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lupizora · 1 year ago

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(This was my entry to the @/dcmkkaishinevents server's One Prompt Challenge of 2024 with the theme: He was, unfortunately, very handsome. Things became pretty chaotic ever since I posted it on AO3 back in the end of March, so I kind of forgot to post it here too hahah 😅 Hope you have a good time reading it!)

Title: Healing Touch

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: KaiShin

Rating: M (TW: Hospitals, hints to Suicidal Ideation, Minor Medical Procedures)

Word Count: 2,545

Summary: [Is it a dance, if they’re both pretending?] or Kaito wakes up in the hospital after crash-landing his glider, only to find Shinichi in the neighboring bed (who, for reasons unknown, is acting as if finding an unmasked KID is nothing out of the ordinary)

Voices ebbed and flowed like waves on a distant rocky shore.

Kaito was drifting in and out of consciousness.

The steady beeping from some kind of machinery and several shoes scuffing hurriedly on the floor served as additional undertones to his surroundings. Amid this cacophony, the voices were something substantial to lock on and focus. Each individual's timbre, from high and squeaky to low and sonorous, carried its own melody and tune. Speech patterns and word choices could reveal a lot about a person’s inner world. But none of these were an exact science.

Kaito hadn’t perfected his ability to that degree anyway.

It had begun as a game with his father. Back then, Kaito had been absorbing every trick in the book—even if his application of it turned out lacking. He had to experiment and learn as much as he could before settling on his path as a magician. Mimicking voices had been just one of those skills he shelved away as a kid, deeming it useless for anything other than practical jokes and pranks.

The irony was not lost on Kaito when impersonating anyone at the drop of a hat became vital to his career as the Phantom Thief KID. He had stumbled at first, his years of idleness making his voice crack at all the wrong times. But he persisted and insisted; until the disguises were the disposable props in this equation.

Now even that doesn’t matter.

Kaito’s first coherent thought blazed through his mind like a flash fire. It startled him, dispelling the hazy murmur of voices in the background.

Awareness returning to his body, Kaito found himself lying on a soft but firm mattress. Every part of him throbbed with the dull tune of pain. His left hand, draped over the edge of the bed, had some kind of object tugging uncomfortably at the inner side of his elbow. Something warm and featherweight was pressed against the back of his curled fingers. Kaito used this sensation to ground himself in reality and took a deep breath.

The sterile smell of antiseptic filled his lungs, the conversations around him clearing up enough for him to understand solid words. Somebody was calling for a nurse. Another was complaining about how long they had been waiting. A kid wailed in the distance, akin to an ambulance’s siren.

A hospital? Kaito wondered before his memories breached the fuzzy dam of sweet bliss. Realization hit him with the same force he had smashed on the ground. A hospital!

Kaito sat up in a hurry.

His heart hammered like a caged bird in his chest.

Light assaulted his eyes, burning them with its whiteness.

Disorientated, he blindly patted his arm.

Soft tube.

Under his skin.

Probably an IV.

Just as he took hold of it, ready to pull, a foreign hand grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t yank it out!” This voice—young, male, authoritative—tickled the edge of familiarity.

Opening slowly his bleary eyes, the fuzzy figure of a person greeted Kaito.

The other guy was leaning sideways from the neighboring bed. His deathly grip on the headboard prevented him from keeling over the space between them. Attached to the arm he was using to hold Kaito’s wrist—right above the turned-up sleeve of a white shirt—he had an IV drip of his own.

“Are you stupid?” he asked, heaving. “You’ll bleed out if you pull it like that.”

Even the chewing out sounds familiar, Kaito lamented in the privacy of his head. Where’s my brilliant quick thinking? I could use some help right about now…

There was one curious detail he was starting to notice though. His previously spiked heartbeat had slowed down.

Odd.

The other gently shook Kaito’s arm. “Hey, are you with me?”

“Yeah. All my marbles are their rightful in place.” Kaito shook his head. “I mean. I’m aware and listening. Can I have my hand back?”

“If you promise me that you won’t do anything hasty, and will let me take a look at it.”

Kaito’s vision, like a viewfinder coming into focus, finally cleared. Realizing who was the altruist worrying for his health, only served to complicate things further. Since the person who had immediately jumped into action to help him was no other than the Great Detective in the flesh.

Although, upon closer inspection, Shinichi looked quite haggard himself. His suit pants were peppered with shallow cuts. If the discoloration of skin near his collarbone was any indication, more bruises were blooming under his shirt. Thankfully, his face didn’t suffer a lot of damage besides a split lower lip and a scratch on his forehead.

Shinichi cocked his eyebrow towards that exact wound. “So?”

Kaito blinked. Right. He’s expecting a reply.

“Sure, I promise.”

“Good,” Shinichi breathed out.

After going through the motions of sitting properly at the edge of the bed, he flagged down a nurse for fresh gauze and latex gloves. The nurse asked some standard questions to Kaito, but otherwise, she didn’t seem bothered by Shinichi’s request.

If anything, Kaito was the one puzzled that his name didn’t receive any reaction. So, while the Great Detective was preparing to help him out of the IV drip, Kaito took stock of his own appearance. The answer staring back at him was ridiculously simple. He was wearing his slacks and a hoodie instead of the KID outfit. No wonder he hadn’t been recognized.

But this brings another question, doesn’t it? Kaito thought. Should I play the fool?

Gloved fingers trailing against his forearm snapped him back into the present. In any other situation, this could have been part of some nightmare. Kaito had seen his fair share of quack doctors performing horror surgeries on him if he ever got his hands on Pandora.

But Shinichi sat still. His expression relaxed and open, offering an invitation for Kaito to take the initiative. It was so bizarre to be treated like a regular civilian without any mask or disguise to hide behind.

Against his better judgment, Kaito placed his arm in the Great Detective’s hands.

They were warm. His fingers gently prodded the area around the inserted tube, picking apart the dressing and the transparent tape holding it in place. Quite not as surprisingly, Shinichi was putting the same care and attention he allotted to clues and evidence onto this.

Kaito felt a little twitchy being scrutinized like that, even if it wasn’t for doing something illegal. Years of muscle memory from soccer balls flying at high velocity toward his face were hard to override.

So, he opted for some small talk. “What are you, an intern?”

“No. I’m a detective,” Shinichi deadpanned.

“What?!” Kaito made a show of trying to pull his hand away. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Yes. I may not be a physician, but I know a few key things. Waiting for the coroner to make the first call is tedious. Sometimes, I need to identify the proper cause of death and find the culprit before it’s too late.” Shinichi’s hold remained steady and gentle. “Now, stop squirming. You will aggravate it.”

“Aye, sir.”

As more skin was becoming more visible by the minute, the unpleasant kind of squirming settled in his gut.

Kaito redirected his gaze to the room around them. Their beds were occupying the corner near the end of the Emergency Room. A beige curtain separated them from the rest of the beds in their line-up and their occupants, giving them a little privacy. Not that Kaito minded. Not at all, actually. There were worse people to get stuck in the hospital with, more so having them witness his earlier freakout. He wasn’t here as KID, after all.

“Alright. I’m ready,” Shinichi said. “This is going to hurt a little. So, stay still.”

Your understanding of “a little” might be kinda skewed, Detective. Kaito nodded despite his reservations.

Furrowing his brows, Shinichi seemed to search for something in Kaito’s expression. “If it’s making you nervous, you could close your eyes.”

“Thanks, but that would have the opposite effect. I can’t leave the fate of my arm to some run-of-the-mill sleuth, can I?” Kaito crumbled the sheets with his free hand. “Put yourself in my shoes. Who are you, acting all nonchalant without a license?”

Shinichi chuckled. It was short-lived and almost unnoticeable, but the soft sound of it rattled Kaito to the bone.

“I’m kind of a big deal though,” Shinichi meekly said. “I just don’t like bragging about it anymore. Brings more trouble than it’s worth.”

Kaito wanted to laugh at this scenario reaching a new level of absurdity. Instead, he closed his eyes. “Okay, Mr. Hot Stuff. We both have places to be—stuff to do. Let's get this over with.”

He received only an agreeable hum in return. Shinichi’s fingers tightened around Kaito's elbow while his other hand started the procedure. All things considered, the pain wasn’t worse than getting shot at or whenever the belts of KID’s glider would dig deeper after a risky maneuver. Still uncomfortable, still painful. Kaito had never thought he would want to hide his emotions behind a Poker Face for something like this. But he came close, moments before it was over.

Pressing the folded gauze at the wound, Shinichi instructed Kaito how to keep applying pressure to it for a bit. “You took it like a champ,” he added with a smile. “I haven’t heard of anyone holding themselves this well together.”

“What can I say? My pain tolerance might be higher than I expected. Although—” Kaito leaned forward, scoffing— “I have to hope this wasn’t an experiment on your part.”

“Do I look like that sort of person?” Shinichi said, placing the remnants in the porcelain bowl the nurse had provided. His posture gave nothing away. Even the act of taking off his gloves, to throw them away, was done with a grace usually reserved for springing up his deductions on suspects.

What you look like right now is, unfortunately, a very handsome bastard. How did you become so smooth while I wasn’t looking for a couple of years?

Kaito’s inner complaints screeched to a halt when Shinichi took ahold of his hand again.

“May I ask what are you doing, Detective…sir?” Kaito squeaked.

“I noticed something while taking out your IV. Your arm is covered by scratches at weird angles.” Shinichi’s fingers trailed lightly along the wounds from elbow to wrist. “As if you dropped from the air into several thorny bushes and rolled down a hill full of them.”

This conjecture, while close, was not exactly accurate. Kaito had indeed crash-landed earlier amidst one of the parks still retaining its wild forest roots. But the weird angle came from the glider flying through the foliage before hitting the ground. It left Kaito wondering if the Great Detective was losing his touch or if this was the real test appearing at last.

Shinichi didn’t comment on the other’s prolonged silence. His inspection had reached Kaito’s palm and fingers. “These nicks here are more varied. Some old, some new. They are usually made from shuffling cards.” Looking up, he leveled his gaze with Kaito’s. “Are you a gambler?”

Kaito was positive he was messing with him—to what end, was still to be determined. “Sure. I've gambled my life on something that didn't matter in the end. One might say I wanted to soothe my frustrations with this daredevilish stunt today.”

Shinichi's expression darkened.

“I'm only kidding,” Kaito said with a self-deprecating laugh. “These are from practicing tricks. I'm a budding magician, as a side gig and all.”

“So, you're just an adrenaline junkie.” There it was—that troubled furrow on his brow again. “I find it hard to believe when the proof of your hard work is right in front of me.”

Offering a one-shouldered shrug, Kaito used his free hand to sweep Shinichi’s bangs away from his eyes. “Is it that hard? All great artists hit a wall they can’t overcome at some point. Inspiration dries up. Ideas aren’t working, not due to lack of trying, but from the sheer effort they need to come to fruition. Sometimes, there is nothing more you can do than give up and—”

The words stopped in Kaito’s throat. Shinichi had laced their fingers together.

“No,” the Great Detective said; a simple declaration ringing like the true final one. “You don’t get to throw down the mantle until I catch you fair and square, or you find what you’ve been looking for all along. Use me if you have to! I won’t settle for anything less.”

Laughter exploded; loud, unrestrained, and unapologetic. It took a moment for Kaito to recognize it was coming from him. He didn’t stop though. He laughed and laughed and laughed until he was running out of air. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes and he wiped them out with the back of his free hand. All the while, Shinichi didn’t let go.

“You are truly an incomprehensible piece of work. You know that, right?” Kaito asked, after coming down from his outburst. “What sort of detective sides with the internationally wanted thief? And for what?”

Shinichi glanced at their joined hands. “The kind of selfish idiot who doesn’t want to let go of the thief that easily. Can’t have you dying on me before I solve your case.”

“I’m not—is that why you’re here? I’m pretty sure I called the ambulance myself!”

“You did, huh?” Shinichi cupped his chin in thought. “Was I that wrong in my estimate?”

“Yes. Maybe? It was a lapse of judgment on my part. I still very much like living, I’ll have you know!” A headache was building behind his eyes, so Kaito buried his face in Shinichi’s shoulder. He didn’t miss the flinch. “How did you end up here, if it wasn’t on purpose? Messed with the wrong crowd again?”

“Believe it or not, today was a lapse of judgment for me too.”

“The scandal!”

Shinichi pinched Kaito’s cheek. “I let my guard down during surveillance. Those mobsters I was following jumped me when I was least expecting it.”

“Mobsters? Wasn’t that a little out of your depth? I thought private investigators mostly deal with hunting down cheaters and marriage affairs, that sort of stuff?”

“A case is a case as long as it’s interesting.”

It was Kaito’s turn to give him a once-over. “Good thing they didn’t damage your face too badly. Your mother would have cried rivers upon rivers of tears.”

“As if you care about that. It would have been harder to impersonate me. That’s all,” Shinichi said with an eye roll.

“Am I such a despicable person in your eyes? I simply expressed my genuine worries about your health.” Cupping Shinichi’s chin, Kaito run his thumb over the split lip. “Is that too much for my reckless, handsome Great Detective?”

Slipping from Kaito’s loose hold, Shinichi pushed him back to his own bed. He quickly laid down himself. “The painkillers in your system are messing with your brain. Get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning, you weirdo.”

Although Shinichi’s back was turned, Kaito could swear he heard him say: “Take better care of yourself, idiot thief. You're not half-bad either.”

#kaishin #dcmk #detective conan #dcmk fanfic #dcmk fic #magic kaito #case closed #kuroba kaito #kaitou kid #kudou shinichi #fanfiction #fanfic #future fic #wolfswriting #I'm still not sure if posting the entire thing along with the AO3 link is actually working #but oh well ¯\ (ツ) /¯#Also I wanted to make a banner for it like I did for ghosts but nothing really clicked T^T #regardless thank you to all of you who have read it so far! ♥

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mjonthetrack · 1 month ago

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bell - book IV

Chapter Fifty-Two – The First

The blunt burned slow between his fingers, the end glowing faintly in the dim room light, smoke curling in lazy trails toward the ceiling. Monique lay back on the bed with one leg bent, the curve of her thigh brushing the outside of his knee where he sat beside her. Her braids spilled around her shoulders, her lips still pink from their last kiss.

She wasn’t looking at him.

Not fully.

Her eyes were on the ceiling, a slight furrow in her brow, one hand resting on her stomach. There was quiet between them now—just the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of the hotel settling.

And that silence said more than all the shit they’d screamed in the last few days.

“You good?” Jey asked, low.

Monique’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t make it all the way.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “You?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned over and placed the blunt into the ashtray on the nightstand, grinding the end out slow. When he turned back, he let his weight stretch across the mattress beside her, facing her now.

“I ain’t been good since I was seventeen,” he said finally, voice rough.

That made her look at him.

For real.

And Jey didn’t look away.

“You wanna talk about that now?” she asked, not mocking—just tired. Maybe even a little scared of the answer.

He didn’t say yes. Didn’t say no either. Just reached out and ran a finger along the inside of her wrist.

“You ever wonder what we would’ve been if he hadn’t—”

“Don’t,” she cut in, voice sharp and shaky. “Don’t say that shit.”

“I do,” he said, eyes steady. “Every fuckin’ day. For sixteen years. What we could’ve been. What we might’ve had if—”

Monique sat up too fast. Her chest heaved. “And you think I don’t?! That I didn’t hate myself for every moment I wanted you back then? Even while I was with him?”

Her voice cracked.

That stopped him cold.

She clenched her jaw and wiped at her eyes, fierce like always—but raw now too, bleeding under the skin.

“You were his,” she whispered. “And I loved him.”

“I know.”

Her chest trembled. “But I never stopped wanting you.”

That broke something in both of them.

Jey sat up slow, moving in until his legs framed hers. He leaned in, brushing his forehead to hers, his voice thick.

“You think I ain’t know? You think I didn’t feel that shit every time you looked at me and had to look away?”

Monique's hands slid into his hair without thought, clinging.

“I used to go home with his damn cologne still on me and cry because I knew I wanted his brother,” she confessed, shaking. “That’s not something you get over, Jey. That’s a sin that don’t wash off.”

He kissed her then.

Not like before.

Not heated or hungry or cocky.

But deep and aching. Like prayer. Like apology.

And when she melted into him, it was with all the broken pieces they’d been carrying since seventeen.

Their hands found each other. Fingers laced.

And for the first time since she stepped foot on the compound—

They stopped running.

Chapter Fifty-Three – Something Insane

“Where the hell is your cousin?”

Zilla’s voice was sharp as he glanced around the breakfast table at the beachside café. Luis shrugged with a mouthful of pineapple, but Tiffany raised an eyebrow, reaching for her mimosa with the kind of side-eye that said she already knew something.

“They ain’t showin’ up,” Katara said calmly, rocking baby Tehoni on her hip. “Leave them be.”

Zilla narrowed his eyes. “Last time they was around each other, she slapped him so hard I heard that shit from inside.”

Jacob stood up from the table without a word. Just tossed his napkin down and motioned for Zilla to follow. They moved in unspoken sync across the resort courtyard, past palm trees and sun-drunk tourists, straight to the tower suites.

Jacob tapped the card to the door.

No answer.

Zilla knocked harder. “Jey! Yo, you good, uce?”

Nothing.

A moment passed.

Then another.

And then Jacob looked at Zilla, sighed, and used the card.

The door opened.

And the two of them froze in the entryway.

“What the—”

The suite was hazy with smoke.

Thick, pungent, and unmistakably loud.

On the king bed, side by side like two happy delinquents, lay Jey and Monique, sprawled on their backs. Laughing. Eyes red. Munchies spread out like a picnic across the sheets—open bags of Doritos, peach rings, half a chocolate muffin, an empty bottle of Henny.

“Bro…” Zilla choked, staring.

Jey blinked at them slowly. “Y’all in my room?”

Monique burst out laughing next to him, smacking his arm. “I told you I heard voices, dumbass.”

Zilla stepped in, waving the smoke away with his palm. “Yo. Are y’all high right now?”

“Define high,” Monique mumbled, still giggling.

Jacob just stood there. Silent. Brow raised.

Jey turned his head toward him and grinned like a goddamn teenager.

“We good, big cuz. Real good.”

“You look like y’all smoked the devil’s front lawn,” Jacob muttered, scrubbing a hand over his beard.

“You want some?” Monique asked sweetly, sitting up with a slow sway, her box braids falling everywhere. “We got more.”

Jacob turned right back around and walked out.

Zilla shook his head, a smile tugging despite himself. “I ain’t covering for you when Auntie asks.”

“Who’s askin’ you to?” Jey shot back, dragging the blanket up around Monique’s waist like a reflex.

She leaned into his side without even thinking.

And that?

That did it.

Zilla caught the shift.

The unspoken thing in the air that had nothing to do with weed.

He backed toward the door, still shaking his head, but now with a smirk.

“I’ll tell the family y’all… detoxin’.”

“You do that,” Jey called after him, eyes closing as he settled deeper into the pillows.

Monique turned toward him with a sleepy grin, nudging his side with her knee. “So we just gon’ stay in here all day, huh?”

“Hell yeah,” Jey muttered, arm sliding under her neck to pull her closer. “Ain’t nobody takin’ this peace from me today.”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

She curled into him and lit the next blunt.

And for a little while longer, the world could wait.

Chapter Fifty-Four – Man, Fuck Twelve

The restaurant was candlelit and buzzing with laughter, plates of grilled snapper, ribs, and coconut rice passed around the long outdoor table. Children ran up and down the patio, and the adults were leaned back in full-bellied ease…

Except for the two who were missing.

Again.

“Where the hell are they?” Zilla muttered, tapping his fork against his plate.

Jacob sipped his drink with a grunt. “They was high as hell this morning. Room looked like a dispensary picnic.”

Justice choked on her wine. “You serious?”

Zilla nodded. “Had snacks in the bed. Monique talkin’ ‘bout you want some, like she ain’t just body slammed this man three nights ago.”

Katara was already giggling, bouncing baby Tehoni on her lap. “They must’ve made up…”

Tiffany raised a brow, glancing around. “Wait, so neither of them showed up today at all?”

“Not a peep,” Zilla confirmed.

“Alright, I’m going,” Tiffany said, pushing her chair back and tossing her napkin on her plate. “Luis, come with me.”

Luis blinked, mid-bite of grilled shrimp. “Why do I gotta go?”

“You’re the firefighter. Maybe there’s smoke. Come on.”

Luis groaned but stood up, nodding at Jacob. “If I don’t come back, tell your cousin I died tryin’ to babysit his love life.”

The couple made their way through the resort, Tiffany’s heels clicking as she huffed. “I swear if they knocked each other out with weed and unresolved trauma…”

Luis chuckled. “They sound like half my firehouse.”

When they reached the suite, Tiffany knocked hard.

No answer.

“Okay, we’re doing this,” she muttered, using the backup card.

She swung the door open—

—and froze.

Luis peeked over her shoulder.

Then blinked. “The fuck?”

Monique and Jey were sprawled on the floor this time, lying side by side on a pile of throw pillows and tangled blankets. A haze of smoke hung heavy in the air again. Music thumped low from a speaker. Half-eaten fruit, open gummy bags, and a tray of joints were scattered like they’d hosted a whole damn Snoop Dogg concert.

Monique lifted both hands in the air slowly as if surrendering to a SWAT team.

Blunt between her lips.

Eyes glassy.

And she said, perfectly clear:

“Man, fuck twelve.”

Tiffany’s jaw dropped. “Girl. What?!”

Luis lifted both eyebrows and pointed at himself. “I’m a firefighter, Ma.”

Monique squinted. “Wait… f’real?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. My bad.” She giggled and passed the blunt across Jey’s chest.

He took it like a soldier and exhaled slow. “We good, Tiff.”

“You are not good,” she hissed, stepping in and grabbing a water bottle off the floor. “You look like you ain’t drank a damn drop all day, and this room smells like the inside of a Wu-Tang tour bus.”

Jey coughed, eyes half-lidded. “That’s ‘cause we finally chillin’.”

Monique clapped lazily. “Chillin’!”

Luis turned and backed out the door. “I’m not qualified for this.”

Tiffany pointed at Jey. “You better get your ass up, shower, and show your face at least once before your mama starts praying out loud.”

“Not Mama,” Jey groaned, flopping back.

“She gonna think y’all sacrificed a chicken,” Tiffany warned.

Jey waved her off.

Monique leaned into his side and whispered through a smile, “You think she saw the gummies in the fruit bowl?”

Tiffany heard her.

And slammed the door behind her on the way out.

Outside, Luis was already cracking up.

“She said fuck twelve, babe. I ain’t never recoverin’ from that.”

“She better recover from this high before Auntie finds her,” Tiffany muttered.

And inside, on that smoke-sweet floor, Jey and Monique were still tangled up, high as the sky.

And finally — finally — not fighting the peace.

Chapter Fifty-Five – Light Work

Monique wobbled to her feet, one sock on, one sock MIA, laughing so hard she was crying again.

Not from pain this time.

From the sheer insanity of it all.

“Aight, aight,” she wheezed, taking another long pull from the blunt before immediately coughing, damn near bending at the waist. “W-We got this shit, Jey, swear—”

She was fanning the smoke like that would make it disappear.

“We gone act mad square,” she promised with one hand on her hip, the other waving the smoke like a preacher dismissing demons. “Ain’t nobody gon’ know a thing. Especially not yo’ mama. We golden, baby.”

The moment the word mama left her lips, the humor cracked just a little.

Because the truth was?

Mrs. Fatu hadn’t laid eyes on both of them—together—in sixteen years.

Not since Jimmy’s funeral.

Not since Monique cried on her shoulder in a black dress while Jey stood yards away, fists clenched, heart broken open and left bleeding.

Mrs. Fatu had come to Miami Beach to visit her sons and nephews—and her niece Tiffany. She thought it would be a reunion. A happy vacation. Catch up with her grown boys.

What she didn’t expect?

That the girl her late son had loved—and the boy who’d loved her longer—would be found laid up together high as hell in a smoke-fogged suite.

“Okay okay,” Monique muttered, snapping herself out of it. She was already tugging on a short-sleeved black romper over her sports bra and sliding on gold hoops. “We play it cool. Ain’t no reason to panic.”

“Yet,” Jey added from the bed, not moving.

“Get your big ass up,” she said, tossing him the blunt and then a pair of shades. “Put these on. Red-eye lookin’ like we been cryin’ over The Notebook in here.”

Jey finally rolled off the bed, groaning. “Damn, you bossy when you high.”

“I’m bossy always, don’t play wit me.”

He chuckled, pulling on joggers and a clean tee. She handed him cologne. Spritzed it on herself too. They were both moving like this was a heist, like the scent of weed could be erased if they were fast enough.

And then—

“Here,” she said, wedging her oversized black sunglasses on her face and then leaning in to place the blunt between hislips. “Hit that one last time.”

He did.

Exhaled.

Coughed like hell.

She gave him a once-over.

“Man this shit bout to be light work,” Monique declared, lips twitching as she admired her chaotic masterpiece. “You look normal to me.”

He looked far from normal. He looked like a six-foot-three problem with muscles and sleepy eyes and a stupid smirk like he had just gotten everything he ever wanted in the dumbest way possible.

But Monique?

She looked like fire.

Even high.

Even haunted.

Even sixteen years late.

And now, arm in arm, fake sober, weed still faint in the fabric of their clothes—

They were about to walk into dinner with Mrs. Fatu like they weren’t both carrying decades of secrets and smoke.

Light work.

Right?

Chapter Fifty-Six – Smoke and Mirrors

The dining room at the resort’s private suite was buzzing with Fatu noise—laughter, teasing, kids hollering in the background, silverware clinking, the smell of buttered garlic shrimp and honey-glazed chicken thick in the air.

Everyone was seated by the time the last two strolled in.

Quietly.

Too quietly.

Tiffany clocked them first.

Her wine glass paused mid-air as her eyes narrowed like she was reading a soap opera she didn’t remember subscribing to.

Luis was next.

He sat back slow in his seat and blinked like he was still processing the “fuck twelve” comment from earlier. His hand just slid over his wife’s, grip firm, like don’t laugh, baby. Don’t make it obvious.

Zilla?

Zilla outright snorted. Loud. Covered it with a fake cough.

Jacob just cut his eyes at them from the head of the table, one thick brow raising slow and judgmental as hell.

And still—

Jey and Monique said nothing.

They strolled in like celebrities who owed nobody shit. Like they hadn’t gone missing since yesterday. Like they didn’t smell faintly of smoke and sex and terrible decisions masked with designer cologne.

Monique’s oversized sunglasses covered half her face. Her lips were set in a neutral line, but the rest of her?

Posture proud.

Strut steady.

She slid into the empty seat to the left of Jey’s mama without blinking.

Jey took the one beside her like that’s where he’d always been.

Arms folded.

Shoulders touching.

Silent.

Unified.

Sunglasses twins.

Mrs. Fatu blinked at them both once.

Then again.

And finally, she set her fork down slow, looked from her son to the woman beside him, and said:

“Well I’ll be damned.”

Monique nodded politely. “Evenin’, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ‘ma’am’ me,” Mrs. Fatu said, not unkind, but with the voice of a woman who had survived too many sons and too much grief to be fooled by well-placed manners. “Last time I saw you two, one of y’all was cryin’ and the other was tryin’ not to kill somebody.”

Monique smiled without showing teeth. “We older now.”

“Older, huh?” Mrs. Fatu leaned back in her seat, looking between them like she was trying to decide which one was more full of shit. “Y’all look high.”

Luis coughed.

Tiffany covered her mouth.

Jey adjusted his shades and muttered, “Allergies.”

“Uh huh.”

Zilla was biting his cheek not to laugh.

Jacob didn’t even try. “Y’all look like y’all been through a damn war zone.”

“We were at the spa,” Monique offered with a shrug. “Aromatherapy.”

“Is weed an aroma now?” Tiffany asked, sipping her mimosa.

Monique didn’t answer.

Neither did Jey.

Because truth was? The whole room knew.

But no one was about to ruin the fact that—for the first time in sixteen years—Monique and Jey had shown up. Together.

Even if they were both high as hell, lips kiss-swollen, hearts stumbling.

Sitting there quiet.

Still.

Side by side like it had never stopped.

Like they hadn’t broken each other, or been broken by what they lost.

Mrs. Fatu sighed, leaned back, and reached for her drink. “Long as y’all behave at this table, I’ll pretend I don’t see the dumb grins and bloodshot eyes. But don’t push me.”

Monique and Jey nodded in unison, sunglasses still on.

Arms still folded.

And the dinner carried on.

Smoke and all.

Chapter Fifty-Seven – Laid to Rest

For about forty-five minutes, they were decent.

Convincing, even.

They nodded along to conversation. Passed dishes. Monique complimented the chicken. Jey clinked a glass to someone’s toast. They even chuckled at something Zilla said—though nobody was entirely sure they understood what he said.

The sunglasses stayed on.

The body language stayed synced.

Like a pair of professionals who’d trained for this very moment.

But the truth was?

They were both hanging on by a thread.

Because the weed they’d smoked—Monique’s “tester” and then that “good shit”—hadn’t really hit them all the way yet.

But when it did?

It hit like a goddamn freight train.

One minute, Jey was chewing slowly, arms folded on the table like a tank guarding a secret.

Next minute?

His fork clattered to his plate.

His head dropped.

Right onto Monique’s chest.

Smooshed.

Dead weight.

Face-first in her breasts like they were a pillow from God himself.

A beat passed.

And then—

Monique’s head lolled.

She blinked once. Twice.

Tried to straighten up.

Failed.

She bowed forward slowly like a puppet whose strings had been snipped, her forehead resting gently on the top of Jey’s head like she’d just bowed in prayer.

To what, no one could say.

The table went silent.

Utter silence.

Luis paused mid-sentence. Jacob had a spoon in his mouth and just stopped moving. Tiffany was the first to blink.

“Y’all,” she whispered.

Zilla leaned forward squinting. “...Ain’t no way.”

Luis coughed once, deep from the chest. “Are they—?”

“Asleep,” Jacob muttered, setting down his fork. “These fools fell asleep.”

“At the table,” Tiffany hissed, eyes wide, as she stared at her cousin’s face smooshed into cleavage like that was just a normal Tuesday. “Oh my god—”

Mrs. Fatu?

Did not move.

Did not speak.

Just sipped her wine. Closed her eyes for five full seconds like she was asking the Lord for strength.

And then calmly opened them.

“Somebody,” she said, voice even, so dangerously even, “wake these two stoned lovebirds up and put ‘em in bed before I make ‘em share a damn pillow in the lobby.”

Luis reached over gently. “Jey—my guy—hey.”

Nothing.

Zilla was shaking with silent laughter. “You want me to get some ice?”

“I want you to shut up,” Tiffany snapped, smacking his arm.

Jacob stood with a sigh, walked over, and nudged Monique’s shoulder. “Hey. Wake up.”

She blinked, dazed.

Lifted her head a half inch.

Squinted around the table.

“...Shit,” she muttered.

Then looked down at Jey, still face-deep in her chest.

“...Double shit.”

The table exploded.

Laughter, gasps, Zilla clapping his hand on the table like he was at a comedy show.

Mrs. Fatu just stood slowly. “I’m going to my room. If I come back and either one of y’all are still at this table, I’m throwing you both in the ocean.”

Monique groaned, trying to shake Jey awake.

He groaned back, nuzzled deeper into her cleavage.

Luis turned away, hand over his face. “I can’t.”

Tiffany wheezed. “Y’all ain’t slick. Not even a little bit.”

And Monique, trying to stand with all the grace of a woman too high to exist, sighed.

“Don’t judge us.”

Zilla grinned. “Too late.”

Jacob just shook his head and offered her an arm. “Come on. You can nap somewhere less dramatic.”

Jey, half-asleep and still clinging, mumbled, “She soft though.”

Everyone groaned.

And just like that, the disaster duo was shuffled off from the table—laughing, stumbling, totally unconvincing, and absolutely, undeniably a thing again.

Even if they weren’t saying it out loud.

Yet.

Chapter Fifty-Eight – The Haul

“Man, I swear to God,” Zilla muttered, sweat slicking his forehead as he struggled up the hallway, half-staggering with Jey’s long-ass body draped over his back. “This big bastard ain’t never been light, and now he deadweight? Naw. This is payback. This is cosmic payback for every time he clowned me in middle school.”

Behind him, Jacob trudged forward with Monique in his arms, her sunglasses still on, her head lolling back like she was starring in a low-budget telenovela.

“She’s talkin’ in her sleep,” Jacob muttered, squinting at her. “Swear to God I just heard her say ‘extra cheese.’”

Zilla huffed, adjusting his grip with a grunt. “That tracks. She did inhale like half the mac and cheese before she passed out.”

“I’m never getting the smell of her damn perfume out my shirt,” Jacob muttered, shaking his head as he shifted her in his arms and elbowed the hotel suite door open. “I swear, this vacation cursed.”

“You picked the spot,” Zilla reminded him, kicking the door shut behind them.

“I also picked the AirTags for the babies,” Jacob shot back. “So shut the hell up.”

“Touché.”

With matching exhausted groans, the two cousins dropped their burdens onto the king-sized bed—Jey face-down with a muffled “oomph,” and Monique flopping back beside him like a ragdoll, one arm smacking him square in the face.

Zilla collapsed into the armchair, chest heaving, sweat beading on his temples. “If I throw my back out for your messy-ass love story, I want a gift card. I want a basket, with, like… lotions. Snacks. A handwritten apology.”

Jacob ran a hand over his beard, eyeing the pair passed out cold on the bed. “I want a nap and a therapist.”

Jey snored.

Monique sighed in her sleep and rolled toward him, instinctive even now.

Zilla grunted. “See? That’s that soul tie shit.”

Jacob was already headed for the door. “We out.”

Zilla followed, still grumbling.

And the hotel suite fell into silence.

Jey and Monique, still in their clothes, both sprawled across the bed like the chaos had drained every bit of energy from their bones. The weed, the laughter, the family dinner—all of it had hit like a freight train.

They didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t speak.

Not until hours later, when the moon was high in the sky, and the room glowed with dim silver light.

Jey groaned, arm twitching as he blinked awake.

His body ached.

His mouth was dry.

His soul?

Still floating somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico.

He blinked up at the ceiling, squinting like it had betrayed him. “Damn…”

The high was gone.

And he missed it.

“Shit was good,” he muttered, voice thick with sleep and scratchy from hours of quiet.

Beside him, Monique didn’t stir.

Jey turned his head to look at her, her braids scattered over the pillow, lips parted in soft sleep. She looked peaceful. A little drooly.

Still beautiful.

He reached over, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek.

The moment made him ache in a different way. One he couldn’t numb with smoke.

“Damn, Mo…”

He hadn’t meant to fall for her again.

But here he was—stuck, lit, and lost for her.

And wide awake with nothing but time to think about what came next.

Chapter Fifty-Nine – Smoke Signals

The whole suite was silent.

Except for the occasional snore slipping from Monique’s lips and the soft hum of the AC, the kind of deep, velvet silence that came after a storm.

Jey moved slowly, barefoot on the tile floor, brushing a hand over his face. His shoulders were sore. His back popped when he stood, and his head was still clouded, not quite hungover but definitely not clear.

He looked down at her one more time.

She was sprawled on her stomach, cheek pressed into the pillow, lips parted. Her bra strap had slid down one shoulder, her braids scattered like a crown around her head. There was nothing neat or intentional about it—she just looked... real.

And it fucked with him.

He turned away, careful as he stepped around their discarded bags, until he spotted the little tin she’d brought out earlier. He cracked it open and whistled low under his breath.

“Girl wasn’t lying.”

Fat, tightly rolled blunts sat like precious gems, lined up with care. He pulled one free, sniffed it, and grinned.

“Got that good-good, huh?” he muttered.

Jey plucked a lighter from the dresser, nudged the sliding door open, and stepped out onto the balcony. The Miami night hit him like a balm—warm, thick with sea breeze, the distant sound of waves crashing just beyond the high rise.

He shut the door behind him and dropped onto a lounge chair.

Lit the blunt.

Took a long, slow pull.

The exhale came with a low groan and the weight of sixteen years dragging behind it.

“Damn.”

Smoke curled out of his lips, danced toward the stars.

Everything in his chest was a mess.

She’d been right earlier, when she screamed that he made her feel like she was cheating on a ghost. He hadn’t said shit at the time, but that line? That hit. Because he knew. He knew how much Jimmy still lived in both of them—in their memories, their silence, their fucked up push-pull that never had a name.

And he was tired.

Tired of feeling like he had to earn her.

Like he wasn’t allowed to be angry that she kept choosing guilt over him.

Another slow drag.

Another bitter sigh.

“You still runnin’ from me,” he murmured to the dark. “Still runnin’ from this.”

But tonight?

She hadn’t run.

She laughed with him. Got high with him. Let herself unravel beside him, let her guard down long enough to remind him of who she used to be before the grief sunk its claws in.

That Monique was still in there.

And he still loved her.

He leaned his head back, eyes half-lidded as the weed hit slow and heavy. Everything settled in his bones. All the anger. All the old love. All the shit he never got to say because she always slipped through his fingers right when he was about to say it.

Jey stared at the sky.

And whispered it now.

“I wanted you back then too, you know.”

The waves didn’t answer.

But the blunt burned, and the truth bled out with every inhale.

Chapter Sixty – Blowback

The sky was a dreamy blur when Monique cracked open the sliding glass door.

The scent hit her first—ocean wind and that familiar, earthy smoke curling through the air like a promise. Her eyes were half-lidded, blunt already perched between her lips, the cherry glowing a low, soft red in the dark.

She stepped out barefoot, lazy grin on her mouth. Saw him.

Jey.

Sprawled back on the lounger, arms heavy, legs spread like he belonged to the damn night. He had one of her blunts lit, the smoke sliding out of his lips like he was exhaling something more than just weed—like he was bleeding.

She didn’t ask. Didn’t announce herself.

Just padded over and dropped right into his lap.

His whole body jostled beneath her, startled—but she didn’t give him a chance to speak.

She plucked his blunt from his fingers, took a deep pull from it, mixing his with hers until her chest burned. Then, slow and deliberate, she leaned in, her lips just brushing his. She exhaled into his mouth, her smoke meeting his as their breath tangled—thick, hot, dizzying.

He parted his lips instinctively, and she kissed him.

Deep.

Messy.

Stoned.

Tongues tangled as her hips started to move without thinking, slow, steady rolls right over his lap. The pressure made her groan into his mouth, the taste of him and weed and that same damn longing he always carried sparking a fire low in her gut.

His hands came up, gripping her hips like instinct—tight, possessive, like he forgot how to do anything else when she was on him like this.

She pulled back just enough to breathe, her forehead against his.

“Been waiting to do that since you stepped on that balcony lookin’ like regret,” she murmured, breath warm against his lips.

Jey chuckled low and hoarse. “You high as hell.”

“So are you,” she shot back, eyes gleaming in the dark, her smirk slow and wicked. “Which means I got plausible deniability.”

“You rockin’ like that again,” he rasped, tightening his grip. “You tryna start somethin’?”

She ground down harder, biting her lip.

“Maybe I’m tryna finish it.”

The wind picked up, the waves crashing louder below. But none of it could drown out the sound of their hearts kicking into overdrive, the soft groans, the heat pooling between them as they sank into each other—stoned, tangled, and far too far gone to pretend there was anything casual about this.

Not anymore.

Chapter Sixty-One – Strike a Match

The smoke hung thick between them.

Balcony lights low. Ocean breeze rolling in gentle, cooling the sweat off their skin, but not the heat simmering between them. Not the pulse low in her belly. Not the look she cut him from beneath her lashes as she took another long drag off her blunt and leaned back just enough to straddle him better.

Monique's lips parted on the exhale, a slow swirl of smoke curling between them as she held his gaze—bold, lazy, dangerous.

"Don't be a Boy Scout," she murmured, voice rough around the edges from smoke and need. Her fingers traced down his bare chest, nails catching against the tight muscle there. "Slide in then, Joshua."

Jey’s jaw flexed.

She smirked.

“Unless you afraid. Forgot how to—”

He didn’t let her finish.

He gripped her hips so hard she gasped, lifting her just enough to shift her against him. Her laugh caught in her throat as his blunt dropped from his fingers to the ashtray beside them, forgotten.

"You always run that mouth reckless when you're high, huh?" he rasped.

Monique took another hit—eyes locked on his, throat working slow as she pulled, then leaned down to let the smoke trail between his lips.

His chest rose hard.

She pressed her forehead to his, voice low and baiting.

"Call it high confidence. Now are you gon’ prove a point, or just sit there like a square?"

Jey cursed under his breath. A raw, wicked sound.

His hands shifted under her thighs, and in one fluid movement, he stood—her legs locking around his waist with a startled yelp—and turned to stride back into the suite. She clung to his neck, laughing now, still hitting the blunt, nearly dropping it as he shouldered the door open with a grunt.

“Keep playin’ with me, Mo,” he growled as he crossed the room, “and I swear, high or not, I’ma make you remember.”

“Then do it.”

She taunted him, whisper-sharp against his ear as he tossed her onto the bed. The bounce of her landing made her giggle—until he climbed over her, slid her shorts down slow, and pressed his forehead to hers again.

“I ain’t forget a damn thing,” he murmured, lining up with her heat, the thick head of him just teasing against her slick entrance.

She whimpered.

“You gon’ keep talkin’ shit?” he asked, voice low, rough, burning.

Monique stared up at him, pupils blown, lips parted, and whispered—

"Only if you can't shut me up."

And just like that—

He did.

With everything she asked for.

Everything he’d been holding back.

No more pretending.

No more pause.

Only fire.

Chapter Sixty-Two

She choked on a sound caught at the back of her throat—half-laugh, half-moan—as he drove into her slow, deep, unforgiving.

Jey groaned above her, his forehead damp, curls hanging low near his eyes, his breath ragged with restraint. He held her thighs open in his hands, watching the way her body welcomed him again and again, how she pulsed and fluttered around him.

"Mo…" he gritted, voice torn, fighting to keep control.

But she was gone.

Blissed out, wild-eyed, twisted in the sheets beneath him—hips rising to meet every stroke like her body couldn’t stand to lose him for even a second.

And then she looked up at him, teeth digging into her bottom lip, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as her high clung to her in waves.

“It feels so good high,” she whispered, voice husky and light, almost like laughter.

His rhythm faltered.

She dragged her nails down his arms, whimpered as he sank in again—slower, deeper this time—and her head dropped back, braid ends tickling her collarbones as her back arched like a drawn bow.

“You stretch it so nicely, baby boy…”

Jey growled—loud, low, straight from his chest.

"Say that shit again," he warned, hands tightening on her thighs, holding her wide open like a prize he’d bled for.

Monique’s grin widened, lazy and full of heat.

"You heard me, twin."

He slammed into her and stole the air right out of her lungs.

She clawed at his back, legs locking around him, eyes rolling half-closed as her mouth opened in a broken sob of pleasure.

He watched her fall apart, studied every stutter in her breath, every shiver in her frame—memorizing it like gospel.

This wasn’t just a high.

This was a claiming.

"Look at me,” he rasped, one hand sliding to the center of her chest, palm spread flat against her thudding heart. “Don’t hide now.”

“I c-can’t,” she gasped.

“You gon’ have to,” he whispered against her lips. “Because I ain’t lettin’ you run from this again.”

And then he kissed her—slow and heavy, all tongue and heat and emotion, like he was feeding her everything he’d been starved of for sixteen goddamn years.

He made love to her like it was war, like she was the battlefield and the home he’d never gotten to keep. Every stroke was a truth. Every groan was a confession. Every time she whimpered his name—soft, low, breaking—he buried his face against her throat and took it like gospel.

"J-Jey," she sobbed, her voice cracking as her walls fluttered around him again.

"Yeah, baby," he murmured into her skin. "That’s it. That’s all me, Mo. Say it."

She bit his shoulder, her whole body trembling.

“That’s all you,” she whispered.

Her breath caught on a sob that turned into laughter, then dissolved into a sharp moan as he gave her everything—hips grinding deeper, hands cradling her jaw to keep her eyes locked on his.

“I should’ve had you back then,” he whispered, and his voice cracked. “I should’ve never let you go.”

She blinked up at him through the high, through the pleasure, through the mess of memory and fire between them—and she didn’t say anything.

Because she knew.

And when the end came, they rode it together—her nails digging into his arms, his forehead pressed to hers, both of them shaking, wrung out, undone.

After, he didn’t pull away.

He didn’t roll off or let go.

Jey stayed there, cradled between her thighs, her body still twitching from aftershocks, his arms wrapped around her like he could hold back time itself.

And for once—after years of silence and guilt and everything unsaid—Monique let herself hold him back.

No words.

Just sweat, breath, skin, and a slow-burning kind of peace.

The kind that felt dangerously close to love.

Chapter Sixty-Three

The sun leaked in through the gaps in the blackout curtains, casting soft stripes of gold across the hotel suite. The room was quiet, still wrapped in the heavy afterglow of the chaos that had unfolded the night before.

Monique stirred beneath the sheets with a groan. Her brows furrowed as she blinked up at the ceiling, every inch of her body aching. Her thighs burned, her head throbbed, and her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and left to dry out in the desert.

She didn’t remember falling asleep.

Hell, she didn’t remember half the night.

All she knew was that her inner thighs were sore and sticky, the muscles in her back tight, and the sound of her own heartbeat was too damn loud.

“Mmph…”

Dragging herself up on one elbow, she winced and ran a hand over her face. Her box braids were a mess, scattered across the pillow and stuck in wild angles from all the tossing and turning—or whatever had her twisted up like that.

A quick glance around the suite showed it empty.

No Jey.

No sounds.

No light chatter from the TV, no leftover music from the Bluetooth speaker they'd half-danced to, half-screwed to.

Just silence.

Dragging her sore body to the edge of the bed, she planted her feet on the floor and hissed at the sting between her thighs. “Goddamn…”

She stood slowly, legs trembling like she’d run a damn marathon. One eye squinted open, she stumbled across the suite, flung the mini fridge open, and grabbed a cold blue Gatorade. She cracked it open and chugged half of it in seconds, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Still parched.

Still foggy.

Still high?

Maybe a little.

But more than anything, she was sore. Like sex-and-weed-induced-warzone sore.

She shuffled toward the bathroom, flicked on the light, and sighed when she saw the big garden tub. No way she was showering. She needed to float.

Setting the Gatorade down, she twisted the knobs on the tub, hot water pouring in. Bubbles followed next, then a soft floral bath oil she found in her own duffle bag. A stick of incense sat tucked in her toiletry pouch—lavender and sandalwood. She lit it with a match and placed it on the counter, letting the smoke curl upward in lazy swirls.

She sank into the hot water with a grateful groan, her head resting back against the cool tile wall behind her. The warmth eased some of the tension in her thighs, and she closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.

Her memory was coming back in flashes—blunt between her fingers, his mouth on hers, laughing too loud, her voice slurred with sweet nonsense.

Then him.

God, him.

The way he touched her, kissed her, held her like she was something precious. Like she was his and always had been. She remembered the sound of her own voice—ragged, undone—telling him he stretched it so nice.

She winced, cringing at herself.

“Shit.”

The bathwater rippled around her as she sank lower, submerging until just her nose peeked out, hoping maybe the bubbles would wash the reality away.

But they didn’t.

Because no matter how hazy she felt… the ache in her body reminded her that every moan, every stroke, every whisper from him had been real.

And now?

Now she had to figure out what the hell came next.

Chapter Sixty-Four

Jey stood at the edge of the beach, barefoot in the cool morning sand, salt wind combing through his curls. The rolled blunt in his fingers was almost out, ash curling at the end like a dying wick. He didn’t even realize he’d walked this far until the hotel disappeared behind him and the sound of waves overtook everything else.

The sun had just crept up, all soft amber light and pink-washed sky. It painted the world in the kind of stillness that only came after wreckage.

And that’s what last night felt like—wreckage.

Not the kind that left him hollow, though. No, this one was loud. Full. Hot. Charged. Like something had been ripped open and now couldn’t be put back.

He dragged in another slow pull, the smoke curling in his lungs, stretching out across his chest before he let it go. His jaw flexed, the lines between his brows deepening as his eyes narrowed out at the horizon.

"Shit," he muttered to himself.

He hadn’t meant to leave her in bed. But after everything—the high, the sex, the laughing that turned to kissing that turned to them folded into each other like something ancient and necessary—he’d woken before the sun and needed… air.

Space.

Clarity.

His heart had been beating too loud in his chest, too close to his damn throat. And even as she slept curled beside him, arm slung over his ribs, mouth parted soft, skin smelling like incense and sweat and something sweet that stuck in his lungs—he couldn’t stay still.

He hadn’t expected it to be like that.

Raw.

Tender.

Desperate.

He’d had Monique before. Knew her mouth, knew her attitude, knew the way she could cut deep with a look. But this? This version of her? All tangled up in him with no armor, no sharp tongue to hide behind?

That version scared the hell out of him.

Not because she was different—but because she wasn’t.

Because it was the same girl. The same one from back then. And he still wanted her with the same ache in his bones that had haunted him since he was seventeen.

She called him selfish, last time she’d stormed out. Called herself broken. Like being loved by him was something shameful. Like feeling something for him was a betrayal to a ghost.

And maybe it was.

Maybe he was sick, wanting the girl his twin brother once loved.

But he wasn’t sorry.

Not anymore.

He ran a hand down his face, blunt dangling from the corner of his mouth, and stared out at the tide. His voice came low, gravelly, barely more than breath as he whispered to the empty beach, “I can’t keep lovin’ her in silence.”

His thumb brushed the ring on his pinky—the same one Jimmy used to wear. He hadn’t taken it off in years. But it wasn’t guilt anymore. It was a promise. And Monique was part of that promise, whether she wanted to be or not.

A seagull screeched overhead, and he flicked the roach into the sand, grinding it beneath his heel. His head tipped back, and he let the sea breeze cool the heat behind his eyes.

Maybe she’d wake up and cuss him out again. Maybe she’d pretend nothing happened. Or maybe—just maybe—she’d stop running.

He turned back toward the hotel, feet sinking in the wet sand.

"Time to see if she’s still in that damn bathtub," he muttered with a tired smirk.

But beneath it, he was aching.

Because he knew it now with every damn breath in his body.

He didn’t just want Monique.

He loved her.

And this time… he wasn’t walking away.

Chapter Sixty-Five

Monique was dead to the world.

She lay sideways in the tub, water lukewarm now, one leg flopped over the side, head tilted back against the tile like she’d passed out mid-prayer. Mouth open. Hair a wild, half-frizzy halo around her head. Her arm curled protectively around the tiny waterproof speaker tucked against her chest like it was a teddy bear.

The Isley Brothers were crooning low from the speaker, the bassline soft and slow, wrapping around the steam in the air like honey.

🎶 “Between the sheets…” 🎶

The blunt had long since burned out in the ashtray on the counter. The incense stick had turned to ash too, smoke gone, leaving just the faint scent of sandalwood clinging to the tile.

She snored once. Soft, a little unflattering.

Then curled tighter around the speaker, mumbling something incoherent as Ronald Isley’s voice floated through the quiet.

Jey stepped into the suite just in time to hear that snore. He paused in the doorway to the bathroom, bare-chested, sweats slung low on his hips, eyes bloodshot and shoulders loose from the walk. The moment he spotted her curled up like a damn gremlin in the tub, a slow grin tugged at his mouth.

"You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me."

He leaned on the frame, arms folded as he watched her twitch slightly and let out another grumbly snore-sniffle combo.

"Yo…" he called, voice low but teasing. "Monique."

Nothing.

He stepped in, careful not to startle her. “Mo, you tryna drown yourself behind some damn love songs? Or is this the weed coma deluxe?”

Still nothing.

He crouched beside the tub and poked at her foot gently. "You alive in there?"

Monique stirred, barely.

Then snorted, adjusted the speaker, and let out a garbled, “...the fuckin’… Earth, Wind & Fire of my soul…”

Jey blinked. “What?”

She cracked one eye open, squinting like the light was offensive. Then groaned, turning her face away and slapping a wet hand against his shoulder weakly. “Turn down the sun, bitch…”

He barked out a laugh.

That pulled her more awake. Her face scrunched as she sat up slowly, groaning as the soreness set in, blinking hard like her brain was buffering in real time. The speaker slipped down and hit the side of the tub with a soft clunk.

"Shit," she hissed, reaching for it as the song changed to Voyage to Atlantis. She froze. Looked down at her wet fingers. Then looked at him.

He was still crouched there, watching her with that crooked smile. That knowing smile. And suddenly, every bit of the previous day started creeping back in.

Her thighs still ached.

Her chest still bore faint red marks from his stubble.

And her mouth…

She touched her lips like she wasn’t sure they still belonged to her.

“You left,” she murmured, voice raspy, not quite accusing, but not neutral either.

“I ain’t leave,” Jey said softly. “I needed air. And you looked like you needed sleep.”

She blinked at him. Didn’t respond right away.

The water shifted as she sat all the way up, pressing her back to the tub, hair damp now, slicked to her temples. Jey reached for a towel and handed it to her, not moving as she wrapped it around her chest.

“Did we…” she started, then winced. “Like… everything I remember happened, right? That ain’t the weed lyin’ to me?”

Jey stood, looking down at her for a beat. “You tell me.”

Her eyes narrowed. Then a slow flush climbed her cheeks, mouth twitching as the memory returned with more detail than she expected.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered, dragging the towel tighter. “I called you baby boy.”

His grin widened.

"You did more than that."

She groaned and pulled the towel over her face. “Please kill me.”

“Mm-mm,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “I’m makin’ breakfast.”

She peered over the towel. “You cookin’? Since when?”

“Since your ass woke up cuddling a speaker like it was my replacement.”

Monique rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile threatening the corners of her mouth.

And Jey—he caught it.

Didn’t say a word.

Just smirked as he walked out of the bathroom, letting the Isley Brothers serenade them both in the aftermath of whatever the hell they were becoming.

Chapter Sixty-Six

The bathroom door eased open with a creak, steam curling out like a lazy spirit.

Monique padded barefoot across the floor, hair towel-dried and coiled into a messy bun on top of her head. She wore nothing but one of Jey’s old black t-shirts—faded and stretched soft with age—and a pair of his sweats she was currently losing a war with.

“Shit,” she muttered, gripping the waistband as it slipped again. “These pants hate me.”

She yanked them up, tugged the drawstring tight—and they still puddled halfway down her ass the second she let go. Huffing, she leaned over the bed and dug around her duffle for her own pair of shorts but came up empty.

"Where the hell my damn clothes go—"

Jey’s voice called from the kitchenette. “Check under the bed.”

She froze. “How you know that?”

He popped his head around the corner, holding a spatula in one hand and raising a brow. “’Cause I flung ’em there last night, you remember that part?”

Monique squinted at him like she couldn’t decide if she was annoyed or amused. Then she rolled her eyes, snorted softly, and gave up the hunt, just dragging the oversized sweats up again as she walked toward the kitchen.

As soon as she stepped into the light, he gave her a look—slow and appreciative, dragging from her bare feet all the way to the way his t-shirt hung off one shoulder like it belonged there.

“What?” she asked, grabbing a banana off the counter to stall the warmth crawling up her neck.

Jey shook his head, lips quirking. “Nothin’. Just—” He leaned against the counter, spatula tapping the side of the pan. “You look like a walking memory.”

That made her pause.

A little grin tugged at her lips, almost shy.

She peeled the banana with more focus than necessary and took a bite before pointing the fruit at him. “Since when you get all muscly and tattooed, huh?”

He blinked. “What?”

She gestured up and down with the banana. “You used to be this skinny, lanky-ass boy in high school. You had that whole soft pretty boy vibe—those big brown eyes, that dumb lil’ lip ring you thought made you edgy…”

“I was edgy,” he mumbled.

“You was soft,” she laughed. “Had all the girls writing your name on their folders like you was Omarion or somebody.”

He smirked. “And you was one of ‘em.”

“Lies!” she pointed dramatically. “I was loyal to Jimmy—”

Jey’s face shifted, not in anger, not in pain exactly, but something real and still.

Monique faltered.

The air bent between them, subtle but tight.

Then Jey looked away, flipped the pancakes in the pan, and spoke quiet. “I ain't say you wasn’t.”

She lowered the banana.

“…I didn’t mean it like that,” she murmured, stepping closer.

“I know.”

“I just—” She sighed, mouth twisting, eyes dropping. “I used to avoid you for real. You were gettin' taller, growin' into your face... all them damn tattoos startin’ to show up—and I didn’t wanna see Jimmy in you.”

Jey nodded slowly.

“But now?” she added, voice a little husky.

He looked at her again, eyes darker now. Waiting.

“You don’t look like him anymore,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “You look like… you.”

Jey’s jaw clenched.

Then relaxed.

He turned off the stove, pushed the pan aside, and took a slow step toward her.

“I been waitin’,” he murmured, voice low and deep, “damn near sixteen years to hear that from you.”

Monique didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just stared up at him, chest rising and falling beneath the borrowed shirt.

And when he reached for her face, she let him—closed her eyes as his thumb traced her cheek, his other hand settling against her waist, dragging the too-big sweats back up as they started to fall again.

“You still hungry?” he asked, breath brushing her lips.

She tilted her head, grinned.

“For food or for you?”

Jey groaned softly, head dropping to her shoulder as she laughed.

#jey uso x black oc #romance #x black oc #mature fic #jey uso fanfiction

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silverofthunder · 2 years ago

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☆ i'll wait for you ☆

Papa Emeritus IV x GN reader || AO3

summary: It was supposed to be only six months intership kind of thing. The original plan had been: go there, do you job and then leave. You weren't ready for any unwanted feelings to blossom. But then you met Copia and something changed. The walls around you started to crack little by little.

content: 3.2k words, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, romance, friends to lovers (kinda), bad attempt at humor, references to past abusive relationship (just mentioned that past has been difficult, mostly left open to interpretation)

I wasn't supposed to write for this fandom but my brain decided otherwise. 🙈 It's been about three years since I've last written anything so this isn't my best work, obviously. Nonetheless, I had missed writing so much and I really enjoyed writing this so I guess that's all that counts. ♡

”You should go!” your friend said, sounding way too excited. ”You said you wanted a change of scenery so this is your chance!”

You stared at the letter in your hand and then looked up at your friend. They nodded, smiling.

You shook your head, sighing. ”Okay, I guess I’ll do it then.”

And that’s how you found yourself standing in front of the Sister Imperator at the Ministry.

”Is everything clear now?”

”Yes, Sister,” you answered, taking a pile of books and papers from the table. ”One question --”

you were interrupted by the door opening and someone rushing in.

”You’re late,” Sister Imperator remarked, clearly a bit irritated. The man who had come in drew in a long breath, looking a bit apologetic and came to stand beside you.

”Copia, here is your assistant. I have given them short briefing, the rest is yours to decide.”

Your eyes met his mismatched ones and you smiled politely – or at least tried to smile. Copia returned the smile, then taking a slight bow.

”Pleased to meet you.”

The first few weeks were quite hectic as you tried your best to keep up with your assistant chores and stay as far from Sister Imperator as possible. There was something in her that made you feel so uncomfortable.

You were now walking in the garden outside, enjoying the short break you had been granted. It was nice to explore more of the Ministry area, and properly take it all in. You breathed in the fresh air, then slowly releasing it out.

At first you had thought that coming here had been a mistake but now it didn’t seem that bad. Copia had made you feel welcome and it was actually nice to work with him – or for him. He certainly was intriguing, and you couldn’t wait to get to know the man more.

You had also met the ghouls and they were a bit intimidating but also interesting creatures. So human-like but still not human. They hadn’t talked much, only looked at you with curiosity, and you took it that they didn’t mind you being there and working with Copia.

”Would you like to have a dinner with me today?” Copia asked quietly, and you nearly knocked over your ink bottle.

Oh shit, you cursed in your mind. It wasn’t an unusual question, so there was no need to react that way. But still, it had surprised you.

”It’s okay if you--”

”Yes, I would like that very much.”

You were afraid that you might have sounded too eager but Copia didn’t seem to notice anything. The smile was tugging at his lips as nodded slightly before burying himself in his work again. Something inside you jolted but you ignored it as you moved your gaze back to your papers, a small smile still plastered on your lips.

It became a habit, that you two ate dinner together. Soon you even started spending more time together outside of work and you could easily admit that you enjoyed Copia’s company. He was kind, funny and slightly awkward but it only made him more endearing.

You two grew closer day by day, and so grew the feeling somewhere deep within you. At first you you just ignored it, thinking it was just some temporary glitch in your system.

But you knew what it was. And you knew it most likely wouldn’t go away.

Something you weren’t yet ready for had started to blossom.

You couldn’t sleep so you decided to go to the part of the Ministry library that had become your favorite. You sat down on the chair and and switched on the lamp on the table next to it.

For a moment you just sat there and then you unlocked your phone, searching for one secific conversation. You didn’t need to read it again since it all was still clear as a day in your head but you still went through the messages.

It hurt to read them. It always did. Not so much nowadays but the pain was still there, nonetheless. You were pretty sure it would never truly go away, no matter how much time passed.

A few tears fell to your cheeks as you closed the conversation, locking the phone. Sudden rustling startled you and you almost dropped you phone.

”Sorry, tesoro, didn’t mean to scare you,” Copia’s familiar, soothing voice made you relax. You quickly wiped away the tears and turned to look at him.

”Hi,” you said, attempting to smile. ”What are you doing here?”

Copia didn’t answer straight away, he looked at you with concern and you shifted on the chair.

”What’s troubling you, my dear?”

You sighed, looking straight into his eyes. You hadn’t really spoke about your past, especially your painful past, and only a few of your friends and your parents knew what you had gone through. Copia seemed genuinely worried, he pulled another chair closer, sat down and took your hands in his.

”It’s a long story,” you stated. ”And not a pretty story.”

Copia’s brows furrowed as he squeezed your hands.

”We have all night.”

The plan had been very clear: go to the Ministry, do your job and then leave. There wasn’t supposed to be any unwanted feelings involved. Your love life had been a bitch in the past and you had sworn that you had no time for crushes or anything like that.

But it seemed that dear Satan had another plan for you and now you had to deal with an undeniable crush on Copia. The sweetest man you had ever met. Who, despite now knowing about your past, had not run as far as he could or had not called the whole internship thing off. Who still treated you with the same respect as he had done straight from the start.

Basically it seemed like nothing had changed – maybe there hadn’t on his side. But what came to you… Everything had changed.

And it scared the hell out of you.

”Keep your eyes closed,” Copia instructed and you kept your eyes closed, excitement bubbling at the bottom of your stomach. You could hear Copia moving in front of you, mumbling something and letting out some quiet funny noices every once in a while.

”Now it’s all set, open your eyes.”

You did as was told and the sight before you took you by surprise. On the ground there was a blanket with plates, wine glasses and a basket full of food on it. The lights on the trees casted a faint glow upon it and before them opened up a lovely lake view. For a moment you couldn’t do anything but stare at the whole setting.

”It might be too much but I--”

”No, it’s beautiful, I…” you trailed off and took a hold of Copia’s hands, your gaze meeting his. Copia shifted slightly, and you pulled him closer, freeing your other hand and lifting it up to brush you fingers along his cheek.

The look in Copia’s eyes softened as he leaned into your touch.

”I just want to know. Why? Why all of this?” your voice was barely a whisper.

”You really haven’t realized it yet?” Copia sounded almost hurt and you shook you head, a knot forming in your stomach.

Of course you had your suspicions. The way Copia had acted around you, the slight touches, the softness in his gaze, the moments you had caught him staring at you and the faintest of red had started to adorn his cheeks and ears.

You weren’t ready for this, voicing the feelings part. It was too hard.

”Can we just… not talk about it now?” you pleaded, cupping Copia’s face. The look in Copia’s eyes was devastating and it made your heart break a little. But you knew he understood.

”Let’s just enjoy this now,” you suggested, caressing Copia’s cheeks with your thumbs. ”I need more time.”

Copia offered you a sad smile, nodding. You really hadn’t much time since the internship was about to end in two months. But for now, you didn’t want anything to change.

”I really don’t deserve you.”

Sighing Copia wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in a hug. It felt a like comforting blanket but also like you were letting something huge go.

Why were feelings so hard?

”You did what?!” your friend basically screeched at the other end of the line. ”Oh god, you’re such an idiot!”

”Thanks, that really made me feel better,” you remarked while pacing in your room.

”Oh, sorry, but honestly, what’s the problem?”

”You know what’s this all about.”

Your friend let out an angry sigh and you tried not to laugh. They were so dramatic sometimes.

”You can’t let your past define your future. From what you’ve told, it seems like he really likes you and you definitely like him back. He’s a good man, right?”

”Yes, he seems to be. Too good even,” you answered, a small smile tugging at your lips. Your friend let out a little laugh.

”I can hear you smiling.”

”I’m not,” you tried, knowing well your friend wouldn’t buy it.

”Sure you’re not. Honestly, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

That was a good question and you really had no sensible answer.

”He could break my heart?”

You could hear your friend try to keep it together. They drew in a long breath, slowly releasing it.

”That’s the risk you’ve got to take when it comes to love.”

”Yeah...” you said quietly, knowing that your friend was right.

For the past few weeks hadn’t been easy. Copia seemed to avoid you – or at least keep more distance – and your conversations had shortened greatly. He still seemed to be a bit hurt by your rejection, though you didn’t count it as a proper rejection. Now, whenever you two were on the same room, he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself and it made your heart ache. A part of you wanted to just go and comfort him and the other part was holding onto the walls around you that had started to crack.

You had around six weeks left and everything was a mess. The ghouls were sending very intimidating and hard glances at you when you happened to pass them by. They were pretty protective of Copia and now you basically had given them a reason to be on the alert. They hadn’t seemed to mind about you at first and you didn’t see them that often but now a few of them seemed to keep a closer eye on you.

It was just your luck that everything had gone to south. You kicked a stone in the ground while walking on the yard and cursed in your mind.

”What did that stone do to you?”

The question made you jump and you turned around fast, meeting Copia’s slightly amused gaze. Your brain short-circuited and for a moment you just stared at him.

”Nothing”, you answer after a while, now mentally kicking yourself. Copia hummed, stepping closer to you until he was standing right in front of you. Your heart rate sped up a bit and you could feel the warmth on your cheeks.

”Tesoro mio…” Copia started quietly. ”I’m sorry I’ve been a bit distant lately.”

”It’s my fault. I…” you trailed off, shaking your head.

”I never meant to scare you. It was too much and too soon.”

Copia’s eyes were filled with emotion and your heart stung.

”It’s just… My past… I’m afraid I get hurt again.”

Copia seemed to hold back tears and it made you tear up.

”I could never hurt you. Not like that.”

You closed your eyes, tears starting to flow. Hands took a hold of yours but you didn’t dare to open your eyes.

”I’ll wait for you.”

For now, that was all you needed to hear and you took a step forward, wrapping your arms around Copia.

You were going through papers, reading some parts here and there but the text seemed blurred. It was no wonder as you had slept badly for the past few nights as the nightmares had plagued you.

”It’s third time you go through the same pile”, Copia stated, worry evident in his voice. ”You seem tired. Have you not slept at all?”

You checked the papers again and he was right, you had already organized them. No wonder everything had looked so alike. With a loud sigh you dropped your head onto the table.

”The nightmares have started again so no, I haven’t really slept.”

”Again?”

”They come and go. Usually they bother me for a few nights and then it might be several weeks before they come again”, you explained, lifting your head up and meeting Copia’s eyes. The look in them was filled with worry.

”Is it…?” Copia didn’t finish the question, he didn’t need to. You just nodded.

”Can I help somehow?”

”Maybe…” you started, hesitating a bit. ”...if you could stay the next night with me?”

The look in Copia’s eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his lips.

”I can do that, though I’m not sure if that actually helps.”

You shrugged, flashing Copia a slight grin. ”Well, we won’t know if we don’t try it, right?”

Copia laughed.

”I guess the floor is mine, then.”

Your eyes widened as Copia grinned and you grabbed some trash from the table and threw it at him. He pretended to be offended by that.

”You… old man! You’re definitely sleeping on the floor.”

Copia shook his head in amusement before standing up and coming to you. You had no time to react as he pulled you up and lifted you up. You grabbed onto his shoulders as he spun you two around, your laughter echoing in the room.

This was it. This was how you wanted everything to be. Or at least a part of you wanted.

As Copia finally let you down, your eyes met again. The warmth in his eyes made your heart soar, awakening the part you had wanted to keep asleep.

The part that wanted to kiss him so badly.

You stepped away from him, still smiling, and the moment was gone.

Even thought it wasn’t supposed to happen, that night you still ended up sleeping in the same bed. Copia’s arms where wrapped around you, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

There was no nightmares that night, only cozy warmth, peace and safety.

”So are you two now together or what?” your friend sounded confused on the phone.

”No, we’re not together,” you said. ”It’s complicated but everything is well now. We can have fun and just be us like we used to be before… you know.”

”Okay… But you just said that you have been sharing a bed with him? And you’re just friends?”

”Yes and yes.”

”Alright… That’s really confusing,” your friend stated. ”But I’m happy that you seem to be doing better now.”

”Me too.”

There was a short moment of silence before your friend spoke again.

”Have you thought about what’s gonna happen when your internship ends? There’s only like… three weeks left, right?”

”Three weeks, yes,” you confirmed. ”No, I haven’t really thought about it.”

Your friend let out a long sigh.

”You should think about it. And goddammit, make your move already or I will come there and kick your stupid asses!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that threat.

”I was about to make a move some time ago,” you admitted and your friend screeched so loud your ear hurt.

”What?! What do you mean?”

”We had a… moment and we were pretty close and I almost… kissed him. I mean I wanted to kiss him, but didn’t.”

”Dammit, you oaf! Oh god, I’m probably gonna get a heart attack before anything happens between you two.”

”That’s possible,” you laughed. ”Okay, I need to go now, I will call you again at some point.”

”Yeah, go to your man! Bye!”

Shaking your head smiling you said your goodbyes and hung up.

The days went by fast and ending of the internship had now come. You had spent as much time with Copia as possible and it had been amazing. It was hard to explain how you felt with him. Even though you hadn’t been easy to be with, he had stayed. If something would have made people run away from you, it would have been your past.

But not Copia. He had taken your past as a part of you, understanding the weight of it on your shoulders.

Falling in love was supposed to be a beatiful thing but to you it had been one of the greatest fears for several years. And now you had had to face that fear, try to open your heart and break the walls around you.

It wasn’t easy when your heart wanted one thing and the head told the opposite. But maybe, just maybe, you had started to see the beauty of falling in love again.

I’ll wait for you.

That had been a promise you never expected to hear. And it might have changed the course of everything.

As you now stood outside the Ministry, all your luggages beside your feet, waiting for your ride to arrive, you felt sad and like you were doing something you shouldn’t do. You had to admit that you really didn’t want to leave. Even though it hadn’t been easy, you still had enjoyed being there. It had been quite an experience, opening pages in your book you thought would never be opened again.

The car pulled over and the driver came to help you with the luggages.

”Trying to leave without saying goodbye?”

A small smile rose to your lips as you turned around, seeing Copia standing by the Ministry doors hands behind his back. Your heart ached as this was it.

The moment you had dreaded.

You asked the driver to wait for a moment and walked over to Copia, noticing the hint of sadness in his gaze. You two hadn’t still spoken about what you were and you knew that now was the time to make some things clear.

”Copia…” you started, cupping his face gently. He leaned into your touch, the look in his eyes changing hopeful as he set his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. You breathed slowly in, the mild, familiar scent of Copia filling your senses, comforting you.

You lingered in the moment because you didn’t want to let go. And neither did Copia, it seemed, as he just tightened his hold of you and rested his forehead against yours.

”Please…” he whispered.

Your heart made a little jump in your chest as you knew what he wanted. You pulled slightly back so you could look at him in the eyes. And that was the moment when all your doubts seemed to vanish and you let your heart make the decision.

With a fluttering heart you finally leaned in and kissed him. You felt Copia basically melt against you, his arms sliding around you, and it made you smile into the kiss.

A sudden clearing of throat broke your moment and you parted, both smiling in awe. Unfortunately it was time for you to go.

”I’ll come back”, you promised as you started to walk backwards towards the car.

Copia nodded, his face radiating happiness.

”I’ll wait for you.”

#papa emeritus iv x gn reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #jen writes fics

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ansibl-e · 6 months ago

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good morning to the quarter-centennial @batmanisagatewaydrug book bingo!

i was going to make a post about my library books before this, but alas.

i am ringing in the new year in the midst of 4 books, 2 right socks, and one hat.

there are places in the world where rules are less important than kindness (carlo rovelli)

an essay collection by the physicist who wrote 7 brief lessons on physics, which i read and enjoyed in high school (if you get it from the library you probably won't know this, because of the plastic, but it's got a fantastically soft velvety matte finish on the jacket).

i am enjoying this essay collection quite a lot as well, being 206 pages into its 255-page count, and it's introduced me to some new works im quite excited to break into - bruno de finetti's work on probability, lucretius's de rerum natura, and nāgārjuna's mūlamadhyamakakārikā. unfortunately none of the other works he introduced me to appear to be avaliable in english. wish there had been a translator's note so i wouldn't have wasted the reference desk's time, but alas.

as i'm nearly finished with it, this will be considered a 2024 read.

transformer by ezra furman

part of the 33⅓ series, a booklet on an album i have never listened to written by one of my favorite artists. already, it's introduced me to the velvet underground's first album (fantastic) "suffragette city" by david bowie (banger), and inspired me to make listening to ziggy stardust a priority. ezra furman, like john darnielle, is as compelling a prosaist as she is a songwriter, and i highly recommend this book.

i have not yet gotten to the first track on the album (i'm still in "fuck you leave me alone don't read my book") so i'm going to count this as a 2025 read.

the elements of eloquence by mark forsyth

essentially a list of the figures of rhetoric with definitions and examples, but the writer is cracking snarky jokes the entire time. as soneone who read strunk & white for fun, it's fantastic.

i am on page 55 of 235, so as this does not fulfil any specific requirement of the batman book bingo ("how to write good" is not a new interest of mine) i will not be aligning it with either year in specific.

tiger at the gates by jean giraudoux (tr. christopher fry)

i read this play in high school, back when i used to hang out in the 840s during my free periods. tragically, the library made the strange decision to weed this book an many others out several years ago, replacing them with a lot of empty shelves. luckily, i don't live in that library system anymore so this was not a barrier to my reread.

this play has what i consider to be the greatest opening line in theatrical history. it is my favorite play, it holds up fantastically to my memories, and i would travel a great distance to see it performed live. the opening line, which i give you so you will understand and read this play, is:

ANDROMACHE: There's not going to be a Trojan war, Cassandra!

i read act 1 out loud in the car to my mom yesterday, and we'll be covering act 2 tomorrow (it was too dark on the way home). as this is a play in 2 acts, i will consider it a 2024 read.

tl;dr

so i will be beginning my book bingo with transformer, a nonfiction book teaching me something new (i've never listened to any of lou reed's work before, VU or otherwise). and it even has an animal on the cover! ...if you're counting lou reed.

and for my first true read of 2025, once ive finished a few more of these, i will be reading

the garden party by katherine mansfield

a short story collection from 1922 with 2 birds on the cover set in multiple countries i've never visited. and possibly at least one of them is a romance or historical fiction, too.

#batman book bingo 2025 #book bingo 2025 #2025 book bingo #bookblr

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ryetherat · 1 year ago

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so... percy jackson rp?

i've had this idea in my mind for... years at this point, i guess, just swimming around in the back of my mind. and it Hit me again thanks to the show so here we are

i'm not looking for a roleplay partner, which seems to be the "norm" nowadays. my plan: a pjo rp forum site, hosted on jcink or proboards, whatever works. forum roleplaying was a big part of my online experience growing up and god i just MISS it

i have basic ideas, ill put them under the cut

the bulk of the rp would be character building, threads in camp and elsewhere - but i have this main gimmick idea for "quests":

they would be primarily crafted by admin (who have first dibs for playing cabin counselors too), and assigned to players who signed up to be on the quest "waiting list". admin (which would have a shared account so it didnt matter specifically Who) would play the parts of NPCS - including monster encounters. if/when gods showed up, they would also be played by admin

i'd love to implement some sort of ttrpg dice system, with quickfire threads for combat separate but linked to the main thread. monsters would have different stats, etc. and players could even consent to character deaths when signing up for quests!

demigods wouldnt be the only type of character available to make, but it would have to be the majority. satyrs, i think, would be the most numerous "side characters", maybe nymphs around camp. those details arent important rn tho

what i'm thinking:

with admin, i'm looking for people who know how to code and create custom layouts, graphics etc. ideally, 2-3 people so its not all one one person

i'd want the timeline to be vaguely post-pjo - meaning, there are more than the 12 cabins, less unclaimed demigods, etc. but its been a while since ive read the heroes of olympus and i've barely cracked open the first trials of apollo book so idk what Happened to affect the site's timeline/lore. so in my mind, it's just post-last olympian.

also, i wouldn't want to have canon characters - at the most, they'd be NPCs that are rarely used.

i know a big thing is that people have lives, and i have no idea what the forum-rp scene is like because i haven't been involved since.... god(s) idk, around 10 years???

me personally, i have the free time to be willing to overlook the site and get everything written out; admin i would want to be more active, of course, just enough to keep things running

age-wise, it wouldnt feel right to make it a 17+ forum, this is a kid's series after all. i think 13 is the limit for most if not all forums, and i'd be fine with that. player ages shouldn't be broadcasted, we could have some sort of Minor/Adult indicator but idk if even that would be necessary.

and i'd want at least a "proficient" level of writing, whatever the terms were - rp posts wouldnt need to be whole novels, but at least a chunky paragraph that the partner could work off

i'm hoping the popularity of the show will give me a chance to actually do this >:3

so uhhhh i guess if you're interested, shoot me a dm or reply to this post? let me know if you'd want to be an admin or mod, what you'd be able to do for the site, whatever you think is important to mention. if you just want to be a normal member and rp a funny lil demigod, thats fine too! maybe we could have Special Privileges for those who join at the start!

#pjo #percy jackson #pjo rp #roleplay #forum roleplay

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thekuraning · 1 year ago

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Could I please have 7, 9, 16, 24 and 27 for the fic writer ask? 💙

HFDUAIGHRQHG WOW THATS SO MANY thank you aria!!!!

as always... kura talk lots.... read more time!

7. your preferred writing fonts

For the longest time it was Arial, then basically from Covid lockdowns to maybe about a year ago I was a Comic Sans truther. But recently I've been using Optima and Trebuchet! There is something very delightfully round about them... they are soft like bunnies.... Bonus points, they're a bit of larger, thicker fonts, which makes is much easier for me to read. I have no idea if I'm dyslexic because I've never been tested but reading--while fun and one of my favorite pass-times--is like. So hard. And it feels like the longer I've been out of Lit classes the harder and harder reading gets. :') I've got a mountain of fics and books I'd like to read but it takes a lot of energy to keep track of what line im on that i gotta save it all up for writing... ive had city of dogs open in a tab for like months now bro i just wanna read.... TAT

But yeah I love me them thicker rounder weighted sort of fonts.

9. start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

so the last finished one-shot i posted was Who We Don't Expect to See, which took probably about six months to a year wrestling to get the dialogue to behave. The last complete multi-chapter fic was the Baristsa on Autumnal Avenue, which took about nine months!

As for unfinished works, I'm expecting Maelstrom to probably take another year , maybe year and a half at this pace! Ideally, I'd love to have it done by December which would mean a year and two months total, but we'll have to see thinking emoji

16. favorite place to write

I'm usually either at my desk in my office or on my couch lol and that's just a question of whether I feel more like writing on my desktop or my laptop! But since I started back at my local community college, I've found INSANE productivity at the campus cafe!! I don't know what it is, but as soon as my ass is sitting at the table with a coffee I'm like fucking sonic the hedgehog the way I start pumping chapters out. Probably about 80% of Maelstrom fic's been written in that little cafe!!

24. how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

banging my head against the wall until im creative again :( or until i knock myself out, whichever comes first

actually lol I spend a lot of my recharge time watching youtube or playing video games. I'm big into Splatoon and Phasmophobia! I used to be really into Fall Guys until Epic bought the game out. but mostly it's just youtube these days lolll cause once im out of creative juice thats like. it. my energy's gone and i tend to spiral, so I'll end up just snuggling my kitty and watching gamegrumps or something (i dont know why, he just really likes watching game grumps)

>:( we used to watch a lot of netflix together too but since they cracked down on account sharing and my parents managed the family account we can only get in on the desktop now... how are we supposed to snuggle like this!!! cozy kitty economy is in shambles smdh

27. your favorite part of the writing process

answered over here winky kissy face emoji

#i wish i could emoji on desktop #please settle for my descriptive emoji text #kurasays #ask game #isleofair #ty friend!!

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theweirdspacejellyfish · 11 months ago

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manga recs

royal fiance by asuma risai

summary: hanami kairi's fate changes when he accepted an offer from an old man to work for a rich family as a housekeeper. the low level job suddenly transforms into a wedding workout with his schoolmate, the foreign royal prince shou

crimson spell by yamane ayano

summary: in order to protect his people from attacking demons, Prince Val uses a demonic sword and curses himself in the process. he leaves his kingdom to find a cure, and his search leads him to Hallwil, the person rumored to the only one who knows how to break the curse. Hallwil agrees to help Val... for a price

junjou romantica by nakamura shungiku

summary: takahashi misaki is suddenly having some unexpected and odd problems. what started as a need for some college entrance exam tutoring has somehow led him to being romanced by a suave older man who happens to be his big brothers best friend. Confused by all of his brand new emotions, misaki struggles to deal with his suddenly very odd life. and if that wasnt enough, his suitor, usami akihiko has plenty of issues of his own. a man child who decorates his room in giant teddy bears and toys, usami is a famous novelist who also writes steamy boy love novels on the side. when misaki cracks open one of these books and reads sentences like usami licks every inch of misakis hot body will, lets just say all hell breaks loose

hatsujou animal by kamon saeko

summary: kyouichis elite high school and the delinquent school next door are separated by only a fence. one day by the fence, kyoichi meets chiba, a fearsome student known for speaking with his fists... a school story of star crossed lovers

mayday mayday mayday by gwendoline

summary: yoon yuno is a small time money launderer with a huge problem: he cant seem to escape the sexual advances of his client vasily ivanovich kaminsky, a handsome yet deadly russian mafia boss. yuno is terrified of kaminsky and determined to escape from him, but his attraction to the other man complicates matters. will yuno be able to resist kaminsky's overtures and save himself? or will he be devoured by kaminsky's unrelenting obsession?

hit on by a kinky guy by Bov

summary: " now, lets start the shoot." a sadistic cameramna x a pure tofu shop boy. he gently prepares him, driving him almost insane... is his reasoning reaching its limit..!?

hua hua you long by xing bao er

summary: in order to help their leader, Lu Cang, find a wife, bandits kidnap a woman from the mountains and offer her to him. Cang falls in love at first sight with the absolutely stunning beauty, however, on the night of the consummation

hitorijime boyfriend by arii memeko

summary: " would you like to break up with me again or be held, which would you prefer?" my former friend with the beautiful face, whom ive run into again after so long, only says things that cause me trouble. in the winter of sixth grade, kensuke was upset about having to separate from his best friend hasekura in middle school, and ended up breaking off their friendship. three years has passed since then, and hasekura comes in contact with kensuke like nothing had changed. kensuke was happy they could repair their friendship, but hasekura says something completely out of left field

#manga recommendation

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cherrybomboyfriend · 1 year ago

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a man with a hammer sees everything as a nail. a tarantula doused in poison sees life as a box of chocolates

may 15, 2024.

it’s been a few days since my last letter; i have no clue what to call these rants except for what they are? letters to an abyss of bystanding entities. it makes me so sad that one day all of you will die. this exact fact is the thing that keeps me up every night and tickles tears out of my eyes all the time. i’m tormented and tortured by fatality. one day my mother will die. one day my uncles will die. one day my friends will die. one day my little cousins will die. one day i’ll die. i’ll be forgotten like 50’s actresses that got booked for a single role then never appeared in anything ever again. mortality has been familiar with me since i was a child. one of my earliest (yet funnest?) memories was attending two funerals in one day. the first funeral was for an aunt on my grandmother’s side, and the second was for a cousin on my grandfather’s side. i remember looking at all of the solemn faces as a 7 year old and simply enjoying the fact that all of my family members were hanging out together, understanding that someone has lost their life and will never come back yet not being phased by it. the first funeral i’ve cried at was my father’s. i’m pretty sure i spent that entire day crying. i was 12 when i woke up in the middle of the night to police standing outside of my bedroom door. i peaked through the crack to see so much commotion in the hallway, not knowing what to do or what to think. hours passed before my mother crept my door open with a weak voice telling me that she’d be leaving me in the house alone to go with my father to the hospital. years later she told me that she already knew he was dead based on a feeling in her stomach. that was the first time in my entire life that i had felt such deep and guttural emptiness. i realized that humans weren’t rubber bands that relied on their elasticity to keep their pacemakers on. i realized that i could die at 12 years old.

these thoughts haunted me well into my teenage years, with those years rounding off with my grandmother’s death. she was a stubborn old woman who didn’t want to see any doctors and yelled at anyone who offered her help. i knew that her time was coming close to running over well before she passed, which haunted me. logistically it made sense, but spiritually? it drove me mad. sometimes i manage to convince myself that i can predict people’s deaths in manic delusional states. sometimes i get “an itch”, then start sobbing thinking about how one of my friends is probably dying as i wipe tears from my eyes. i’m haunted by my own intuition and i question it every day. i question if i can control time and death. i question if life is even worth living if im gonna spend every minute of it waiting for the day that the birds chirp in slow motion and my breath hitches at an uncontrollable rate. i’m terrified.

i hate how much these thoughts control me. i would take any pill that allows me to not think about the concept of death for at least one day. at least one hour. at least one minute. why doesn’t anyone else feel the same way i do? people plan their future without any anxiety and i don’t understand it. why are you planning a cruise for 2 years from now when you could possibly crash in your car on the way there? why are you planning on attending undergrad school when you could get shot tomorrow? why are you beginning things that could abruptly end? why are we living just to die? what am i supposed to do with these thoughts? put them inside of my purse and eat them as snacks whenever the government decides that im too old for assistance? do i spit these words into a bottle douce them in alcohol then chug them back inside until i get poisoning and see the light? what do i do with the amount of thoughts that haunt me every night?

i can’t do anything. it’s the most freeing and dismal thing ive had to realize. i still don’t think i realize it because i cry at any thought of an end-of-the-world situation. i can’t do anything and i can’t escape. if there were a way to make people immortal scientists would’ve done it by now. i just have to accept my fate. these thoughts make me feel like a prisoner on death row screaming and pleading for the electric shock to implode on itself as soon as it reaches an inch away from my forehead. i don’t know what to do. i don’t know how to prevent it from making me sad every day. i want out, but i can’t get out. i don’t know how to end this letter. i just want things to get better. i want to come to terms with these thoughts instead of pushing them away. i want to be the average joe. i don’t want mortality to run my life like a big soccer game. i watch the shot clock as i hyperventilate from my bed. i don’t want to go to sleep anymore.

okay well… if there’s one positive note that i can clench onto as a send off it’s that i’m glad that we’ve invented chocolate. it’s the best creation ever. sweet treats. if humans weren’t here then there’d be no chocolate. or at least any as good as the bars i get from the grocery store. i love those. and nutella. and chocolate wafers. i’d die for one of those. i’m happy again. goodnight. sweet dreams my little mortals. we’re all gonna be alright.

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aestheticvoyage2024 · 1 year ago

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Day 135: Tuesday May 14, 2024 - "Ego Is The Enemy"

While Ive put both book 4 and 5 aside, an executive decision to soak in Ryan Holiday's Ego Is The Enemy. Book 6 was officially started almost a month ago now, in the airport as I flew to Delaware for a day long personal development that focused on the necessity to tame the ego. But a few things are special here about this book; first, I got this copy in Portland earlier this year at Powell's Books - a signature locale. And then when I cracked it open for the first time I noticed an index card. Not all that odd I suppose, book stores typically have some kind of index card in it. But this was cool - Ryan had been there, and this was very definitely his signature on the card in the inside cover. I flipped it over, and the back side of the car had his notes for me -> "want you to be: sure footed, sure headed, balanced, still. Very cool.

But even better, this book was the first I stamped with the special embosser stamp that my parents got me for my birthday last month. I thought that was fitting. Very very cool.

I am finding the stories useful - the anecdotes and writing style familiar to the author I dedicate a few minutes to every morning with my two daily readers on the stoics. But this laser focus on this topic is helpful. My ego gets me into trouble far more than I can give it credit for. And while I commit to the effort of changing tracks, starting here seems like a great place to get that block moving.

Song: Rush Sturges - Wild Places (feat. John Craigie and Shook Twins)

Quote: “When we remove ego, we’re left with what is real. What replaces ego is humility, yes—but rock-hard humility and confidence. Whereas ego is artificial, this type of confidence can hold weight. Ego is stolen. Confidence is earned. Ego is self-anointed, its swagger is artifice. One is girding yourself, the other gaslighting. It’s the difference between potent and poisonous.” ― Ryan Holiday, Ego Is the Enemy

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xaracosmia · 2 years ago

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ꕥ — WELCOME TO NEFE COSMIA, ODILE. 🌓

ꕥ — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: arte(mis) age: 24 pronouns: they / she ooc contact: smearedcanvases twt, forgedsplendor tumblr other characters in xc: getou suguru, the goddess of resentment ( and celiami malinao )

ꕥ — IC INFORMATION;

name: odile age: 44 pronouns: she / her series: in stars and time canon point: post game app triggers: n / a

personality: she’s a fucking old lady.

technically, not really, because forty isn’t old, and more than that she doesn’t want that to be her personality, she really doesn’t— but when your entire party is, at least, two whole decades younger than you, practically half your entire life time ( and double theirs, what an awful thought ) it’s kind of inevitable. she takes the position with grace, though… and a bit of an attitude, but she deserves that at the very least.

odile’s learned some things in her forty years; not a whole lot, that’s why she’s out here traveling in the first place, has the moniker of “the researcher” in their silly little party, so on and so forth. for all her crankiness she cares for them deeply, and she’s more than happy to impart whatever wisdom she has upon them; despite her craft type, she is firmly, proudly, undoubtedly their rock.

something your muse struggles with: patience. she’s cranky.

your muse’s greatest strength: … also patience. of the emotional type!

history / background:

odile was a liar by omission.

or perhaps that’s not quite right. it’d be “by omission” if isabeau had said nothing, and she continued to say nothing— but the moment he’d questioned it, she’d had the choice to lie, or to come clean.

is it possible to lie without saying a single thing? that is how odile felt that afternoon, the way the kids start verbally wrestling with each other in their attempt to crack her open; to them, this was a weakness in the shell, an opening, and it’s easy to toss them the bone and watch them fight with each other like puppies, playful and with teeth but no fangs.

she’s fond of them, more than anything. born in ka bue but here in vaugarde to learn, she finds her greatest teachers are a bunch of twenty somethings and an actual, literal child. of course, she knew from the very beginning of her journey, that little of her studies would be found in libraries, or schools, or houses— but she finds herself easily and quickly in these first strangers, then friends, now family.

mirabelle and isabeau. then siffrin. then bonnie. the search for herself is never ending, but she’s certain, with them by her side, that it’s right there— nestled between their quiet, beating hearts. all of theirs.

powers / abilities:

CRAFT SKILLS. in stars and time’s equivalent of magic. rock paper scissors, pretty literally: odile’s a paper type, so she’s weak to scissors, resistant against rock, you can figure it out. she’s also capable of using all three craft types. craft type determines the palm shape when attacking— or is it the other way around? who knows. whichever it is, odile attacks with an open palm.

Scissors III. deals scissors damage to an enemy.

Rock III. deals rock damage to one enemy.

Paper III. deals paper damage to one enemy.

Slow IV. slows down enemies for a few turns.

Paper α V. deals big paper damage to one enemy.

Craft Buff. strengthens one friend’s resistance to a craft type for a few turns.

Craft Break. makes an enemy weaker to a craft type’s attacks for a few turns.

Craft Break α. makes an enemy weaker to all craft types for a few turns.

inherent abilities:

EXAMINE. analyze an enemy. this just means she’s perceptive tbh but she’s in an rpg

MEMORIES. she’s got some! truthfully i’m not sure how they work considering siffrin’s the one in charge of them but these are out there somewhere in the aether…

Memory of Odile. +5 to all stats.

Memory of Tonics. health items used by odile restores more hp.

Memory of First Strike. attack speed up at start of battle.

Memory of a Secret. +50 attack.

items / weapons:

DENSE BOOK. book of spells. probably

GEOMETRIC GLASSES. she’s got bad eyes

OPAQUE GLASSES. boosts attack and crit chance, but lowers defence.

starting ability: scissors iii starting item: geometric glasses

extra:

she’s afraid of heights like me and i like that

might add more but we’ll see ( explodes )

discord id: edgeoftheuniverse

passcode: hi

#xc application #mun: artemis #nefe cosmia

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killeriknik · 2 years ago

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Killer Fish #1:

2000s Christian Metal

cleaning out some drawers, i rediscovered this album today. unfortunately, the cd and front cover have been lost somewhere in my house (hopefully). but it reminded me of a subgenre, or really a movement, that i hadnt considered fully before.

i found this cd in the basement of an odd store, half of which is a Moon Pie General Store, where you could find anything moonpie related as well as typical tourist junk. however, the other part of this business is a christian book store. on the main floor they sold new books. past the selections of bibles and christian novels/self help/anything, past the surprisingly funny secular selections of diary of a wimpy kid and Five Nights at Freddys novels, and past the section of childrens entertainment, there is a GIGANTIC basement.

scontent-atl3-1.xx.fbcdn.net

scontent-atl3-2.xx.fbcdn.net

im not sure where the basement items they sold at a discounted price came from. it was like flea market levels of unsold stock. im talkin odd sh*t. at points they had 18+ erotica from the 90s, some Star Wars Episode 1 merch i regret not buying, 14 billion copies of a political hate book about president Obama, and of course a shit ton of cds. ive found suprisingly obscure and amazing books there, but thats not what this is about.

sometime maybe 2020-2021 i found this cd for 3 bucks. being an edgy teen with a hatred of Christianity, i was enthralled to find such a cd with the album name "buried alive." at a time in my life where i had limited to no internet access but blossoming music taste (and an impressive cd collection), I listened to this shit SO MUCH. heres one of my favs.

youtube

(sorry, wish i could find a better site to link their music, but the only site they seemed to upload to was myspace, and for some reason the site is broken, idk im not familiar with myspace)

The band Inhale Exhale was a semi popular american metal(core) group, hailing from Ohio. and like so many independent rock bands with the best music youve ever heard, they promptly disbanded with only a few albums under their belt.

R.I.P inhale exhale, 2005 - 2013.

its that yummy yummy mix of metal, emo, melodic hardcore, and probably countless other labels (can you tell i have a distaste for genres?) that rocked the scene in the 2000s to early 2010s, around a time when the Jesus Freak Movement had revived and infused its 70s hippie values into the grungey, edgy and dark undertones of the late 90s-00s, delivering the gospel with a unabashed punch. truly of another era, an era i wish i had experienced. i think this was the first "metal" music i ever listened to on my own, but i found out just today that they were in fact a christian metal band.

this year ive been really into metal related music. but ive also been really into the concept of christianity. my family, really my entire community ive been raised in is "christian". going to "christian" schools, having only christian "friends", adult role models who were "christian", its always been about salvation and damnation. as i became a teenager, i evolved into a creature who despised this religion, for many good reasons im sure ill talk on another time, but also pure teenage rebellion. studying the bible this year (as a part of my last year in.. you guessed it... a christian school) has been oddly eye-opening. maybe ive matured since i last cracked open the holy bibbel. but ive found myself debating the idea of it. at its core, it seems to my mind to be the best sounding religion out there. what i love most is the rich story and the themes of love, redemption, brokenness, true evil and true good; they resonate with me.

christian metal really hits the spot. the themes i have deep history with, pared with the aggression and beauty of the screams and rage filled melodic guitar riffs, as well as my personally over powering, nostalgic/anmoiac obsession for the 00s and early 10s creates a great mix. its a movement of music i wish i could be present in.

and why did christian metalcore decline in popularity into the 10s and 20s? im sure theres not an easy answer. i mean, look at popular christian music and culture today. its

so.

BLAND.

so void of life and culture, void of our beautiful human qualities. they speak the same, often hateful, script; they water down the thought provoking concepts and stories of their religion, and they try to remove what they think isnt acceptable. a lot of these christian metalcore groups have abandoned their roots, stating their disagreements with Christianity, which of course is valid.

hey, im still not sold on christianity, im still learning. everyone has their own free will to find what idealogies or lack thereof to believe in. so i mean no hate

i do feel though, in certain circumstances perhaps, this says something disturbing abt modern christianity. its mindnumbing. its boring. its really sad and honestly, with how perfected it appears to be, its f*cking ugly.

it also seems to connect with the way life today just dosent hit like it used to, and i know im not alone in my age group thinking this. there seems to be a blandness encroaching on our art and lives today. in the music, films, internet; a corporatization and general simplification of our art has been slowly killing us.

i long for a time when christians could death growl about god. but honestly, this can be done today if we really try. fuck modern christianity, fuck modernism in general; this isnt just for the christians. go nuts. scream, riot, portray your truths how you want to, dont follow some guideline.

i might have gotten out of hand with this post, i dont want to get to philosophical here. i guess thats what this blog is for though. christian metalcore is really cool tho, check it out. you might be surprised how many popular metal bands from that era had ties to christianity. ill include some recommendations, or you can search it out yourself.

have a punk ass day,

-nikki

(yeah i decided to use my current name, fuck it)

some bands:

A Plea For Purging.

Shiver.

Heart of a Child.

The Fall.

Malevolence.

Underoath.

Norma Jean.

For Today.

Impending Doom.

Wolves At The Gate.

Phinehas.

Midst of Lions.

Demon Hunter.

killer fish.

#emo #early 2000s #90s #rant #tumblog #nu metal #metalcore #christcore #christianity #christian broadcasting network #christian metal #jesus freak #underoath #inhale exhale #demon hunter #rock #Spotify #Youtube

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mjonthetrack · 2 months ago

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vice: book IV

Chapter 114

"Deck of Cards"

Tamika had been asleep for hours. It wasn’t the nap kind of sleep either — it was the post-surgery, drugged, full-belly kind of KO. She was curled into the expensive pillows of their shared bed in her sleep bonnet and a Savage x Fenty tee that was absolutely not hers. Jacob knew that shirt was his because she cut it off him once with some kitchen shears during one of her little “playful” moods. It’d been hers ever since.

She lay sprawled in the middle of the bed, the whole room carrying the soft scent of her body butter and lavender spray. Her presence was always loud, but when she was sleeping like this, it was quiet dominance. He hadn’t left her side all night.

That’s when the soft knock came. Not at the front door — no. The bedroom door.

Jacob cracked it open, brow furrowed, only to see Jey, Jimmy, and Sefa standing there, trying not to look like they were all giddy off mischief. Behind them, Marsai, Nadia, and Leilapua waved like teenagers smuggling liquor.

Sefa stepped up first. “You ready?”

Jacob looked back at the bed. “She gon’ wake up soon. You sure they hid everything good?”

Jey smirked. “Man, even JJ helped tape balloons. It’s go time.”

Marsai whispered, “We got the chef, the drinks, her playlist. All that’s left is you.”

Leilapua passed over the little velvet box.

Jacob stared at it for a second. It was heavy. White gold. Big halo. Deep emerald-cut diamond, surrounded by smaller ones, encrusted all the way around the band — an avalanche of stone. Inside the band was an engraving that read: "You always had my heart. Now you got my last name."

He swallowed. For a second, he forgot to breathe.

“Damn,” Jimmy muttered. “You tryna right all your wrongs at once.”

Jacob smirked. “Somethin’ like that.”

Downstairs, the entire living room had been flipped. White roses, candles, framed photos from their old days. A playlist on low — Tamika’s favorites: Beyoncé, Brandy, Rihanna, a little Mary J. The cousins were tucked into corners and behind the kitchen island like grown-ass children playing hide-and-seek.

Back upstairs, Tamika blinked awake slowly, lips dry and brows twitching.

“Why you look like you hid somethin’?” she croaked out, voice hoarse.

Jacob walked over, pressed a kiss to her temple, and grinned. “You gon’ be mad if I say I need you to get dressed?”

“Boy, what?” she groaned, pulling the blanket over her face.

“Just throw something on. I ain’t gonna lie. I need you downstairs.”

“Mmm.” She peeked one eye out. “This better not be about no damn dishes.”

Twenty minutes later, Tamika, still a little disoriented, wandered barefoot down the steps in a soft caramel dress that hugged her body naturally. Hair pulled into a clip. Lip gloss on. She looked good without trying. She didn’t even notice the lights were dimmed.

Then—

“SURPRISE!”

Tamika’s head jerked back as the room exploded in cheers. “Oh HELL—!”

She blinked in disbelief. There were fairy lights strung across the ceiling, balloons, champagne glasses, candles, cake. Everybody dressed like it was a wedding already. JJ, Jasmine, Messiah, the babies — all running around underfoot.

“Wait what is this?!”

She spun to Jacob.

“Don’t tell me this a damn—”

But he was already lowering to one knee. Slowly. Deliberately.

The room fell silent.

Tamika froze. Her breath caught. She laughed. “Jacob.”

He opened the velvet box.

Gasps flew across the room. The ring shone like sin.

“I know it’s been over twenty years. I know I did a lot wrong. I know you ain’t need me, but you kept me fed when I ain’t have nobody. You made a home for me when I forgot how to even live in one.”

He exhaled slowly.

“I’m not askin’ for your time. You already gave me half your life. I’m askin’ for your future. Marry me, T. For real this time. Forever.”

Tamika stared. Her hand went to her mouth. The other gripped the edge of the counter.

For once, she was speechless.

Then her face cracked — a laugh burst out. Then a sob.

“You...you really down there huh?”

He smirked, still kneeling. “I’m down bad. Just say yes.”

Tamika finally stepped forward, chest rising and falling. She stared at the ring, then at him.

“You gone help me plan it?”

“Every second.”

“You know I need custom lace and good food.”

“Already got vendors lined up.”

“You know I still got beef with your cousin Angie.”

“She not even invited.”

“...Then yeah, I guess I could do forever with your big-headed ass.”

The house erupted.

Screams, stomps, kids yelling, champagne popping. Jacob slipped the ring on her finger and she stared at it like it weighed a hundred pounds.

Tamika looked up and grinned. “Bout damn time.”

Tamika sat down slowly. Her knees gave a little, and Jacob was right there to steady her as she dropped onto the edge of the sectional like she didn’t trust the room not to spin again. Her chest was rising and falling like she’d just run a mile, and her mouth was still parted like she couldn’t quite catch up to what just happened.

The ring on her finger sparkled like it had its own damn agenda, but her gaze wasn’t on it. It was locked on Jacob — still kneeling in front of her, one hand on her knee, the other resting on her thigh like this wasn’t one of the biggest moments of their lives.

“Jacob…” she started, then cut herself off with a laugh that sounded half-wild. “If this a prank or somethin’, just know I will hunt you down and there won’t be a braid left on that big head of yours.”

Laughter exploded from behind the kitchen island — Jimmy nearly dropped a baby bottle. Marsai wheezed. Even Sefa spit out his drink.

Jacob just grinned. That slow, cocky grin that said he was sure. For once in his life, he wasn’t running or fumbling or bullshitting. “Ain’t no prank, mama. You mine. For real this time.”

Tamika looked down at the ring again like it might disappear if she blinked too hard. White gold, fat diamond, engraved promises. That thing said “wife” louder than anyone ever had.

“I had drugs pumped outta me forty-eight hours ago,” she muttered, still blinking too fast. “I been wearin’ the same bonnet for three days. You gon’ propose while I’m still breathin’ ginger ale fumes?”

Jacob kissed her hand. “You always been beautiful. This ain’t about perfect conditions, T. This about time catchin’ up to us.”

She exhaled slowly, voice wobbling now. “I ain’t got the energy to cry, but just know my soul sobbin’.”

From the back, one of the aunties sniffled. “We all are.”

Tamika turned to the crowd, eyebrows raised. “Y’all knew?”

The whole room nodded and hooted like a damn choir.

“Y’all sat here and let me walk around here still swoll from surgery, actin’ like it was just brunch!”

Nadia shouted, “We had to, sis! Jacob threatened to run if anybody ruined the surprise.”

JJ hollered from the side, “Unc said it was grown man business!”

The kids ran over then, clambering into her lap, touching the ring with sticky fingers.

Tamika pulled them close, held them, and looked at Jacob again. Her voice was smaller now, eyes big and vulnerable.

“You really mean it? We really gon’ do this?”

Jacob didn’t flinch. “I’m already yours. Let’s just make it legal.”

She finally smiled. Full and soft. “Then I guess I’m finally Mrs. Fatu, huh?”

Jacob smirked, eyes glassy but proud. “Damn right you are.”

Chapter 115: “This Is What Love Look Like”

The morning sun spilled soft golden light across the Fatu compound's wide open-air patio, casting everything in a quiet glow. Breakfast was halfway eaten, the kids running around chasing bubbles, aunties humming as they wiped down tables, and the smell of cinnamon pancakes still clung to the air.

Jacob stood near the edge, towering and quiet in a crisp black tee and joggers, arms folded. He didn’t expect much this morning—not after the night before. The proposal was still ringing in his chest, and the way Tamika had said yes? That’d already cracked him open a little.

But she wasn’t done with him yet.

“Big,” her voice called, soft but sure, from behind. He turned and there she was—Tamika, barefoot in a robe, curls pinned back, still visibly healing but standing proud. Her voice was stronger than the past few days, and in her hand, she held a small navy box.

She came to him, grabbed his hands in hers. “You always talk about how I stuck by you,” she said, looking up at him. “But I don’t think you know what that really means. I never stopped loving you. Not once.”

The chatter slowly faded. Cousins, aunties, nieces—all quieted as Tamika’s voice filled the morning.

“I loved you when I was thirteen and you snuck me your last Capri Sun,” she smiled faintly, tears already beginning to line her eyes. “I loved you when I used to wait for your calls from that little trap cell... when I had to take your name off my lease but still left your clothes in my drawer.”

Jacob blinked, swallowing hard.

“I loved you when the whole world told me to forget you. When your name made people flinch. When loving you hurt,” she said. “And I’d go through every single piece of that hell again… if it meant standing here with you today.”

Jacob’s hand trembled. Tamika gripped tighter.

“You ain’t just my man, Jacob. You’re my best friend. My headache. My safest place. And you? You are the only person I ever wanted to give this heart to.”

She reached into the box and pulled out a thick stack of old, faded envelopes. Everyone watched in silence.

“These… are the letters I wrote you. Every week for five years. They kept coming back—cops wouldn’t let ‘em through. Said you wasn’t taking no mail. But I still wrote. I wanted you to know I never left.”

He was already blinking fast now, chest rising and falling unevenly.

“And this?” she said softly, reaching back into the box, pulling out a small, slightly worn Cuban link bracelet. “This was from when we were kids. That first summer I got a job at camp. I saved every dime to get this for you. You wore it 'til you lost it in a fight. But I found it. Kept it all this time.”

She held it out to him, palms shaking. “Now I’m giving it back. ‘Cause we both found our way back.”

His lip quivered. The tough, stoic man—the one who hadn’t cried since the day his mother passed—broke right there in front of everybody. He dropped his head into her shoulder, and Tamika held him, wrapping her arms around him like she’d been holding him up his whole life.

Gasps from the aunties. Marsai and Nadia both wiping tears. Even Jey and Jimmy turned away, faces twisted up.

Tamika whispered, “I’m so proud of you, Jacob. Of the man you are now. And I can’t wait to finally be a Fatu. For real. Forever.”

The whole patio exploded in tears, cheers, claps, and hugs. But for a moment, all they could see was each other.

Chapter 116: “Home Always Found Us”

He didn’t say much.

After she said all that in front of everybody—after she handed him that box of old letters and that worn little Cuban link bracelet from two decades ago—Jacob couldn’t form real words. His chest was too full. His heart was pounding in places he didn’t know still worked.

He took her hand and just… walked. Quietly. Away from the crowd, away from the sobbing aunties, away from the cousins trying not to cry in front of their girls.

They slipped upstairs, back into the master bedroom—where the light spilled golden through the white curtains and the bed was still messy from earlier naps and laughter.

He sat her down gently on the edge. She was still sore, still healing, still pale from everything she’d been through. And yet, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Tamika looked up at him, voice soft. “You okay?”

Jacob didn’t answer right away. He kneeled down in front of her, holding both her thighs, resting his forehead against her knee like it grounded him. He was too big for this posture—but it felt right. Like reverence.

“You been loving me when I ain’t love myself,” he said, voice ragged, low. “You been prayin’ for me when I was out there destroying everything. You been... waitin’. Shit, Mika. You waited.”

She cupped the side of his head gently, running her fingers over his braids. “I did,” she whispered.

He lifted his head slowly. “And you still here.”

Tamika blinked, her own tears running free now. “Still here. Always.”

He leaned in, kissing her knees, her thighs, then pulled her gently forward, guiding her onto the bed. There was no rush. No hunger. Just quiet reverence.

He lay beside her, pulling the blankets up around her shoulders. She curled into him, face tucked under his jaw, hand pressed over his heart.

Jacob held her like she was sacred.

“I read every one of those letters tonight,” he murmured.

“You better,” she smiled faintly. “That’s five years of my pen game.”

He chuckled through the tears he tried to hide. “You a writer for real, huh?”

“Just for you,” she whispered. “Only for you.”

He kissed her forehead, lips warm and slow. “You really gon’ be my wife.”

“I always was,” she whispered, eyes closing. “We just didn’t know it yet.”

They stayed like that—curled close, surrounded by the warmth of the morning and the noise of family drifting faintly through the walls. But in that room, there was only them.

Jacob rested his hand on her stomach gently, like protecting her was instinct now. “I got you. From here on out.”

Tamika nodded slowly against him. “I know.”

And for the first time in their entire chaotic love story, peace didn’t feel borrowed. It felt earned.

Chapter 117: “We Wasn’t Done”

The sun was barely over the waves when the Fatu family gathered for breakfast on the beach. Long tables stretched across the sand, covered in tropical fruit, platters of eggs, bacon, sausages, fried rice, and pastries. Coolers of fresh juice and sweet coffee lined the side. Laughter rolled down the shoreline as the younger cousins splashed in the water while the elders and aunties dished out plates and wrangled children with practiced ease.

Jacob hadn’t stopped smiling since last night. The ring was on her hand. His woman was his fiancée. His family was whole. She was upstairs getting dressed, she’d told him — “gimme a sec, I gotta fix my eyebrows, I look dead”— and he’d kissed her forehead and went ahead down to help set up.

The laughter, the chatter, the joy… it came to a sudden, cold halt.

Because there she was, Tamika Banks—no, Tamika Fatu—walking across the sand barefoot, wind tugging at her robe, face pale. She didn’t speak. Just walked. Eyes huge. Shaking.

In her hand: a single white envelope.

And she handed it to the first person she saw.

Jey took it without thinking, still chewing a mouthful of sausage. “Yo, Mika, you good?”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t blink.

Jey ripped open the envelope, started reading the results inside, and immediately choked on his food. “What the fu—”

Nadia shot up and snatched the paper from his hand, scanning it quickly—eyes widening with every line. She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth, eyes flickering to Tamika, then to Jacob.

Jimmy was already moving. “Give me that.” He read it, jaw slowly dropping. “Yo.”

Marsai leaned in. “What? What is it?”

He passed it to her. “You gon’ see for yourself.”

She covered her mouth too, and it was moving down the table now. Sefa got it next, and when he looked up from the paper, his head snapped toward Tamika so hard it almost looked like it hurt. “No f**ing way.*”

Jacob, who had been busy pouring orange juice for one of the kids, stiffened. The whole table had gone silent. Eyes had turned toward her.

“What is it?” he asked, stepping closer. “Y’all gon’ say something or—”

Leilapua was already moving, already reading it over Sefa’s shoulder—and then she ran.

She ran over the sand barefoot in her sundress, reaching Tamika, wrapping her arms around her tight. And then she did something no one expected—her hand gently rested on Tamika’s stomach.

Jacob stopped cold.

Tamika was still standing there like she’d been frozen in time. Face blank. Eyes distant. Paper still fluttering slightly in Jey’s hand behind them.

Jacob stepped forward slowly, voice shaking. “Mika.”

She turned her head like she was waking from a dream.

“Baby… what is it?”

Her voice was so quiet, he barely caught it over the waves.

“I thought it was just the meds,” she whispered. “I thought the nausea was from surgery. The headaches. I thought it was stress. That it was nothing.”

“What is it?” he repeated, closer now.

Tamika finally looked at him—eyes glassy, mouth parted open in disbelief. She didn’t answer.

Jey did.

“It’s a positive lab panel,” he said hoarsely, holding the paper like it was explosive. “She’s pregnant.”

The silence cracked wide open.

Jacob blinked slowly, his brain working overtime, but nothing was computing. “What?”

“She’s pregnant,” Nadia whispered again, walking over, voice breaking with emotion. “She’s... really pregnant.”

Tamika’s lip trembled. “Jacob... I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”

Leilapua was crying quietly now, rubbing her back, still holding her like glass.

And Jacob?

He just stared.

Like his whole world had shifted again. Like God had flipped another page neither of them saw coming.

A baby.

A second chance.

A new life.

And the woman who had waited through hell, cried in silence, loved him through bars and broken dreams—she was carrying his child.

Chapter 118: "The Ultimate Surprise"

The morning air was crisp with the salt of the ocean breeze as the sun stretched lazily across the sky, warming the Fatu family villa. It was one of those mornings that felt like something was about to shift, a change in the air that none of them could quite place.

The whole family was gathered at a lavish breakfast spread, the kind you only get in an exclusive beachside villa—fresh fruit, croissants, eggs, bacon, mimosas flowing freely. Jacob was seated at the far end of the table, his face still a little groggy from the whirlwind of the night before. He had only just started to come to terms with the proposal, and now he was still lost in the euphoria of it all, processing the new chapter that lay before him. But nothing had prepared him for what was about to happen next.

Tamika had been missing from the breakfast, still recovering from the whirlwind of emotions and the events that had shaken her to her core. Her thoughts were far away, her mind still wrestling with the reality of the life inside her. The moment was monumental, but she had yet to truly process it herself.

She stepped out of the villa, walking towards the family beachside breakfast with a mixture of shock, awe, and hesitation still clouding her every step. She had the medical results in her hand, the ones that confirmed the undeniable: she was pregnant. Her legs felt heavy, like they were carrying a weight she had never imagined. Her heart raced with anxiety, but there was no turning back now.

As soon as she stepped onto the sand, the sight of her family hit her like a ton of bricks. They were all gathered, chatting, laughing, the same warmth they always carried among them hanging in the air. But the second they saw her walking toward them, a hush fell over the group. It was as if the ocean itself had stilled, the waves retreating for a brief moment.

Her hands were shaking slightly as she walked, the paper in her grip so tight it crinkled in her hands. Her heart was in her throat. She walked toward Jey, her hand trembling slightly as she handed him the letter. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes at first, her gaze still distant. She wasn’t ready to face the shock that was about to come, but she had no choice.

Jey took the letter from her, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He opened it, scanning the results quickly, his face turning to confusion before shock registered.

His breath caught in his throat.

“What the hell is this?” Jey muttered, but his voice sounded strained, like he couldn’t fully process what was in front of him.

His wife, Nadia, saw the shift in his demeanor almost immediately. She leaned in to see what he was holding, her eyes widening in disbelief as she read. Her mouth dropped open, and without saying a word, she clutched her hand to her chest.

“Oh, my God,” Nadia whispered, her voice shaky. “No way.”

Jey stood up quickly, the letter still clutched in his hands as he looked from Nadia to the rest of the family, the disbelief written all over his face. “This... Tamika, you’re...?”

Before he could finish his sentence, the letter was snatched out of his hands by Jimmy, his own brother.

“What the hell is this?” Jimmy echoed, his voice full of disbelief. He looked at the paper for a long moment before his eyes shot to Tamika, who was still standing there, her face a mixture of confusion and fear.

The whole family seemed to lean in, waiting for something—anything—to break the tension. It was Nadia who reacted next, her mouth dropping open as she placed a hand over her chest in shock.

“Tamika... no,” she whispered.

Marsai, standing beside her, her jaw tight with disbelief, finally spoke up. “What is this? Tamika, is this...?”

Tamika barely heard her, her gaze locked on the paper in Jimmy’s hands, trying to make sense of the words, trying to make sense of the news. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. But it was Sefa, standing at the other end of the table, that finally broke it.

Sefa’s dark eyes were wide with confusion, his hand held firmly to his wife Leilapua’s, but even she could feel him shaking. He read the letter, his hand trembling with each word, until finally, his gaze lifted to Tamika, then to Leilapua.

The atmosphere shifted in an instant, as the weight of the situation settled over them.

Then, without a word, Leilapua stood up. Her movements were shaky, but she was calm in her own way. She moved toward Tamika, her hand reaching out to gently pull her in for a hug. Tamika stood frozen in place, too stunned to react. She hadn’t even fully processed her own pregnancy yet, let alone what was happening around her.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Leilapua’s voice trembled as she pulled back from the hug just enough to speak. Her lips parted, and she spoke in a voice that was both strong and soft, filled with emotion.

“I’m pregnant too.”

The words cut through the air, leaving everyone around them in stunned silence. Tamika’s eyes locked with her friend’s, her brain not quite computing what had just been said.

“What?” Tamika whispered, her voice barely audible.

Leilapua smiled through her tears, but there was a nervous energy in the way her hands trembled. She pulled her shirt up just slightly, revealing the small but unmistakable bump growing beneath her conservative clothing.

Tamika’s hands shot to her mouth in shock. She stood there, gaping, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She couldn’t believe it. Leilapua was pregnant, too? Her friend, the woman she had shared so much of her life with, was about to become a mother just like her.

Leilapua smiled, tears welling in her eyes. “Yeah. We’re both pregnant. Surprise, right?”

Tamika stood still, staring at her with wide eyes, before finally pulling her into a hug. She didn’t care who saw. Her world was spinning, but this... this was the kind of miracle she never saw coming. Two friends, both in different parts of their journey, and now they were going to experience motherhood together.

“Oh my God,” Tamika murmured. “I didn’t even... I didn’t know, Pua.”

The shock on Jacob’s face was palpable as he stood a few steps away, his hands shaking as he watched the exchange. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He had been so focused on the news about Tamika, he hadn’t even realized that Leilapua, his cousin’s wife, had been hiding the same secret.

Sefa, still in shock, took a step forward and grabbed his wife’s hand tightly. His face was a mask of disbelief. “Are you serious?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Are you really—”

Leilapua nodded, her face filled with love and wonder. “I’m pregnant, Sefa. Just like Tamika. We’re going to be mothers together.”

The two of them stood there for a long moment, the emotions of the moment washing over them. Sefa’s strong hands gripped his wife tightly, his eyes swimming with unshed tears.

“I’m going to be a dad,” Sefa murmured, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

Jacob was still processing everything in the background, his hand resting on his face, his eyes wide with disbelief. He had always had a hard time believing in the future. And now, here he was, about to be a father. He had always been cautious with love, hesitant, but this? This was something different. This was real.

Tamika, now fully understanding the significance of what was happening, turned to face her fiancé. Her eyes were wide with emotion as she reached out for him, her hand resting gently on his chest. “Jacob, we’re gonna be parents,” she whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Jacob met her gaze, his own eyes filled with unshed tears, and for the first time, he really saw her. The woman who had stood by him through everything. The woman he was about to spend the rest of his life with.

“Yeah,” Jacob whispered, his voice hoarse. “We are.”

Chapter 118: "The Ultimate Surprise" (Continued)

As the shock began to settle in, Jacob stood there, his hand still covering his mouth as he tried to process everything. Tamika, standing before him with the weight of the moment heavy on her shoulders, was still caught up in the shock of Leilapua’s unexpected news. But then, Jacob’s eyes shifted, a mix of disbelief and something else—something more raw—came across his face.

Leilapua’s words had hit him like a wave, and though he was already reeling from the revelation that Tamika was pregnant, the fact that his cousin Sefa and his wife were about to have their first child too—at the same time—left him speechless. He’d spent so many years being hesitant, scared, unsure about everything in his life, but now? Now everything was changing at once, and it was more than he ever could’ve imagined.

Sefa was standing there, too stunned to speak for a moment, just holding Leilapua’s hand, his expression unreadable as he stared at the tiny bump that would soon grow into something much more.

Sefa’s voice came out barely above a whisper, rough and shaken. “We’ve been trying... for so long. Nothing was working. I... I can’t believe this is really happening. This means the world to Leilapua and me.” His eyes locked onto his wife, softening with the emotions he was holding back. His hand reached out, gently touching her stomach, as if making sure this was real. The pain and longing he had carried for so long, the uncertainty of their journey to parenthood, all seemed to melt away with that simple, unspoken moment between them.

Leilapua smiled at him, eyes bright with unshed tears, and in that moment, everything she’d been through—the heartbreak, the frustration—seemed worth it. Her little secret had been a difficult one to keep, but now, standing in front of everyone, it felt so much lighter. She was going to be a mother, and so was Tamika. Their paths had always been intertwined, but now they were about to walk the same journey, side by side.

Sefa, his face still filled with disbelief, looked around at the family. The same people who had been through so many highs and lows with him—his brothers, his cousins, their wives—he saw their reactions, the surprise, the joy, and the love that enveloped the group. And in that moment, he knew his life would never be the same again.

He stepped forward to Leilapua, pulling her into his arms tightly. His voice shook as he whispered, "I’m so glad we’re finally here, baby. I’m going to be the best damn dad I can be."

As the words left his lips, it was Jacob’s turn to break free from his stunned silence. His eyes, which had been locked on Tamika with a look that was still a mixture of awe and uncertainty, shifted now to something more intense—raw, overwhelmed emotion.

Jacob was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but this? This was too big, too monumental to bottle up. The love he had for Tamika—everything they had been through together, all the ups and downs, the moments that made them stronger—came crashing down on him. It was real now. She was carrying his child. She was his. And he was finally ready to face it all.

Without a word, Jacob moved toward her, closing the distance between them in an instant. Before anyone could react, he grabbed Tamika by the waist, pulling her in so tightly that she almost gasped for air. His lips met hers with a raw intensity that sent electricity through her entire body, the kiss filled with the kind of emotion he had kept locked up for far too long.

“I love you so much, Tamika,” Jacob whispered against her lips, his voice trembling. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my damn life. I’m gonna be the man you deserve. I swear to you, baby, I’ll do whatever it takes to be the best father, the best husband.”

Tamika’s eyes, still wide with shock, softened as she heard the sincerity in his voice. Her hands came up to grip his shoulders as she felt him shaking, the weight of everything finally sinking in. She had always known how much he loved her, but hearing him say it—knowing that this moment was everything they had been working toward—made her heart swell with a love so deep she could hardly contain it.

“You’re already there, Jacob,” she whispered back, her hands sliding up to cup his face. “You’ve been there all along.”

The sound of Leilapua’s soft laughter broke through the intimate moment between them, and for a second, the world felt like it was standing still. Everyone else was still processing the reality of what had just been revealed—Tamika’s pregnancy, Leilapua’s, the fact that both men were about to become fathers for the first time—but Jacob and Tamika were in their own bubble of emotion.

The family stood in silence, watching them with knowing eyes, some wiping away happy tears, others exchanging proud smiles. The two men who had just been hit with life-changing news were still processing the magnitude of it all, but deep down, there was a sense of fulfillment, something they had both been missing for a long time.

Leilapua reached out, gently taking Sefa’s hand once more, her eyes still glistening with tears. “We’re not just starting new lives for ourselves, you know,” she said softly, her voice filled with an almost sacred reverence. “We’re creating new generations, building something more than we could’ve ever imagined.”

Sefa nodded, his hand holding hers tight as he looked around at their family. "I never thought this day would come, Pua. But here we are, together, starting something new."

Jacob, still holding Tamika close, nodded in agreement. “We’re ready for this,” he said, his voice steady now, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “We’re ready for whatever comes next. Together.”

The family gathered around, their love and joy for the new fathers-to-be radiating outward. It was a moment of pure connection, of unity. The bonds they had forged over the years—through laughter, through pain, through everything in between—had never felt stronger.

As Jacob pulled Tamika in for another kiss, his heart swelled with pride and hope for the future. He didn’t know exactly what life would throw at them next, but one thing was certain: no matter what, they would face it together.

The entire family stood frozen for a beat, taking in the magnitude of the moment.

Jey’s voice broke the silence, loud with disbelief and awe. “Yo, this is crazy. Both of you... Pregnant?”

Jimmy laughed, a bark of joy, as he pulled Marsai into a hug. “I mean, damn, we’re gonna have more Fatu babies around here than I know what to do with.”

Nadia, who had been standing by, finally broke into a huge grin, rushing over to hug Tamika. “Congratulations! This is... this is unbelievable. Our family’s growing!”

The celebration had officially begun. A chorus of laughter and cheers rose from the group as Sefa and Leilapua held each other, their eyes full of joy. Jacob, still processing the whirlwind, finally let out a loud, relieved laugh. He held Tamika close as he whispered, “We’re doing this together. You, me, our family.”

The entire Fatu family gathered in a circle, hugging, laughing, and shedding joyful tears. The air was thick with emotion, excitement, and love. They had faced so much together, and now, they were celebrating the beginnings of the next generation. And for Tamika and Leilapua—two women who had once shared dreams and sorrows—they would now share this incredible journey of motherhood, side by side.

As the day stretched on, the family settled into a celebratory feast, talking about names, future plans, and what it would be like to raise their children in a world where they had each other. It was a new chapter, one that no one had quite expected, but one that would be unforgettable all the same.

Double the blessings. Double the joy.

#jacob fatu x black oc #jacob fatu fic #x black oc #mature fic #romance

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silencesscreams · 2 years ago

Text

𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

james potter x reader

“inescapable, im not even gonna try, and if i get burned, at least we were electrified.”

a/n: maybe (just maybe) this was inspired by dress - taylor swift 🫡 also, ive had this in mind for AGES now, pls tell me about any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language!! also, i made up some characters just to have something to fit into the story pls dont mind that

warnings and tags: afab!reader, angstyish if you squint, uncomfortableness??, oh my god the tension, intimate and touchy relationship between friends, james mentions other girls blablabla, kissing, stitches, open wounds, falling, body shots, hickies, slighttt choking, oral sex (f receiving), praise, degradation???????? penetration, unprotected, v soft ending, use of y/n a couple of times, slow burn?? words words words. (god how i love james potter). james is a player !! r is in the marauders group, r is v close with lily, like two years after finishing hogwarts, marauders working together on the orderrrr

it started on your third year.

you were seated with a redhead named lily in potions, she was sweet. she was friends with boys mostly, so when you started getting close she was happy to have you as a friend.

on your first trip to hogsmeade, she came a long with you and brought four boys along with her; remus, sirius, peter and james.

james potter caught your eye as soon as you saw him for the first time, he was laughing to something sirius had said, and you swore that was the sweetest sound you had ever heard.

you bonded over the same taste in candy at honeydukes, music, books and enjoying the same sorts of jokes. not much longer, you could consider him one of your best friends.

after a while, you found out james was touchy, at least he was with you. he would play with your hands when he was bored, cracking your knuckles for you.

he’d always listen about all the gossip and talk shit on mutually hated people. lily was happy you got along, and most of her girl friends and guy friends were also your friends now, which made you incredibly happy to have found yourself in a group like that. you were happy about how a great friend james was, he was so nice to you.

well, until your sixth year. that was when james started getting girls, suddenly, over the summer, everyone started to drool over him. at first, it didn’t even bother you that much, sure, you bawled your eyes out when he skipped your usual outing in hogsmeade to go on some stupid date with some stupid girl, but it didn’t even bother you that much, did it? you dont know, but it started really to bother you at some point, sure, no one else was caring about it like you were, but maybe no one else was around him like you were. maybe no one else knew him like you did, at some points you even asked yourself if you really knew him after all those years. you even spent christmas with him once, how could you not know him? maybe you only knew what he wanted you to see. god, you hated this feeling.

around october it was really pissing you off. he barely hung out with you anymore, of course you always saw him in groups, but you liked being alone with him listening to music or doing nothing at all. james was sweet to be around. he was caring, and you liked his smell. the way his arm would always be around your shoulder.

but in november, what really pushed you over the edge, was him showing up to dinner with his neck filled with hickeys, really showing them off. he sat down next to you, as sirius and remus both eyed him, pretending they weren’t seeing shit, but they would probably joke around about it when you and the girls weren’t around. and that was it for you. you got up, got your books and left, you couldn’t stand to do this on that day. not when your clothes didn’t sit right, not when you didn’t feel clean, not when your hair was not staying how you wanted it to stay. not when you figured out you might be in love with your best friend.

“where you going?” james asked as soon as you got up, you ignored him and just started walking. your eyes just might’ve started to water and god you needed to go somewhere you could be alone.

so you found yourself in the library, sat next to the window, thinking about how you were going to explain storming off like that to your friends, and worst, to james. all of it was so fucking stressing.

“hey.” you heard someone whisper, and so you quickly dry your cheeks with your sleeves, turning around to face james.

“hi.” you whisper back, he signals to the chair next to you, asking if its taken. you shake your head in response, he smiles and sits down.

“what’s going on?” he asks, staring at you with his brows furrowed.

“don’t worry about it, you can leave. i know you have a date with that ravenclaw girl, i’m just upset. its nothing.”

“you really think i care about her?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “you’ve been quite upset these days, haven’t you?”

“yeah, i guess, don’t worry, really. you should go and have your fun.” you reply, smiling empathetically.

“i dont wanna go.” he answers quickly, he looks around, trying to find something to say. and then he sees your redish eyes.

“oh y/n, com’ere” he gets up, opening his arms, you roll your eyes playfully, getting up and hugging him. you dont know why but his hugs always made you feel better. it was like he took all of the sadness from you and just threw it out. he was wearing a new perfume. he smelled like 2 in one shampoo and lavender soap.

“you can go to your date, i’m fine. i swear.” you say, still hugging him.

“i dont wanna go. i wanna be here with you, that okay? plus, i need to catch up on history of magic.” he said, sweetly kissing the stop of your head, and afterwards, pressing his chin on top of it. and you didnt know if it was the moment or something else, but that was when you knew.

when you were sure of it all. when you needed to tell someone else or you’d explode.

“lily, i need to tell you something but you need to promise me this stays just between us. really.” you whisper as she takes a sip of her butterbeer.

“what’d you do?”

“i didn’t do shit. listen, don’t judge me, alright?” you reply, frustrated. she nods a yes. “i think i might be very into james and i have no idea how to deal with it.” you blurt out, staring at your own cup, too nervous to look at her.

“oh, i already knew that.” she answers.

“no you didn’t!” you whisper-shout at her

“i mean, it was a very firm theory. i just know you and the way you get silly around him and his dates sort of made me sure of it.” she smiles.

“god. im so stupid” you whisper, facepalming yourself.

“no you’re not. you should see the way he looks at you.” she says, grinning at how red your face is.

“lily, he’s had like, 20 girlfriends this past year, he’s not into me.” you answer, rolling you eyes.

“alright then.” she said, irony taking over her voice.

“im serious!” you reply, and she nods, still ironically.

for the rest of his 6th year, james didnt have any girlfriends. and on his 7th he had a few flings, but so did you.

“i just don’t get why you’re going out with this asshole!” james said while you walked with him to transfiguration class.

“he’s not like that, james, just give him a chance.” you smile at his horrified look to your comment.

“corrigan almost made me fall off my broom once, he actually is like that, sorry sweetheart.” he emphasized the part where he says corrigan is like that.

“james, we’re not getting married, its just a date.”

“a fourth date.”

“come on, he’s fun.”

“y/n, if you wanted fun you should be dating me.” you roll your eyes at that. “where’s he even taking you anyway?”

“madam puddifoot’s, i think” you answer, knowing exactly what was about to go on.

“oh, in his dreams. he’s gonna try to bang you i just know it.”

“at a tea shop?” you laugh.

“oh please, don’t tell me you’ll let that asshole suck your face.”

“i dont talk about who sucks YOUR face. because just let me add that this gale girl you’re going out with will probably give you a disease.” james laughs at that. “im serious! shes sick all the time, every time i see her shes coughing and sniffing and all of that.”

“that reminds me i gotta break up with her.” he sighs.

“nooo, why? i thought things were going well”

“nah, we’re just not good together.”

“maybe because every time you went out with her you used it as an excuse to spy on me and corrigan.”

“just trying to protect my closest friend. thats all” he smiles, winking at you and you swear you can melt into a puddle right there.

“shut up, you’re just doing this because you hate him.”

“im serious, darling. he IS an asshole.”

“i guess i’ll just have to figure it out myself.” you wink back at him.

“oh would you just look at that.” james whispered, looking through the window at mrs. puddifoots door.

he could ser how corrigans face was close to yours and how suddenly he kissed you, one hand on your upper thigh and the other on the back of your neck.

“is that jealousy im sensing, prongs?” sirius laughed.

“n-no! its just disgusting, he’s a prick” james was suddenly defensive.

“y/n/n seems to like him though” remus commented.

“shut up.” james said, still watching how corrigan was gripping onto you. ‘god, i hate him so much’ he thought to himself.

and that went on until you and corrigan broke up. he did end up making james fall off his broom, he had to get 20 stitches, and you cried about it. as soon as james hit the grass you were in the field, it wasn’t even a real match, just practice. you took him to the infirmary, you even held his hand.

“its just a few stitches, don’t worry about it.” he said, as the nurse started to clean the wound.

“20 is definitely not a few, just let me stay here.”

“she’s right” the nurse added, she rubbed alcohol onto the cut and james hissed.

“told you he was an asshole, hun”

“watch your mouth, mr potter” she added as he groaned again.

after you were finished with school, most of your friends went to work at the order of the phoenix, you had a part time job as a baratender but also participated in the order. james had been trying to convince you to quit the job, specially because your ex was the manager (even though he wouldn’t admit it).

“james!” you shouted, laying down at the couch in the orders house.

“what?!” he screamed back from the kitchen, he was making those god awful scrambled eggs you said you loved because he made them with such care you were sorry for his cooking skills.

“you’re taking anyone to sirius’s birthday tonight?” you ask, hoping to god he’d say no.

“no, mia and i broke up last month, remember?”

“of course i remember!” you were all smiley about it, you could squeal if he wasn’t there. even if it was silly, you were anxious to ask lily to come over and she’d help you pick out your outfit.

you both ended up deciding on a black dress she was willing to lend you. being so excited for something as casual as a friends birthday, was a bit stupid of you, that you could admit. but you couldn’t take your mind off of james now, sure it had been that way for like four years now, but he still was your best friend and you couldn’t do much about it. what was even worse was that his hugs, his voice, his smell, was all so addictive to you. and you tried, you really did, you just couldn’t.

when you got to the party at the order, you were a like two hours late, you got held back because of work and you still needed to get ready, but you somehow made it before they sung happy birthday. you wished sirius a happy birthday, giving him his gift and a tight hug. even though you weren’t close, he was still one of the most present people in your life, and you loved that about him, and so before you could even ask, he said:

“james is in the bathroom right now, but believe me, he’s been waiting for you all night though.” you smiled.

“thank you sirius, but i have other friends took, you know?” you said.

“he’ll love the dress” he whispered, and started walking away, you knew why. him and lily have been trying to get you and james together for ages now, and so you knew that when he just walked away like that, james was coming near, probably to talk to you.

“hey” you heard, and so you turned around to face him, and honestly, he looked great. he was wearing those jeans you liked and a shirt you complimented once.

“hi” you looked at him, smiling.

“you look amazing” he said, you felt your blood rush.

“thank you, i really like that shirt.” you felt the need to say something back.

“really?” he was just teasing you at this point.

“really.” and you liked to tease him back.

“y/n! finally, come on, we’re taking body shots” said lily, pulling you with her, and james came along.

everyone was there, laughing having fun. it was all super sweet, like you were in school again.

well, that was until sirius decided he’d make you regret you were ever born.

“PRONGS!” he shouted, as james was staring at him from a safe distance “COME ON LETS JOIN THE GAME, ITS YOUR TURN!”

“i’m not so sure about that, i feel like its sort of y/n’s turn, right?” james smirked to you, you glared at him. god, you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or kill him.

“ah james, you know how they say, gentlemen’s first? i believe that’s the phrase” you found yourself very idiotic in that place.

“i’m not drinking tonight though” james winked, you were trying to get yourself out of the situation, though it only seemed to get worse.

“perfect way to solve it, hear me out, y/n takes one off of james, problem solved!” sirius didn’t seem to have any common sense when he was drunk.

“good idea sirius!” said lily loudly through the music, and so you glared at her. this was definitely going to be the lowest point of your year, being sure james would say no, you looked over to him and he just decided to say

“fine by me” and just like that the shirt you liked too much was thrown on the counter.

“oh, uhm, okay then” you felt hot and red and you were sure that was exactly how you looked and it did not feel good. you were hoping the lighting would mask i, until james said “no need to be nervous, princess” and somehow that made you even more nervous.

“you know how this works right? lick, shoot, suck?” james asked, and so you nodded a yes, staring at the ceiling. he slipped a lime wedge into his mouth, and so you begging for this torture to end because you already felt so wet it was scary.

his tongue fell upon the rind, and so he could taste the citric flavor as you sprinkled salt onto his skin, from his navel to his waistband. he felt himself blush but decided to just ignore it and try to focus on something else.

and so it begins, you didn’t know it, but maybe james was more nervous about that than you. he was begging to the universe, spirits, everything he could, to not get hard on that moment you leaned over him, your warm tongue sticking out and licking a stripe up the salt. he tried his best to suppress a groan, you smiled, nervously, as you took the shot from his stomach, he could hear sirius saying something loudly, lily screaming and remus’s laugh. and he just saw you.

leaning towards his face, you looked at him with your ‘i’m so sorry oh my god’ look, your lips falling and plucking the lime from his mouth, but when you were going to pull back, your lips touched around the wedge and you felt your whole body ignite as your lips brushed against his.

but as quick as you tasted him, as quick it was gone.

james quickly got up and fixed himself, putting his shirt back on.

“good job” he didnt know what else to say and just high-fived you. you smile confused.

“thanks i guess” you say, as lily pulls you to the side to discuss what happened right in front of her and wasnt just actually one of your dreams.

around three hours later the party ended, and james did actually drink, once most people were hone and you were headed to the guest room you felt a hand pulling you by your dress, holding on to the silky fabric. turning around you found yourself very up close to james potter.

“hi” you whispered.

“hi” he said lowly.

“is everything okay?” you asked, his breath smelling like mint and lemons.

“yeah” he answered, still staring “can i crash with you? ‘dont wanna go home” you nodded a yes, and suddenly his hand was on the back of your neck.

“i’m about to do something so stupid.” he whispered.

“so am i.” you answered, your eyes not really knowing where to focus, his eyes, his lips, his neck, his mouth.

“good.” he nodded, and suddenly his lips were brushing over yours, your eyes started to close and then there it was.

your lips met, softly completing one another, which involved a pulling back and crashing. his lips strong against yours, and then his tongue was brushing over your lips, and so you opened your mouth and god, you dont know for how long you waited. his hands now roaming your body, you felt the heat of his body, and he pulls back.

“youre so fucking pretty” he blurted out, going back to the kiss. his hands now on your lower back, you pull him towards the guest room.

and then you were both sat on the bed, your heels off and his shoes too. your lips still attached, more and more eager by the second, and now his lips were on your neck, teasing you, as his right grabbed onto your upper thigh and your dress was riding up.

he pulled away to take off his shirt, you just stared at him, having no idea what to say next.

“hey” he was so close.

“hi”

“you wanna do this? because if you don’t that’s fine by me, really, we can just forget it and pretend we were both really drunk” he started trailing off.

“no. i want you, really, i do” you were trying not to look at him because that would make you even more nervous. just like that, his lips were back on yours, his hand on your waist, laying you down on the bed, your head on the pillow as he unzipped your dress, he was back to working on your neck, pressing kisses and nipping at it as he started to pull down your dress, his knee right between your legs, he was so so close to where you needed him.

you felt his cold hand reach for your breast, his lips trailing down to your chest, starting to suck on one nipple as his hand stimulated the other. you couldn’t help but just run your hands through his hair as you let moans escape through your mouth.

“james” you whined, as he left a trail of kissed from you chest to your inner thighs.

“yeah princess?” he looked up at you with doe eyes, right between your parted legs.

“please” you whispered.

“i cant hear you, what’s that?” he teased.

“please, i need you.” he smirked at that, pressing a kiss to the damp spot on your lace panties, your body now electrified because of the gesture.

“can i take these off?”he asked, his thumb playing with the fabric as you nod, he smiles as he pulls them down your legs. he’s using his hands to part your thighs. you can feel his breathing over your clit, he watches you as he places his thumb pad over your clit, rubbing it in slow circles and you let out a moan. his arm coming up, resting across your stomach.

embarrassment quickly turns into pleasure as he starts to kitten lick your clit.

his lips now attached as you threaded your hands into his hai, tugging and making james grunt. he’s slipping in a finger and you start to whimper.

“that feels good?” he asks, pulling his mouth off of you, you nod.

“yes, please…" he’s smiling lightly at that.

“what is it, huh? can you take another? is that it?” he teasingly asks, you whisper a yes. he watched his fingers as they slipped into you, he lets out a low groan. his fingers moving quicker as the feeling in your abdomen got stronger. his lips attach again to you clit and you whimper at the feeling. he’s flicking his tongue and his fingers are hitting the perfect spot.

“james”you whisper, he looks up at you, his fingers still going at it. “i need you now, i’m serious.”you blurt out, his fingers leave you, making you feel empty, his thumb rubs your clit as he goes up to kiss you, you’re able to taste yourself on his mouth. you moan into the kiss as he rubs you clit. his hands leave you, he starts to take off his pants, your heart races as he unbuckles his belt.

he reaches up to pin your knees up to your chest, you can feel the bulge on his underwear as he goes up to kiss you harshly. god, he did feel big.

“you sure about it?”he asks one more time.

“yes”you quickly answer.

“good girl.” you feel your soul leave your body because of the praise. he takes a moment to palm himself through the boxers,

“fuck, need you so bad” he whispers. you moan as his pulls himself out of his boxers, his erection hitting up against his stomach. he runs his hand up and down the shaft, you can feel his tip up against you.

“shit”you whisper,

“gonna be a good girl?” he’s lining himself up against you.

“yes, please, i will” you quickly answer, giving in because of how needy you were. he presses himself closer to you, stretching you around him.

“of course you are.”he says lowly, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”he says, and you nod. he pushes himself into you just in one stroke, the sudden stretch makes you moan breathlessly. he groans into the crook of your neck, biting down on a soft spot. “still so tight. you feel so good, princess” he praises, and wastes no time and starts to move, shallowly rolling his hips up to you. he kisses your neck as you moan.

“oh my god”you whimper. he’s thrusting harder now, starting to pick up a pace. you moan as he trusts forward, filling you up so well. you were starting to adjust to his size. your hands were back on his hair, holding on to it for dear life.

"fuck, james, harder please." he cocks an eyebrow, then pulls out to the tip, you whine at the loss,

"you asked for it, alright?” he thrusts forward roughly, filling you up with his cock, you feel him even deeper this time, the press of him against your walls making you whine louder as he thrusted even harder,

"can you take this, hun?" he fucks into you rapidly, mocking you, pushing you against the headboard, "you said you wanted it harder, didnt you?" your cheeks start to burn up. “you feel so fucking good” he groaned, the heat in your stomach building up again. you were blabbing incoherent phrases, all similar to ‘fuck please’ and ‘holy shit, oh my god james’. he’s filling you up perfectly and your walls start to tighten against him.

the sound of the slap of skin fills up the room, the base of him stimulating your clit along with his thumb, his right hand reaches up to your neck, squeezing lightly. he can tell youre close, the way your hips started to buck up, grinding needily. you yelp as he throws your legs over his shoulders, fucking you even deeper and hitting your g-spot.

“need it so bad, please” you whimper and he hums at that.

“need what?” he’s back to teasing again.

“i need to cum, please.”he’s fucking into you faster and harder than before. you clamped around him desperately, your high building up. he felt it, his hand pinching your clit as you moan in pleasure. his thrusts only getting harsher along with your whining. you just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“you can cum princess, don’t worry” his thumb rolls on your clit faster, just like his thrusts. you came with a cry of his name, walls clenched around him as you gripped the back of his neck. seeing you, head thrown back in ecstasy, in pleasure as you cry out his name has him groaning, head dropped into the crook of your neck as his thrusts get faster and sharper, the overstimulation of it drawing out high keening noises from your throat, his cock nudging against your cervix as he spills inside of you.

"fuck, so good for me, princess," he kisses your shoulder, "such a good girl," he murmurs.

he pulls out slowly, putting himself back in his boxers, and lays you down when you mumble that you're too sore to sit up. he grins at that and you shove him, "what-? i'm just proud of myself that's all."

“you’re an idiot, you know that, right?” you tease him.

“you have no idea. i’ve loved you since i was seventeen.” he smiles, a bit nervous with his confession. and you pull him into a kiss.

“i’ve been in love with you since the first time i saw you” you whisper, and he lays down next to you, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

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