Didn’t want to ruin the moment with something stupid. For the first time, the room was peaceful.

Elliot exhaled a little bit too loudly before standing up. His movements were slow and deliberate, like he was pulling himself out of something deep. Monroe wanted to say something— anything —but words felt slippery in his mouth, refusing to form the way he wanted them to.

“Forget I said anything. Good Night, Monroe”

Monroe blinked as Elliot turned away, heading for his side of the room. And that was it. Just like that, the conversation was over.

He watched as Elliot padded across the floor, already reaching for the pack of cigarettes Monroe knew he’d sworn he’d run out of. He thought about stopping him. Thought about saying something that would fix the ugly thing pressing against his ribs, something that would smooth this over, something that would—

What? Make him feel better?

The guilt was crawling up his spine now, slow and suffocating. Monroe knew he hadn’t been the best roommate, but he had never really thought about it before. He had been annoyed— so fucking annoyed. But maybe Elliot wasn’t just naturally insufferable. Maybe it was a defense mechanism. Or worse—maybe Monroe had made him worse.

He wanted to blame it on his Aries sun. His Leo rising. His inherent fire sign energy.

But astrology wasn’t the reason he was an asshole. That one was all him.

He sighed, dragging a hand through his curls before moving toward Elliot’s side of the room. He didn’t know what he was going to say. He just figured, like everything else, the words would come when he needed them.

And then—

Pain. Sharp, sudden, searing up from the bottom of his foot.

Monroe bit his lip to hold back the very unflattering yelp threatening to break free, his eyes darting downward. There—glinting under the warm light—was a tiny shard of glass. The same glass from that fucking ashtray Wright shattered weeks ago.

Elliot saw it immediately. “Are you okay?”

“It’s ok. I’m ok,” Monroe gritted out.

Elliot’s gaze flickered to his raised foot, the tiny smear of blood trailing across the floor. “Yeah, that looks like you're pretty okay to me.”

Monroe let out an exasperated breath. “ It’s fine .”

But Elliot was already moving, grabbing his desk chair and dragging it over with a scrape of wood against wood. “Sit.”

“I don’t—”

“Sit down, Astor. ”

Monroe clenched his jaw but sat, begrudgingly. “I’m not a child, Wright—”

“Then stop acting like one,”

Elliot grabbed a pair of tweezers from his desk, muttering something under his breath about drama queens before angling the metal tip toward the shard. Monroe tensed, curling his fingers into his palms.

Monroe flinched away, instinctive.

Something about this—about Elliot helping him —made his throat feel tight.

He wasn’t used to this. Not like this. Sure, he was used to being taken care of, used to being fussed over, used to occupying the center of someone’s attention. But this was different. Different in a way that made his skin itch.

“You don’t have to—”

“Oh, shut up and stay still.”

Monroe huffed, shifting uncomfortably. “ You’re the one who left broken glass lying around.”

Elliot didn’t even look up. “Never said it wasn’t my fault. But it’s not my foot that got stabbed, so.”

Monroe inhaled sharply.

Elliot was careful. Weirdly careful. His fingers were cold, bony, steady as he worked, his brows furrowed in concentration. He pressed lightly against Monroe’s ankle, grounding him, pulling the shard free in one smooth motion. It shouldn’t have been anything. It wasn’t anything.

So why did Monroe’s skin feel hot?

He blamed the alcohol. Yeah . That made sense.

Monroe cleared his throat, shifting against the chair, suddenly desperate to break the weird tension. “I, uh—” He paused. What the fuck was he even trying to say?

Elliot glanced up, skeptical. “You uh?”

Monroe sighed, tipping his head back. “This,” he gestured vaguely, “this whole thing, you fixing me up, my foot bleeding, I wanted to say something.” he exhaled through his nose, a little too sharply. He wasn’t good at this. Apologizing . But he was trying.

“I was…” Monroe licked his lips. “I was a bit of a dick before.”

Elliot snorted.

Monroe narrowed his eyes. “Do you want an apology or not?”

“I want you to stop moving ,” Elliot replied dryly, still focused on the tweezers.

Monroe opened his mouth to argue—but then Elliot pressed a disinfectant wipe against the cut, and he flinched.

Elliot smirked. “Oh, sorry. Did that hurt?”

Monroe glared. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Mm. Tempting.”

Monroe tried again. “I am sorry.”

Elliot hummed noncommittally. Then, after a moment—“Are you sorry because you feel bad, or are you sorry because you think you’re supposed to be?”

Monroe’s lips parted—then shut again.

…Well, shit.

He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Elliot let out a breath, shaking his head. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to answer.”

Monroe scoffed but didn’t argue. Because technically, he was at Elliot’s mercy. And Elliot—infuriating, broody, insufferable Elliot—was being so goddamn careful, so goddamn nice about it, that Monroe didn’t know what to do with himself.

Elliot finished wrapping the cut, patting Monroe’s ankle in mock sympathy. “There. All better. Now you can go back to being a menace.”

“Didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t.” Elliot rolled his eyes, standing up and tossing the tweezers back onto his desk before stretching his arms above his head, his shirt riding up slightly.

Monroe very pointedly did not look.

Elliot sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Good night, Monroe Astor.”

No venom. No sarcasm. No veiled threat tucked beneath his words. Just… Monroe’s name , said plainly.

Monroe hesitated, watching as Elliot turned toward his bed.

“…Good night, Wright.”

Notes: Shoutout to my last post that got 0 notes. The Glory & Gore BRAINROT is real. Feel free to send comments on my AO3 or on here and yk send request on my blog if you want.

#glory and gore #glory and gore tv #dark academia #wicked 2024 #wicked #glory & gore #elliot wright #monroe astor #lgbt #gay #gay fanfiction #ao3 #gelphie inspired #dead poets society #and they were roommates

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