#i think ill continue to put the chapters up here

[fireheartpages]

time of my life | b.d.

masterlist

notes: my brain does things on its own sometimes and i don’t know when to shut the fuck up most of the time, and i have not been able to stop thinking about this little work i made. so although i said it would only be five parts, ive officially made a multi-part, multi-chapter fic because i don’t know when to stop! the series name and every part name is taken from a song off of the dirty dancing soundtrack.

part one & two cover fourth wing, part three & four cover iron flame. tried to keep them all even in length, or as close to it as i could. each part can be read as a stand alone series, but i do recommend reading all in chronological order!

warnings: warnings will be listed at the top of every chapter in the notes. here’s a compiled list of warnings for the whole series as an over view: feminine reader using she/her pronouns, she also has a nickname (dirty dancing inspired stolen) and a last name for continuity purposes, canon-typical violence, mentions of death, allusions to suicide, character death, reader has psoriasis (if rebecca yarros can put her chronic illness in her story so can i), severe daddy issues leading to issues with self worth. i make up a lot of stuff about the empyrean universe as well and do my best writing while tipsy so

part one: say you’ll be my darlin’?

other plans

terrible idea

enough

free falling

survived

part two: big girls don’t cry

never planned on

interlude

part three: the magic between you and i

part four: she’s taken my heart

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 41

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: All That Glistens Is Not Gold

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  41/47

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One moment you were in a room with Pym, and now you found yourself alone and laying down in a bed in one of the bedrooms of the castle. It was enough to frighten anyone and cause panic, it truly felt like no time had passed.

“Pym?!?” You sat up in the bed and felt dizzy and nauseous right away, you had to lay back down again.

The door opened and Merlin stepped inside, a sigh of relief escaping him upon seeing you conscious again. “Pym is having supper.” He walked to your side. “Fear not, I do not believe that you fainted from the fall.”

You found comfort in how calm he sounded. “Then what happened to me?”

He picked up a plate with a sliced pear on it, offering you a piece. “When did you last eat, and what was it?”

You had to think for a moment. “I had some bread this morning. I wasn’t really hungry.”

“I fear your body disagrees with you on that matter.” He held the piece of pear right under your nose. “Something sweet will help you feel better. Go on.”

It was a bit uncomfortable to eat while laying down, but Merlin stood by to make certain you didn’t accidentally choke on it. “I fainted because I didn’t eat enough?”

He gave a slow nod. “Indeed. With everything going on, it is common for hunger to go unnoticed until it makes us ill.”

“Is my head alright?… "

“I have had centuries to learn all there is to know of healing, whether it be from a curse or sickness, you have my word that you will be well.” He took a vial with a strange looking liquid from his satchel. “But just to be certain, drink this.”

The whispers of the Hidden were in your ears at the sight of the vial. “That contains magic.”

He was surprised to hear that you could tell. “Did the Hidden let it be known?”

Your brow furrowed. “Yes. And I can smell it from here, it doesn’t smell normal.”

He put the vial in your hand, looking at you curiously. “It will not taste well either, but this bottled magical concoction will help with any pain your head causes you.”

You eyed the vial. “It’s not poison, is it?”

Merlin was amused by it. “Poisoning one of the last to carry the Fey Fire in their blood would be foolish. If only you knew how I risked my life to have just a small jar of it.”

You sensed he was truthful and drank the vial, he had been truthful about the taste of it too. “Thank you, Merlin. Not just for helping me, but for helping all of us.”

A gentle smile appeared on his face. “You are very welcome. I have stood aside in this battle between Manblood and Fey for far too long, it took me losing my daughter to see how wrong of me it was. I will continue the fight she could not.”

“A noble choice.” you told him.

He disagreed on that, “It would have been noble if I had made that choice before losing her.”

You could see that guilt was eating at him. “No one is free of mistakes, Merlin, it is how we handle them that is important.”

He fell quiet for a moment, seeming to ponder on that thought. “I will go and tell Pym that you are awake. The poor girl was quite shaken after she saw you faint.”

Poor Pym… “Tell her that I’m alright and that she hasn’t done anything wrong.”

He gave a nod, opening the door and finding Gawain standing outside ready to knock. Gawain greeted Merlin and stepped into the room, closing the door behind Merlin. Gawain came right to your side to help you sit up a little and adjusted the pillow behind your back for support.

“You had us worried.” He said, putting the plate with sliced pear into your lap. “How are you feeling?”

It was easier to sit up now, the small bite of pear was starting to help. “My head still doesn’t feel good, but Merlin gave me some medicine for that. Don’t worry, Gawain, I’ll live.”

He pointed in a scolding manner. “You’d better.” Upon seeing you frown he explained, “The Ash Man threatened to fight the Hidden if you did not wake again.”

You tried to be serious about it, failed and chuckled instead. “How does he plan on doing that?”

He sounded confident on the matter, “He may just be mad enough to find a way.”

True. “Tell him to behave. He will listen to you.”

“I have.” he assured. “And once Merlin told us you would be alright after some rest and a meal, I gave Lancelot some tasks to focus on to keep him calm. That man is a bottled storm.”

You took another piece of pear to eat. “Best to keep him busy. Or that storm unleashes.”

Gawain headed to the door again. “I will have someone bring you a meal to eat. Soup was made.”

Poor, poor Pym. She would not have been happy with that. “Thank you, Gawain. Do tell Lancelot, and Percival, that I am alright.”

He opened the door to step out. Just then Percival darted past Gawain and into the room right towards you, in his hands was your satchel.

“Tell him yourself.” Gawain chuckled.

The knight left you to handle the boy alone, who promptly went to stand by the side of the bed. Percival put the satchel down beside the bed.

You noticed him glance down at the slices of pear. “Do you want some pear?”

It looked like he wanted to say ‘yes’ but he stopped himself. “No. You should eat, or you’ll faint again.”

He had sounded so worried… and it was adorable how he tried to look like he was not worried at all.

“Come sit with me.” You patted the spot beside you. “I’d love some company.”

The boy took the offer right away and plopped down on the edge of the bed. “Merlin said you’d be alright. You will be alright… won’t you?”

The loss of his friend had scarred the child’s heart. Too many goodbyes, too many loses.

You hoped to put his mind at ease. “I will be back on my feet in no time. Don’t you worry about me, Percival. I’m stronger than I might appear.”

He pressed his lips shut, as if he hoped not to say what he did, “I hope so.”

Wait… was that in response to you being back on your feet again soon or…

The cheeky grin that appeared on his face gave you that answer.

You snatched hold of his arm, pulling him into you, ruffling that wild hair. “You little rascal!”

“I’m not little!” He tried to squirm free, a joyful laugh escaping him.

Finally you let him go. “Still a rascal!”

Percival was still chuckling and a little out of breath from the playful attack on him. “And you’re a minx.”

You barely held in the gasp, it was stated like it was a fact to him. “Where did you learn such a word?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Lancelot once said it really quietly when you were walking away and he thought no one could hear.”

“He said that, huh?” That sneaky twit…

The boy nodded, ratting out the Ash Man. “What does it mean though? He wouldn’t answer when I asked.”

Speak of the devil, the door was opened quickly and there stood your worried husband. A quiet sigh of relief fell upon seeing you conscious again.

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Ah, there you are. Just in time. Percival was just asking me what the word ‘minx’ means. Does that sound familiar to you?”

His relief turned into confusion, then concern and ultimately guilt. Like a child caught in a crime. “Percival, why don’t you go and see if the Green Knight needs your help?”

“But-”

“Now.”

The boy grumbled whilst getting up from the bed and glared at the Ash Man until he was out the door, leaving the door wide open behind him. Lancelot sighed, closing the door.

Your brow arched. “Well?”

He shuffled a little where he stood. “I may have referred to you as such. It was not my intention to have the boy overhear it.”

Of course it wasn’t. “Uhu.”

Whenever he felt out of his comfort, he would fold his hands behind his back and try to appear taller than he already was. It was so easy to tell he feared being reprimanded over it.

He came to stand beside the bed, his tone half-serious, “Must you insist on trying to make me a widower today?”

“I’m trying not to.” you jested.

It did not make him smile, and that was how you knew he was still shaken from it. A slight frown set on his face as he looked at the floor, as if he wanted to hide how shaken he was. “Your markings have gone back into hiding I see.”

“Have they?” you hoped the question would make him look at you again.

He simply nodded, then took in a deep breath, tilting his chin up to the ceiling for a brief moment. “Are you certain you wish to stay here?”

Your smile fell. “What?”

His eyes locked on yours, searching for the answer. “Had the gods not opened that door, you would not have fallen and you would not be here like this now-”

You stopped him right there. “Lancelot, I fainted because I haven’t eaten well today.”

He said what he needed to say, “If you feel unsafe, we will leave.”

You sat up more. “The fall was an accident, I can feel it. And the fainting was my fault. I don’t feel unsafe here.”

He was quiet for a moment, then picked up the satchel from the floor and took out the journals to hand them to you. “Forgive me for showing caution. I may never put my trust into any deity again.”

Once a monk, a loyal servant of the god the paladins prayed to, but he would never be so blinded by faith again.

And you were happy he was able to listen to the voice of reason inside of him. “I understand that.” You reached out and gave his arm a squeeze. “Gawain said he gave you some tasks to keep you distracted. What have you been doing whilst I was here?”

He summed some of it up, “Taking inventory of what we have and what we need. Near half of the bed linen in the castle is too worn down to use. Much needs to be washed, some is good to use. We will have a lot of work to restore this place to it’s former glory, I fear. There are broken windows that will need to be repaired, the stables need to be tended to…”

There was so much to be done. Some parts of the castle needed to be stabilized. Doors needed to be repaired or replaced. And the whole place was covered in a layer of dust that would take time to clean away. But underneath all the flaws was a glimpse of the beauty the castle had once held, and deep down he knew he could restore it. This could be home, as it once had been to the Fey.

It was clear he was a bit overwhelmed by it all, the work, your health, that fear of failing the Fey. “We’re not alone in this, Lancelot. We can do this.”

His eyes softened at the sheer determination in you. He sat down on the edge of the bed, curling a finger under your chin to let his intention be known when he leaned in. The opportunity of a kiss was stolen away when Percival barged into the room with a bowl of soup. Lancelot was quick to sit up straight again, cursing internally.

The sweet child came to personally hand you the soup. “Careful! It’s warm.”

You gave Percival your sweetest smile. “Thank you, young knight.”

Percival beamed with pride over to mention of his title and fulfilling the task the Green Knight had given him. He turned to Lancelot. “The Green Knight said he still needs our help.”

Lancelot tried to hide his reaction over having to leave your side again while you were still recovering. He stood up from the bed, glancing at you to see you nod in understanding. Duty called, and this time the work was to better life for the Fey. There would undoubtedly be busy days ahead, days where you’d work hard and to be able to do that you needed to rest and get your strength up again. And that is what you did once they left the room.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Later, in the midst of the night, the dipping of the mattress pulled you out of your slumber. Your vision was still a blur from sleep when you made a disapproving noise and lifted your head off of the pillow a little. The scent of him reached your nostrils with ease from how close he was.

“Lancelot?” you mumbled still half-asleep.

He hushed you, kissing your cheek whilst putting an arm around your waist. You could feel him lay down behind you.

He sounded very tired, “Will you let me rest here?”

You took hold of his hand and brought it up to hold it to your chest, scooting back a little to be closer than he’d probably thought he was allowed to be.

He hummed content. “Trying to push me out of the bed, are you?”

You matched the jest with your own, “You’re the one who crawled in and took up my space.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“No.”

That earned you a lingering kiss to your cheek. He held on tight, as if he thought you’d fly off into the night. “Are you feeling better?”

You let him rest his face in the crook of your neck. “I am. And you? You sound exhausted.”

He did not deny that it was true. “It has been an eventful day and I am glad it has ended.”

That did not sound very good. He must have tired himself out. Creating Fey Fire, the journey here, the visions and then the work this castle needed on top of that.

You curved into him more, a little playful. “Tomorrow I believe I will be back on my feet and able to help. And I’m going to make sure that you don’t overwork yourself, because I know you have a tendency to do so.”

His hand flew to your hip upon feeling the playful push of your behind into him. “I will not let you help unless you are truly better.”

“You won’t ‘let’ me?” You snorted a little arrogantly. “I will decide that for myself, thank you.”

If he thought you wouldn’t do exactly that, he was in for a shock. His protectiveness was sweet, but it was not going to stop you from helping tomorrow.

He dared it. He dared to jest, “Sometimes I miss the days when I could just put some rope on you.”

You sat upright instantly, grabbed your pillow and smacked it against his side. “Out.” Again. “Out of the bed!”

He shielded himself from another hit of the pillow with his arm. Even in the darkened room his smirk was visible. “You do not mean that.”

You were more baffled by the audacity than you were angry. “Did you truly just jest about how you once kept me tied up?!”

He took hold on the pillow too. “I was merely jesting.”

It made you roll your eyes and snatch the pillow from his hands. You scooted away from him, creating a distance, and laid down nearly at the last bit of space on the edge of the bed.

He disapproved of the spot you had chosen. “You will fall off if you sleep there.”

You closed your eyes, mumbling under your breath, “Perhaps I’d rather be on the floor.”

He did not know why seeing you get feisty made his blood run faster. It simply excited him, feeding a natural instinct in him to be the one that could weather the storm you cast down upon him.

He got closer again, gliding his hand over your shoulder and arm. Laying himself back down again just like before, only now he was vying for attention. Quietly he inhaled your scent and made a content sound. “I prefer you to be on the bed with me, where I can have you close.”

When you ignored him, he simply grew more motivated to get your attention. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, brushed the tips of his fingers over your arm. He knew what he was doing when he lowered his voice to a husk. “I know you are not angry. You would not let me do this if you were…”

You struggled to keep still when he proceeded to kiss your neck. “If you come near me with a rope again, I’ll strangle you with it.”

He chuckled and kissed your neck again, then the side of your head. “As is your right.” A squeeze of his hand on your waist made you ticklish and he did it again upon noticing it. “I do enjoy your fighting spirit. It excites me.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “Is that why you decided to wake me up and annoy me?”

A cheeky grin was plastered on his face. “It was not planned. But I do not mind this result.”

“You miss the excitement from battle and decide to cause it in the bedroom. I am not surprised.” you blurted out matter-of-factually.

“Well…” He clicked his tongue. “An angry wife is a formidable opponent .”

You pecked his cheek. “And don’t you forget that. Now sleep, you are looking pale.”

“No.” His brow arched.

“Why not?” you sighed.

“First this.” He tilted his head, locking his lips to yours briefly. “Goodnight, my love.”

It was all it needed to cause the fluttering in your stomach to overwhelm you. “Sleep well, Lancelot.”

With one last kiss to your forehead he laid down to rest behind you, holding you close. It was quiet for some time, his breathing was getting deeper and slower.

“You feel so very warm…” He was close to sleep.

You held on to his hand as you fell asleep. Grateful for the chance to sleep in a proper bed again.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  The next day, when you presented yourself ready to help, Gawain was relieved. The task you were given was simple. To go to the village and purchase the linen and wares that were needed. How you were to carry all that? Well, Lancelot and Arthur were send along. Gawain did agree with purchasing a wagon and horse to make it easier to transport everything. The journey to the village was… interesting to say the least. One moment the Manblood and Ash Man got along perfectly fine, the next they were rolling their eyes and annoying each other.

You were almost at the village when your patience ran out and you all but shouted at them as they rode a little ahead of you. “Good gods! Can you two just shut up if all you say is meant to bother the other?!? I have no interest in having to delay our task just to prevent the two of you from trying to kill each other!”

Arthur and Lancelot fell quiet immediately, like a pair of scolded children feeling the eyes of their parent burn into their backs. That silence did not last long.

“I wouldn’t be the one who first draws a weapon.” Arthur knew exactly what would rile Lancelot up.

Lancelot scoffed loudly. “Is that not what you did when we met again in Gramaire?”

“I had every right to have a sword at your throat. You tried to kill me the first time we met.” Arthur said.

He muttered under his breath, “How many times will you bring that up again…”

“Forever if I can.” Arthur deadpanned.

“Enough!” you barked the order.

Another silence fell. This time a shorter one.

“Gawain trusts me to complete this task without problems.” Arthur looked at Lancelot.

He arched a brow back at him. “Gawain ‘trusts’ you?”

Arthur tried not to let it get to him. “I’ve know Gawain longer than you.”

He did not hold back. “And still he has yet to show you the amount of trust that he shows me.”

“It is because you’re Fey. If you were Manblood he would have murdered you.” Arthur said casually.

He fired the jab to Arthur’s pride, “Or perhaps he knows I will not let my ego cloud my judgment.”

You did not warn them again, sick of hearing the continuous attempts to irritate each other. It was like listening to bickering children and to avoid having to hear it for the last bit of the way, you spurred Bear on and rode past them to get ahead. Their bickering continued a little quieter and by the time you reached the village it had changed into normal banter again. The horses were left under the care of a stablehand of the stables next to an inn, you paid him and promised extra when you’d return.

Arthur came towards you, gesturing at you a little awkwardly. “I’ve noticed you are wearing a different bodice today. It suits you well.”

It made you look down at it as well. It was one of the clothes you had salvaged from your old room in Ravenwick. “Thank you. I’ve had it for a while but wasn’t sure if it would look good on me.”

“It does.” He was glad the compliment was received well.

The one who did not receive the compliment well was the Ash Man who approached a moment later, his eyes said it all.

And as if to toss oil onto a flame, Arthur smirked at him. “Have you noticed how lovely she looks today.”

Lancelot knew it was meant to provoke him. “I have.”

You looked between them, sighing. “Let’s go and see if we can buy a wagon and horse from the one who owns these stables.”

You went over to the stablehand again and asked him where the owner could be found. The owner was in the inn, having his midday ale. And when you entered the inn, others were having their midday ale as well it seemed. With the description of the stablehand you found the owner sitting at a table with others and you introduced yourself first.

His nose had turned red from the ale he had drank. “What can I help you with, lass?”

Straight to the point it was. “We are looking to buy a wagon with a horse from you.”

“That’s a costly matter, lass. How do you want to pay for that?” The old man put a hand on your behind.

Arthur was quick to notice the movement from Lancelot and he planted a hand on his chest to stop him. The rest of the table laughed it off.

By remaining calm, you hoped to settle the deal without any hiccups. You took the hand off of your rear, feigning your best smile. “With coin, of course. How much will it be?”

“Two coins of gold!” He said it loud, half-jesting because he didn’t think you could ever afford it. “One for the wagon. One for the horse. They are worth the price.”

You reached into your satchel and put down his asking price. “I believe this is correct, is it not?”

The whole table stared down at the gold, having quieted down abruptly, the man scratched his beard.

The man took the coins and quickly put them in his pocket. “Uh… it’s the white spotted horse… I’ll show it… come.”

Lancelot and Arthur stepped aside, letting the man pass so he could show you your purchase. The wagon was not in the most perfect shape, but you counted yourself lucky that you were able to buy a wagon at all. The horse was a strong stallion who had experience with pulling the wagon.

The man turned to Lancelot whilst you and Arthur inspected the wagon. “I have more horses for sale, if you are interested?”

“No.” He was short, barely even acknowledging the man.

Arthur looked at Lancelot a little worried, knowing that he was still fuming internally about what had happened earlier. “Lancelot, what do you think of the wagon?”

He came to stand beside you. “It will do for now.”

You whispered to him, “You alright?”

“I am calm.” he said, more as a reminder to himself to stay so.

The tension in his jaw and the way he tilted his chin up just a tiny bit gave him away. He had hated to see the man touch you. At least he stayed in control over that anger now and it was oddly attractive.

First you looked to see if neither Arthur or the man were close enough to overhear, then whispered. “Don’t be jealous. You can touch my rear too later.”

His eyes snapped to you and upon seeing the wicked smile on your lips the tension in his features vanished. He looked so innocently flustered. A nervous smile settled on his face. A quiet scolding, “Don’t do that. Not here.”

You lightly bumped into him on purpose with your side. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just acting like a minx right now, aren’t I?”

The smile turned into a smirk, entertained by the throwback to the previous evening. He turned to you, leaning in to whisper right back, “Yes, you are.”

Arthur cleared his throat loudly, noticing the close proximity the two of you were in. “So we agree on this sale then?”

Lancelot gave a nod. Arthur proceeded to chat with the man a bit more and thanked him for a well-struck deal. The man returned to the inn to spend some of that earned coin again.

Arthur hopped onto the wagon, taking the reins. “There’s a merchant up ahead, in that building there, that sells what we’ll need. Are you walking or…?”

It was only a few houses away, you could manage. “We’ll walk.”

        There was so much to buy for the Fey, for the castle… And this merchant sold clothes and fabrics. It had to be one of the best days of that woman’s life when you nearly bought her complete inventory of wares. The fabrics could be used for so many purposes, and one could easily make bed linen, bandages and curtains from them. The clothes felt surreal to buy. You thought of all the Feys who’s homes and belongings had been lost to the war. All the children wearing clothes that were either worn down severely, or too big or small, would find joy in having some good clothing to wear again. Everyone helped folding the wares and loading them onto the wagon.

Lancelot had seen Arthur struggle to fold a pair of trousers and had not commented on it, showing that there was improvement happening between them. While loading up the wagon, you put a stack of clothes aside for Percival, hoping the boy would like them.

Soon the wagon was filled with new hope and wares, and you had retrieved the horses. Lancelot had tied the reins of Arthur’s horse to Goliath’s, as Arthur rode the wagon back to the fort. Arthur struggled in silence to steer the wagon, zigzagging from time to time.

Lancelot had noticed the struggle. “Perhaps I should-”

Arthur had felt it coming. “No. No, I can steer this wagon. It’s fine.”

The Ash Man send you a look, you tried not to laugh when the wagon swayed overly to the left again.

Arthur suddenly began to slow the wagon down, eyes set on the forest surrounding him. “Lancelot.”

One look was all Lancelot needed to know that something was wrong. He rode up to Arthur. “What is it?”

Arthur kept his voice low. “I think we are being followed.”

He did not show how alarming it was. “Keep going as you are. Stay calm. I will go and inspect it.”

From the corner of your eyes you had seen something move, there was a split second where you thought it was a bird. But then Bear reared up in fright of the burning arrow that had landed right in front of his legs. A scream fled your lungs, the sudden rearing of the horse caused you to fall out of the saddle.

The next burning arrows barely missed Goliath, Lancelot dismounted fast and send the stallions away, because as long as they were near the horses were a target. He moved to your direction until Arthur loudly warned him of the next set of arrows coming his way. There was barely enough time to dodge the arrows, from the trees the assailants charged at him and Arthur, their target was clearly the contents of the wagon. And unfortunately you, Arthur and Lancelot were their obstacle. They had send that arrow towards Bear on purpose, causing a distraction and preventing you from having an advantage on horseback against them.

Arthur jumped down from the wagon to help you and Lancelot, and immediately had to defend himself against these attackers. There were many, at least ten, all Manblood. You got up to your feet and barely had enough time to draw your sword to ward off the woman that lunged at you. Chaos had erupted from all sides. These thieves were ruthless and impatient, you saw Arthur get struck in the face by one of them. The same happened to Lancelot mere seconds later when four of them gathered up against him. The woman attacking you was growing angrier by the second, and as she lifted her sword into the air to strike it down upon you you sank down to your knees and send your sword upward into her chest. One of her comrades had seen it happen and there was not enough time to free your sword before you had to evade him. He swung at you with his axe and you grabbed his arm to block the attack, you held on, knowing that letting go meant getting wounded. The man roughly moved half a turn and made you trip over his feet, you kicked the back of his knee right away to get the idea out of his head that he was just going to put that axe into your skull, it send him to the ground too and the fight for the axe began. You balled your fist and struck his nose hard while trying to pull the axe from his hand.

A strong tug at the back of your jacket broke you away from him, and then you were being dragged over the grass while you tried to pry the hand from behind your neck. The cold steel of a blade touched the side of your throat. Just then, Arthur hit the ground, a sword was held to his throat as well. Lancelot was still cutting through them, meeting their violent attack with his own.

The one threatening Arthur drew his attention. “Drop your sword!” He saw Lancelot look at him, then at Arthur, then at you. “Kneel on the ground, hands behind your head, or we’ll gut them like pigs!”

The broad man that held on to your jacket chuckled ominously, then proceeded to drag you over the ground towards the wagon and only then did you notice it was your own sword you were being threatened with.

Arthur saw them drag you to the wagon and understood their intent. “No! Lancelot!”

What choice did he have? If he continued to fight whilst you and Arthur were held at the blade this would end in tragedy.

Arthur received a hard kick to the stomach for that and tried to crawl away to no avail.

“Leave him be!” Lancelot let the sword fall from his hands and knelt down as they had ordered.

They bound his hands behind his back and fortunately they did not see the importance and value of the sword near their feet. Arthur was bound by rope too, left to struggle to get himself into a seated position. Your eyes locked on Lancelot’s, your worried ones found his to be eerily calm.

“Lance-” you couldn’t say what you wanted before you were being pulled further away.

“Be not afraid.” he answered the question he could read from your eyes.

The broad man held your hand up all of a sudden. “Gerold! Look here. Gold!”

You closed your hand into an iron grip when realizing he was going to steal your ring.

He twisted your hand, digging his dirty nails into it to pry it open. He nearly broke your finger to get it off. Another came to look inside your satchel to search for valuables, you prayed the bracelet did not slip past your sleeve as it would certainly tempt them to steal it too.

“Gerold…” The scrawny man held up one of the golden coins that was found in the satchel. “This one is worth more than she appears.”

Gerold looked at the wagon full of newly purchased wares, at the coins found in your satchel, and he came to his conclusion. “There’s more where that came from. She’s coming with us.”

The nasty comment made you want to strangle the life out of the scrawny one. They forced you onto the wagon, some of the thieves got on the wagon as well whilst others went to retrieve their horses.

Lancelot called out to Gerold, “I will bring any gold you desire if you leave her be!”

Gerold was disinterested. “Unlike her, you do not have a satchel with gold on you. We are taking her.”

The wagon began to move, those on horses rode along to guard it. A few of them stayed with Lancelot and Arthur, keeping them under control until the wagon was at a safe distance. You kept calm as they bound your hands behind your back as well. It was an odd calmness, one that hide the storm brewing underneath your skin. This wagon, your ring, you were not going to abandon it. Lancelot and Arthur were alive, and safe now that those thieves had left them there. They believed you were the key to the gold they so desired, if only they knew what you planned to do to those who threatened your newfound home.

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[quietly-sleeping]

part 2

Liu Qingge might be bad with faces, he can admit that, at least to himself. Never to anyone else, though. Being called an uneducated brute, and the most feral of the feral child colony was enough for him. 

However, as bad as Liu Qingge was with faces, he’s almost certain he’s seen this one before. It could just be the fact that the man was covered in blood and monster entrails, but Liu Qingge swears he’d seen this person before. 

“Do I know you?” Liu Qingge asked, still standing atop the Iron Flecked Mole Rat. The man that Liu Qingge swears he’d met gaped at him for a moment, his dark green eyes wide as Liu Qingge flicked off the last of the monster's blood from his sword. “No?” The man dragged out the word oddly, Liu Qingge squinted at him. 

“Are you sure?” Liu Qingge jumped down from the back of the monster, barely making a noise as his feet hit the leaf-covered ground. “Yes?” The man scrambled to stand, grimacing slightly as blood dripped from his hair down his face. “You do not sound sure.” Liu Qingge got closer to him, frowning as he tried to examine the man’s face closer. 

“Where would we even meet? You look like you belong to a big sect, I’m just a wandering cultivator.” Liu Qingge frowned down at the man, just barely shorter than him, the man smiled, almost, nervous? Liu Qingge needed to add the ability to read people’s emotions to his list of weaknesses, directly below recognizing faces. 

“Could have met during a hunt. Like we have now. What is your name.” The man’s eyes slide from him glancing back at the dead Iron Flecked Mole Rat, “I’m pretty sure neither of us would be on the same job.” He said, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “We are now, what is your name.”

The man hummed, glancing around the empty trees around them, most of the other animals long scared off by the rampaging mole rat. “Sha….Yan. My name is Sha Yan.” Liu Qingge turned that around in his mind for a moment, he was pretty sure he’d never met a Sha Yan before.

However, the man could be lying to him, he was shifting quite a lot, or maybe that was the monster blood he was drenched in. “Alright.” The man, Sha Yan, perked up, “You believe me?” Not as much anymore. “Enough. I will bring you to an inn, it’s my fault you are dirty.” 

Sha Yan blinked at him, “You don’t have to? I know the way back to the village,” Liu Qingge shook his head, “I caused you to be covered in blood, I will fix it.” Sha Yan went to open his mouth but Liu Qingge picked up the Iron Flecked Mole Rat and nodded to Sha Yan to start moving.

Shen Qingqiu sipped at his tea, the silence between the three people was tense but Shen Qingqiu had experience ignoring it. Qi Qingqi set her cup down, much gentler than she would have had her wife not been in the room, “So, who is it?” Shen Qingqiu hummed for a moment, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about Qi-shimei.” 

Qi Qingqi’s face warped slightly before she restrained herself, “Shen-shixiong,” The honorific left her mouth reluctantly, “Most of Cang Qiong knows shixiong is ah, looking for someone. This shimei would be delighted to help, but she cannot without a name.” 

Shen Qingqiu simply stared at her for a moment before Lai Xiulan broke the silence, “Thank you for accepting our request for tea, Lord Shen. This one has heard some interesting theories from the disciples.” Shen Qingqiu nodded at the other woman, he typically preferred speaking with her rather than her wife. 

Usually. “I understand you must be worried Lady Lai, but I intend to keep information from anyone who may tip off my…wayward quarry.” Qi Qingqi frowned at him, leaning back slightly, “And you believe us to be able to tip your target off?” Lai Xiulan frowned slightly at her wife before turning back to the other Peak Lord with a small smile, “This one believes that Lord Shen does not have harmful intentions with this search, and we intend to offer our help with the search, if we may?” 

The true issue with speaking to Lai Xiulan was she was such a stickler to formalities and so genuine that even Shen Qingqiu and his cold dead heart, felt a flicker of something when he attempted to cut her with his words. Guilt was a disgusting emotion, even the brief flickers. 

“This shixiong does not intend to turn away his shimei’s earnest help. However, this shixiong must be certain that shimei will not tell any of our martial siblings until the Peak Lord Meeting next week.” If Shen Qingqiu didn’t know his shimei’s personality he would have said she almost pouted at being denied the ability to gossip. “Fine,” She grumbled, Lai Xiulan patted her hands consolingly before directing a bright smile at Shen Qingqiu. 

Despicable woman, Shen Qingqiu huffed, “The subject of this hunt is Shen Yuan of Ling You.” Qi Qingqiu perked up, leaning forward with a glint in her eye, “Little Yuan-shidi? Who knew you had it in you Shen Qingqiu.” Lai Xiulan glanced between her wife and Shen Qingqiu with curiosity plain on her face. 

“Maybe my little disciples were right, did Yuan-shidi scorn you? You should apologize if you made a mistake, shixiong.” Her smile was sharp, a sharp-eyed predator who’d spotted a juicy morsel. Shen Qingqiu restrained his impulse to simply demand she leave, her wife was still here, and despite how manipulative Lai Xiulan was, she was simply too nice to turn a cold shoulder to. 

“You consume too many cheap novels shimei.” Was all he deigned to say to the gossip mongrel. Her sharp laughter rang in the small bamboo house. 

Liu Qingge had left the body of the Iron Flecked Mole Rat in one of the larger qiankun bags he had left in the only inn in the village. He knew none other than another cultivator could walk off with the body but he needed multiple parts of the mole rat in good condition for the other peaks. 

Liu QIngge went into the inn and quickly bought both a room and a tub, Sha Yan was waiting outside, the blood still dripping from his robes. Liu Qingge went out to stand with Sha Yan, unwilling to let him out of sight for very long. It didn’t take long for a worker to poke their head out and tell him the bath was waiting up in his room. 

Sha Yan was quiet as they walked into the inn and down the narrow hallway, he had spoken most of the walk back, informing Liu QIngge of the habits, behaviors, and habitats of Iron Flecked Mole Rats, he’d spoken about the different ways Iron Flecked Mole Rats developed depending on region for most of the walk. 

It was interesting to be sure; Liu Qingge had never had the patience to sit and memorize the different irrelevant details of different monsters or beasts. He’d only learned how to kill them and which could be edible. Sha Yan’s memory of the different beasts around was deeply impressive to him, he almost wanted to drag Sha Yan back to Cang Qiong and place him on Ling You. 

The Peak was without a Peak Lord anyway, being run solely by Hall Masters and spontaneous visits from Peak Lords who had less to do than they claimed. It could do with an actual Peak Lord to watch over it, and Sha Yan seemed around his age. 

They stepped into the inn room, two beds tucked up against each wall with a divider separating the room from the wooden tub. Sha Yan shuffled over to the bathtub, peering in at the water before glancing back at Liu Qingge. “Are you sure you want me to bathe first?” 

Liu Qingge stared at him for a moment, flicking his eyes down at where the blood was dripping onto the floor, “Yes.” Sha Yan followed his eyes and grimaced before fully shuffling behind the divider. 

All in all the inn was very well kept for such a small village, the village was named, though Liu Qingge had already forgotten the name, but it hadn’t seen much in terms of coin. The roads were all dirt, many houses had holes in their roofs that were awkwardly patched and it was easy to spot where buildings had been repaired after the recent rainy season. 

Liu Qingge unsheathed Cheng Luan and quietly began to maintain the sword, cycling his qi through it as he carefully cleaned the hilt and blade. Weapon maintenance was an important part of a cultivator's life, something Wei Qingwei and his peak made a point to force into the rest of the sect’s heads.  

Liu Qingge huffed, remembering all of the times he’d had to resort to biting Wei Qingwei when they were disciples to continue training with his sword. Wei Qingwei was larger than him, in height and breadth, and knew how to weaponize his size. 

It didn’t matter that he’d just broken his wrist or that Mu-shidi said you need to be resting, not working with your sword! Wei Qingwei never brought up those incidents after they happened, but Liu Qingge knew that Wei Qingwei just needed an introduction to how fights work on Bai Zhan, at least among younger disciples. 

Sha Yan was done with his bath once Liu Qingge had finished cleaning his sword. The bath had to be dumped and refilled, with Sha Yan awkwardly hidden behind the moved divider so the worker could get to the tub. But Liu Qingge was more inclined to find a stream somewhere since the worker already dumped and refilled the bath once. 

The only thing that kept him from leaving and finding a stream was Sha Yan, who had begun to look increasingly more nervous the longer he spent with Liu Qingge in the inn. His chatter had started up once more, moving from Iron Flecked Mole Rats to the Starry Night Dogs, talking about how they’d adapted to the various weather conditions that may impede their ability to channel the stars. 

His words only grew quicker, and he pulled out a notebook from inside a qiankun pouch Liu Qingge previously hadn’t spotted, flopping down onto the other bed in the room. Sha Yan flipped through the notebook, gesturing at various pages as he spoke. Eventually, Liu Qingge had enough of it, “Why are you nervous?” his voice was flat, but his eyebrows were drawn together, Sha Yan stared at the Peak Lord, opening and closing his mouth. 

“I…Well, I suppose I wasn’t expecting you to stay here with me?” Sha Yan squeezed out, the tops of his ears beginning to color as he fidgeted. Liu Qingge tilted his head slightly, “Why? It is honorable to fix my wrongs.” Sha Yan laughed a little, tucking his legs up onto his bed as well, “You don’t have to? I mean, you didn’t commit any wrongs against me.” 

Liu Qingge shook his head at the younger man, at least he thought he was younger, “You were drenched in the blood of the Iron Flecked Mole Rat because of my carelessness.” Sha Yan smiled a little at that, “I’m clean now? I kind of expected to you leave once we got to the inn.” 

Liu Qingge simply shrugged and removed his hair crown before tossing it onto the bed. The thing was extremely uncomfortable during sleep and he wanted at least some sleep, even the frustrating light sleep he was bound to get. 

Shang Qinghua wished he let Mu-shidi sedate him. Inquires were flooding in, both from his fellow Peak Lords and from disciples, poking their noses into his peak, distracting his disciples. He had deadlines to meet, please!

Mu-shidi had visited earlier in the morning, concern politely plastered on his face, as though Shang Qinghua couldn’t see the glint in his eyes. The same glint he had when he used his needles to subdue someone. Shang Qinghue didn’t need to be sedated, he needed to get everything handled. 

Maybe he hadn’t slept in a few days, working through a report from Liu-shidi, sorting through budget reports, tracking down where the HELL his lumbar supplier disappeared to. He had things to do, and while being sedated sounded nicer the longer he stared down at a report from Liu-shidi, detailing a cultivator that was currently being hunted by their shixiong, he had to get through it. 

Finish the report, send it to Zhangmen-shixiong, who will deal with it, deal with Shen-shixiong, and then get sedated. A good plan, but unfortunately derailed by Qi Qingqi barging into his office as he continued to stare down at the piece of paper he was certain held the answer to his life’s problems. 

“Shang Qinghua?” Qi Qingqi called out, never Shang-shixiong, always Shang Qinghua, “I’m going to have a nervous breakdown.” Was all he replied with. Qi Qingqi nodded slowly, “Is this a conversation for Mu-shixiong?” Shang Qinghua didn’t respond but grabbed the devilish piece of paper from his desk and held it aloft to her. 

“If you are going to have me sedated, give this to Zhangmen-shixiong. I’m not dealing with this.” Qi Qingqi frowned but took the paper, scanning over it, her sharp eyebrows raising as she read, “Sounds fair, Shang-shixiong. I’ll call for Mu-shixiong.”

ao3

part 1

[100-gar]

Controversial take but i watched all of jjk, in subbed, so it had my full attention 100% of the time, and i am of the opinion that it just fucking sucks.

So me and my wife were talking about it, and we were trying to figure out why people like it and we've come up short. I do not understand what's so appealing about this show for so many people. Can someone PLEASE tell me.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 8

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 3k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (piv, morning sex, come marking?, cock warming) DOWN BAD!DAEMON, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: this chapter became 6k+ words so i had to split it T_T. at least that means i'll be updating relatively faster lol. i hope you enjoy since all the fluff is here HAHAHAH and if you do, please leave a comment/reblog to let me know <3 <3 <3. once again, the high valyrian is internet translated, so it might be wrong. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching

Otto nods as he passes a group of clergy members. He makes his way down the otherwise empty temple, eyes forward as he clutches a firm figurine in his hand. He grunts as he gets down on his knees in front of a fresco of the seven pointed star.

He lights three candles in front of him, saying three different names each time. He places the figurine he brought with him beside them. Of course, it wasn't a figurine but a woolen doll. He says another name, your name, then starts this prayers.

"Father, guard my family through this trying time, my son, my daughters... my daughter," he brushes the face of the doll then closes his eyes. "Stranger, put the souls of the departed Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon to rest.

"Warrior, strengthen my daughter and spare her and her unborn child from succumbing the same fate. Mother, grant her comfort and good health through her journey to motherhood. Crone, guide her and grant her good discernment, so that she may not fear the unknown. Maiden, preserve her beauty, her light."

He opens his eyes and stares at the point that represented the Smith. He grits his teeth before sighing in defeat, "Smith, fortifier... mender... I beg," he sighs, "mend her heart. Mend her body. I beseech you. Let not my prayer fall deaf on your ears any longer."

The candlelight before him glows as he waits another day for the answer to his decade old prayer.

Meanwhile, the candles in your room have long been put out, including the one you normally keep lit by your bed. You are first to rouse today, and yet you could not rise from bed, as you were pressed beneath the body of your husband. Daemon sighed contentedly on your chest, one arm and leg draped over you. You have never slept together (or so you think) so you figured that Daemon probably moved a lot in his sleep, which is how you both ended up in this position.

You stare at the top of his head, continuing to brush through his silver hair. In truth, you did not want to rise. You wanted to stay in this peace, in this stillness. It would not last long, you knew it— you dreaded it.

Goosebumps form on your skin when you feel your husband's hand brush over your belly before hooking on to your hip. You begin to feel your heart race as you remember what your father told you the night before.

How could you tell him? How could you possibly tell Daemon that you were with child, when you knew he was so diligent in assuring you would not be? Was it even possible to carry his seed when he never finished inside you?

Against yourself, you remember the day you caught Gwayne kissing a lady behind a curtain, and how you attacked him because you thought he had gotten her pregnant. The poor girl ran away as you beat your twin, and Gwyane defended himself, saying that's not how you do it. You did not know any better, so you told him you did not believe him and nearly forced him to go to your father to announce you would be marrying the lady. He, in turn had to explain what he knew, to both your horror.

You were no fool to simply believe the words of your stupid twin, so you made it your mission to find out the truth. After sneaking books from the Citadel itself, you read many a book only to find out your twin was telling you the truth.

That was why dread rippled across your skin, for could there ever be a world where Daemon purposefully pulled out and is not angered by this news, where he does not accuse you of infidelity?

You go between worry and peace as you brush your fingers across the prince's skin. You try to convince yourself that all will be well, but each time you do, another part of your mind raises that nothing's ever been well with you. You decide then, even if just for this moment, you will pretend the calmness of your husband will remain.

But the world is cruel, for at this same moment, Daemon awakens.

He stirs with a groan, face rubbing against your sternum. The robe you had on was no longer covering your chest. Your heart races as he looks up at you, his violet eyes still sleepy, "sȳz ñāqes."

You do not understand, but you assume it means good morning, and so you say, "good morning."

Daemon sighs as he pushes himself up, removing his pants. You tense as he comes atop you and kisses your neck. He nudges your head to the side with his own and soon, he pushes your legs apart with his knees.

Your hands come to his hip bones, where you then dig your nails in, making him groan. You whimper when you feel him grind his groin into yours. He is half-hard.

"Sesīr isse ñuha ēdrugon, jaelan ao." Even in my sleep, I want you.

You whimper yet again when he begins to rock against you, digging your nails deeper into him.

"Gīda ilagon," he mutters as he fully parts your robe, repeating in common tongue, "calm down."

You are taken aback by how he pecks your lips once before kissing your neck again.

"Dreamt about fucking your pretty cunny," he mutters lowly between kisses, "wanna make it real."

His words make you ache and throb. In a way, you were comforted by the thought Daemon wanted you, even if it was just your body. You close your eyes and let yourself relax. You sigh against his ear, nuzzling into his shoulder, and brush your hand up his back. As your hands trail to his biceps, his skin breaks out with gooseflesh and a high pitched whimper leaves his lips.

"Fuuuuuuck," he whines out rather pathetically.

There is a languidness to his movements unlike you've ever experienced. His normally brash and pointed demeanor is soft and gentle, his kisses even more so. There is no sense of urgency whatsoever as he rolls his hips against you. If you didn't know any better, you would have believed that he wanted to savor the moment.

He did. He wanted to savor your body, as dreaming of it had him feeling some indistinguishable way. You would never know this though, for he would never tell you.

By the time you've become shaky and your cunt was absolutely sopping wet because of Daemon's now fully hard cock rubbing up against it, he finally pushes into you, drawing out a deep groan from your throat. You tighten your legs and arms around him and your teeth sink into his shoulder.

Daemon grips your thighs as he thrusts into you. He barely pulls out, seemingly determined to go deeper and deeper each time, wanting— needing to be pressed flush into you. His hands sneak beneath you, fingers raking up your shoulder blades to your nape before tangling into your brown hair. He breathes heavily against your ear as your bodies grow hotter and hotter.

You both remain in this snug position, doing this constricted dance until your bellies begin to burn. He doesn't speed up at all or pull out any more than he already has. You feel your body begin to tense and your climax begin to build, and then, just then, a spirit overcomes Daemon.

The next moment, he has his hand on your jaw, forcing your head back. Just as you reach your peak, he pulls out and thrusts his wet cock on your slick folds, once, twice, until his hard member is soft and twitching. His load shoots out up to your chest and sputters down on your belly, garnering a surprised gasp from you. It's hot and viscous against your skin and you wonder what it would have felt like had he released in you. There's so much of it too.

"Fuck, fuck, fu-" Daemon repeats, thinking the exact same thing you were.

You expect him to roll over, because there is no way he wouldn't after soiling you, but you gasp yet again as he comes crashing down on you, skin sticking with a squelch.

He is arrested by your warmth and wants nothing but to plunge into you again. So, in his greed, he grabs his still twitching cock and pushes it into you, releasing a long and throaty groan as he does so. It makes you tremble and whimper his name. You were not expecting the intrusion, so you brush your cheek against his, hoping he understands to give you a moment of repose before going again.

After a while, though you still felt tender from your orgasm, you brush your cheek against him once more, signaling you were ready for him again.

He does the strangest thing however, and simply brushes his cheek back. He pulls his head back, looking down at you, "litse riña." Pretty girl.

You notice the softness of his violet eyes and knit your brows at it. He is so overwhelming you cannot help but kiss him. There was still remnants of morning breath in your mouths, but neither of you cared.

Daemon is loathe to have you pull away. He leans into your touch as you brush his unruly hair back. You slowly shake your head, "I do not understand, my prince."

"iksā sīr rāpa se bāne," you are so soft and warm. He brushes your noses together, "ñuha ābrazȳrys," my wife.

A line forms between your brows at the foreign tongue. You wait for him to translate as he brings his hand to your cheek. He stares at you for a long moment, thumb brushing your skin.

He makes no attempt to decode the High Valyrian for you, and soon, a knock comes upon your door.

Daemon is instantly irritated as he glares over his shoulder, muttering, "who the fuck is that?"

"My servants. I-"

Before you could even finish, your two servant girls are waking in, and Daemon watches them as they head for your bathroom, horribly and painfully unaware of him. He waits for them to reemerge, and the moment they do, he is instantly screaming, "FUCK OFF, CUNTS! THE DOOR'S CLOSED FOR A REASON."

You hear their gasps, squeals, and apologies before scurrying off, slamming the door behind them as they did.

Instantly, yet again, Daemon relaxes and nuzzles against your neck.

"D-Daemon," you whisper, sinking your fingers into his long hair, "they normally wake me up at-"

"I don't give a fuck," he quips, tightening his hold on you, "they'll know better now."

You clench your jaw and sigh, making mental note to apologize to your girls for the prince's actions.

You begin to doze off, as does Daemon in all his gluttonous glory. The two of you stay in bed until lunch time, which is far longer than you've ever personally stayed.

Arryk, who had been stationed outside your door for a while now, is concerned by this. He raps at the entrance to your room and calls your name. When he receives no response, he peaks inside and inspects the stillness of it all. Unnerved by the idea you were sleeping in, he thinks the worse and walks in, calling your name again. His breath is forced down his throat when he sees the flash of white hair on the bed. He sees a hand rub down a toned back and he immediately reels back, quiet and as quick as he possibly can.

You wake the second time because of the growling of your stomach. It is loud and painful, so much so, it wakes your husband.

He groans, brushing his nose against you, "hungry?"

You huff, craning your neck to look at him, finding his closed eyes, "clearly, I'm starving."

A rich chuckle rumbles from his chest. He opens his eyes and they twinkle with mischief, "I could feed you something meaty."

Your face contorts, "I do not think you'd want me to bite your cock, my prince."

Daemon laughs, hard enough to fully awaken him. He wheezes, and rolls of your chest, "I did-" sigh, "not say it was-" wheeze, "my cock."

You hum, "oh, of course not. Apologies."

Your sarcasm only maddens him further into amusement.

You take this as a chance to wriggle away from him, and so you do. The semen still on your skin is tepid and pasty as it smears against your chests. Your robe is completely lose as you come to a stand. You decide not to dirty your garment with Daemon's seed by covering yourself, so you head for the bathroom with your robe open.

You gasp at the swiftness of how your are grabbed and pulled back. Your body collides into Daemon's chest. Your care for your satin robe if for naught, because it sticks on his come anyway. Daemon's is hypnotized by your scent. He is quick to brush your hair over shoulder and mumble against your nape, "you wound me with your eagerness to flee me, wife."

His hands come to squeeze your breasts and you whimper as you turn to him. You knit your brows and pout, "that is not true."

"No?" he says a little louder than he ought as his emotions slightly get ahead of him, "are you not running from me this moment?"

You frown and fully face him, having to peel your robe off his chest as you do, "I'm simply going to bathe." You stare at his chest, "you've made a mess of me."

Daemon tilts his head, "not nearly enough, in my opinion."

You find the self-satisfied grin on his face, "you should too bathe with me."

"Mmm, well then," he takes your hand, "bathe we shall."

The water that your servants had brought was now cold, but you both made do with what you had. Daemon is simultaneously unsurprised and taken aback by how you tend to him first, he does not know why. You've bathed him once before, and yet it somehow feels different. You scrub his chest with cloth and inspire him to do the same for you. You lean into his touch as he washes you off, and it makes his stomach roll.

He takes a good look at you, your skin, the marks he left on it, your nose, your knees, your hair, everything, and he cannot believe something so... so immaculate, so resplendent could be borne from a man so detestable.

"You are not your father's daughter," he says so casually.

You look up at him, freezing because of his random sentiment.

"You are the gods promise to me. A woman made to sate my fire."

Your brows knit at his words. You tilt your head and it makes him nearly goes mad. How darling you ask, "I sate your fire?"

He hums and pulls you into him, kissing your arm as he did, "stoke, perhaps, is truer."

Your breath hitches when he brings you to his lap. He sighs as he feels your flesh against his, it wont be long until he's hard all over again. He licks a stripe up your left breast, "I am, in fact, insatiable."

Your heart races and he peppers kisses up your neck. You lean your forehead against his after kissing your lips. You whisper in earnest, "I will try."

Daemon pulls back, hands coming to your neck as he looks at you.

"I will try to sate you."

Fuck. The thought should have made him laugh, but it doesn't. It makes him burn. He cannot say anything, for his mouth seeks yours. He kisses your lips and you two sequentially spend another hour or so turning the water warm as it splashes all over the floor.

You're antsy and eager to feast by the end of it all.

You help each other get dressed, and Daemon finds the way you hastily button his doublet ever-so-endearing. When it's his turn to help, he shushes you and rubs your shoulders before securing your corset from behind, "your food will not fly off the window."

You rub your aching stomach, "I pray it flies into my mouth soon."

He snickers as he finishes tying your laces.

You quickly run towards the vanity and hastily begin to brush your still damp hair.

He watches you bounce your leg and the faintest of smiles graces his lips. He watches your chest begin to rise and fall rather quickly, and soon his brows furrow. He walks up behind you, "aeritta run." Restless thing.

He takes your hand and your jaw, but it is unlike most times he does so. His touch is gentle. He does not force you to hand your brush or look forward, but you do. You look at each other from the mirror; your chest continues to heave.

"Paez ilagon," Daemon enunciates, "say it for me, won't you?"

Your brows furrow in slight confusion. You release a breath, "pez ilegon."

"Paez," he corrects.

"Paez."

"Good," he nods, "ilagon."

"Il... Ilagon."

"Rōvēgrior," Daemon leans in and mumbles against your temple, "excellent. Now..." he kisses your temple, "once more: paez ilagon."

You take a breath, doing your best to mimic his accent, "pa...ez i- ... lagon."

"Arlī," again, he motions with his pointer, "speak confidently."

"Daemon."

"You can do it," he tilts his head at your reflection, "paez ilagon."

You sigh and nod your head, "paez ilagon."

His violet eyes twinkle, "rōvēgrior," excellent, he claps his hands, "spoken like a true Valyrian."

You turn to him, breath hitching at the sight of his smile, "wha-"

Daemon takes your face and makes you turn forward.

You look at his reflection and grip your skirt, fearing you'd upset him. But then he begins to style your hair and butterflies overcome your belly. You try to ignore the thump of your heart by clearing your throat, "what d-does it mean?"

"Paez ilagon is slow down."

"Ahhh," your jaw drops in slight embarrassment, "I see."

Daemon points, "hand me your pin."

You get the hair pin on the vanity and hand it over, "and the other one?"

"Hmm?"

"Ro... roz- rovevegregor."

Daemon tilts his head as he chuckles through his nostrils, a soft smile remaining on his face as he finishes securing your hair in a similar manner he does himself.

You witness all of this and your heart skips a beat.

"Rōvēgrior," he repeats, "try to roll your tongue."

"..."

"Go on."

"RRRRozeofoieve-"

He laughs and takes a hair tie from the table. He quickly does his own hair then takes you by the hand. He ushers you to the door as he continues to chuckle, "we should get you something to eat. You sound ill."

You are hypnotized by his melodic laugh. You don't dare interrupt it, so you whisper under your breath, mostly to yourself, "but what does it mean?"

"Excellent," he says, hearing your whisper. He opens the door for you, "it means excellent, gevie."

You do not notice Arryk as you exit your chambers, "but what about that?"

Daemon does not notice him either, "what?"

"Ge- gevie?"

"Gevie?" he repeats.

You nod.

Arryk bows and greets you, "princess."

You turn to him as he bows again, "my prince."

Daemon does not spare him a glance. Beautiful, it meant, but he instead tells you, "it is a secret."

You do not respond to Daemon, but he does not mind. He is fully content to stare at you. You smile at your ward, taking a second to guess who it is, "good morn, ser. Are you... Erryk?"

Arryk examines you, finally breathing a sigh of relief to know you are unharmed. He is also glad to see you are not dressed in attire that... exposes the good works of your husband. In the same second, he notices your said husband, and how keenly is gaze is set upon your beaming form. He clenches his jaw, "nay, your grace. Neither am I my brother, nor is it morning."

"Oh," you purse your lips, "my apologies, dear Arryk."

Daemon quickly pulled out of his haze, raising a brow at dear Arryk, "you may go."

Arryk turns to him.

"I will keep my wife company today," he says, wasting no more time in idle chatter, taking you by the hand.

You both walk off and you offer Arryk a smile and nod in regard.

Arryk clenches his jaw but forces himself to smile back at you. He is uneasy by the prospect, knowing how fickle and volatile Daemon can become regarding you. He stares at your joined hands as you walk away, deciding to trust the prince for your sake.

[tan1shere]

hi bb 🥹

could you do like a deep comfort with Billie? where reader is feeling really anxious and we’re just sitting in the bed and she just helps talk out our troubles and thoughts and just holds us and is physically intimate with us (fluffy) to help us calm down <3

New Chapter

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: I saw this tiktok and ugh I just needed to write something like it. Hope you enjoy nonnie ! (Ok so embarrassing update. Sad update LMAO but I forgot Ms billie can't get us pregnant -i just didn't think the idea through- so I'm making it a bit creative and I'm praying you enjoy, just try not to think of it as legitimate and focus on the comfort okur :D) - also sorry if it's short 😔 - also kinda went way off your request :( I hope you like this tho nonnie

Summary: you're always an anxious mess, so once you find out this news you have a complete breakdown.

Warnings: angstyish, comfort, suggestive mentions ??? Anxiety attack, I think that's it !

Masterlist

Uh oh. Was all you thought this morning when you felt ill. You had so much work to get done you did not need to get a cold or the flu ontop of that. Then it hit you on what it could be. Surely not though.

Rewind to a few weeks ago. You and Billie had just had a date night and you wanted to try something new, per her suggestion. Slightly drunk you both decide to use the ejaculating dildo. But last time which wasn't that long ago, you were trying for a baby. You had been finding anonymous donors for a while and she finally found one. You ended up forgetting about it, so you thought nothing could happen because I mean, it was old. Surely nothing could attach to anything right?

Wrong. This feeling was getting worse as the morning went on. Billie was over at Finneas' working on some music related things. So she wasn't there. You had bought pregnancy tests like a month ago when you and Billie came up with the random idea. You were ready then, kind of. Now? Fuck no. Your job had been getting worse and you were honestly thinking of quitting. But you couldn't do that. Even if Billie insisted that it'd be ok, she could pay for the both of you she says. But you said she shouldn't ever have to do that.

Working was your everything even if this job was the putz, you've always loved working. You procrastinate looking at this stupid test. The whole baby thing was merely a thought you guys weren't 100% on it. Atleast you weren't. A human growing inside you, that's so much to think about. Children are a huge responsibility. Your head soon feels light, trying to calm your nerves. "Don't be stupid, this is just nothing. Turn it over." You try and convince yourself. Your hand trembles as you do, fully expecting 'not pregnant'

Wrong again. Your eyes widen tremendously. "Fuck, no no-" You accidentally drop it starting to freak out. Your chest feeling extra heavy. And just in time to freak out more, the front door opens. "Hey baby! I'm back." Baby.. Baby. Ones growing inside you. Your mind races. Shit, fuck. Your freakout continues. Your breathing becoming labored. Trying to calm down as your heart rate picks up. Pointless. "Y/n?" You try desperately to think of something, how on earth do you even explain this to her. 'Oh hey, yeah I'm pregnant.' Not to mention how scared you were.

You didn't want this not now, and you honestly weren't sure if you ever would. That's probably just the anxiety talking, but all you could think about was how scary this all was. Scared wasn't even the right word for how you were feeling. And the pain in your heart was telling you that. She comes into the bathroom looking at you with worry. "What's going on-?" Then she saw your teary eyes, panic flooding her. "Hey, hey. What's up?" She grabs your face gently. "Talk to me, please." But she stops herself realizing you were about to have a panic attack.

"Ok, look at me, I'm right here." Her hands grab yours going to put it on her heart like she always does, but you retract them. Shoving them in your hair. "I cant do this." You say breathing heavy. Still stuck on what you had just read on that stupid stick. It's all you could think about right now. "Do what babe?" That worried her more. What on earth were you talking about. "This can't be real- I have to be dreaming." You then say clutching your beating heart, shaking your head in disbelief. She grabs your face again, never harsh. "What. Is going on." Her thumb swipes your tear stained cheeks.

In attempt to calm you, and it worked for a moment. How do you even tell her. "I-.." You began but tear up again. You couldn't find the words at first, buy you try so hard. "I'm pregnant." You decide to just blur out, ripping of the bandaid, the stuck. Sticky. Bandaid. She gives you a confused look. "Babe-" She doesn't believe you, you wish you didn't believe you. "You do realize-" But you turn around before she could finish, grabbing the test and putting it in her hands. She widens her eyes, seeing it. Even more confused than she was before. Then her brain clicks. "The dildo.." you hear her mumble.

You're pacing, but she grabs you. "Hey, it's ok. I promise this will be all o-" "No. I can't do this, I don't think I ever could. This is so scary and." You stop feeling your chest heave. "Baby." She then says. "Yeah, ones growing in me. A human, I can't do that." She grabs you again, spotting how another attack was coming on, her hands grabbing yours and instinctively putting them on her heart. One of your coping mechanisms. "Look at me, we can do this I promise." You sob. "It was old how'd it even-" She brings you into her. Wrapping her arms around you. "I don't know my love... I don't know." But that's all you needed to stay calm, her warmth was incredibly comforting. Her voice calming every nerve inside you.

Just like it always did. You wrap your arms tightly around her. Burying your head into her chest. Lettung the initial shock die down. Heart going back to normal after awhile. Her hand gently caresses your hair, kissing the crown of it. "I'm here, which will be the main thing and we will get through this together no matter what." Her soothing touches and voice was all you needed. That's what helped in the end. You kinda wished you had done it when she was home, knowing that if she had been, you could've potentially avoided a anxiety attack. Still holding you close as you did so, letting you know that all of this would be ok. "What if I suck, what if it hurts-"

But she stops you, really not wanting you to think about this right now. "Hey, don't worry about that right now ok?" She pulls you back getting you to look at her. "I know you're scared. Fuck, I am too. But we got this." Her finger moves a loose strand out of your face, holding it once again. "You're good with kids, so good with kids. I'm just worried that I won't be good with it." Her head shakes. "You'll be amazing. You've got so much love in you, I know once it's here you'll be the best. Mother. Mark my words." You smile at her brightly. Everything she was saying soothing every worry. You were so glad to have someone like that in your life.

"I love you." She then says, making you cry out of happiness this time.

"I love you more. I'm so glad out of anyone in this world, you're the one I'm doing it with."

"And that's never changing."

Lil note, since I felt like I didn't get your request like you wanted and it's kinda bugging me (a lil mad at myself) I'll do a little blurb of a small idea that I got !

[sozila]

convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: explicit content eventually, mdni. mentions of sexual assault.

masterlist | previous | next

you are on: incubation. (part three)

a/n:

i'm so sorry this took literally forever to release! i was writing parts of the nanami fic and this chapter simultaneously, and then got really busy in between :( as an apology, wc for this chapter is 7.3k!! biggest shoutout to @beeh-ive, my one and only beta reader <3 ilysm and you are my iv, my lifeline. mwahs. anyways i hope you enjoy!!

ao3 link here.

incubation. (part three)

sukuna kept the hello kitty band-aids you gave him in his wallet. 

he had no intention of using them, though he kept telling himself they were there if he needed some in an emergency. if that was the case, they wouldn’t be sitting in the photo pocket where he could see anytime he opened his wallet. 

what he forgot was that anyone else could also see them in his wallet, in all their flashy pink glory. that brings him here; when he begrudgingly pulls it out to pay for gojo’s food and he hears the brat start ooh-ing at the sight of them.

“aww ‘kuna, when were you gonna tell me you got a girl?”

he prods around sukuna hoping to sneak a glance at any other evidence. albeit sukuna didn’t hold anything else of yours, he sure as hell didn’t need fucking gojo knowing anything. before he could continue with his trifling, the cafeteria attendant hands sukuna his card back and he shuts the wallet with a quick slap, thrusting the tray into the over-curious man.

“shut the fuck up and eat your damn food. moocher,” he grumbles under his breath as he walks far ahead of gojo, who was skipping behind him like a satisfied child. satoru knew that the band-aids could just be a fluke, but he knew better than to overlook such a detail if it gave headway to bothering his grumpy friend. you think satoru gojo would miss the detail of seeing you on his motorcycle that night? no one was allowed to ride with sukuna minus his family. all he knew now was that he kept an eye peeled for you, the girl that sukuna threw punches for a couple nights ago. 

geto’s eyes flick up from his phone when the two reach the table he and shoko were already sat at and nods in greeting. “got my fries, bossman?” sukuna slides a container of fries to shoko and she puts her palms together in thanks towards him, already digging in. 

geto turns to the older itadori, brows knitted. “i didn’t want to grill you at the house, but todo found out about the mahito shit.” sukuna rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, sinking more into the chair. “you saw what the fucker did. you think i was gonna let my little bro’s friend get felt up by a frat brother?” geto sighs and puts his phone on the table. “i let you get some in because he touched her. but it’s not a good look when other frats saw an upperclassman beat up his younger out of the blue. todo says he’ll let it slide because of the circumstances, but next time, he’s gonna call an advisory meeting.” 

sukuna was irritated beyond belief. so sukuna was on thin ice, and mahito was facing nothing because he got his shit rocked? he scoffed. this was the exact reason he couldn’t be on the executive board for the organization. “whatever, man. i would’ve done the same even if it wasn’t a brother.” geto nods solemnly. “as a person and your friend, i don’t see anything wrong, trust. but as the vice, i have to tell you this so you’re aware. rules are shitty, i know that the most,” 

geto seemed genuinely apologetic so sukuna lightened up a tad. as the year had progressed, he could tell geto was getting fed up with dealing with social events and conflict resolution at the fraternity house. sukuna was surprised that todo was also slipping in his spirits, considering how proudly he boasted and enacted his duties as fraternity president. there’s no way he was able to make the decision to warn sukuna without feeling bad. todo was big on making the “respect women” rhetoric heavily enforced amongst them– so sukuna boiled it down to the answer that the panhellenic caught drift of the fight and made a push on todo. it checked out. the main board always did drown out scandals and washed blood from the hands of their brothers, unfortunately. therefore, sukuna was grateful this was his last year in the wretched organization as an active. he was only here because his grandpa was an alum anyways. 

“yeah, i don’t give a fuck about that consequence bullshit, geto. mojito got his ass kicked for touching up a girl, the end.” shoko pipes up, not looking up from her food.

satoru bursts into a cackle, his drink spitting out a little. “shoko, his name’s mahito!” 

she gives him a grimace of disgust. “the fuck? mahito, mojito.. bitches need to get better names, i swear to god.”

“...and then megumi told him to eat a dick, can you believe it? i think the guy was too embarrassed to say anything after that–” 

yuuji was raving about something that happened in his design class that you thought was just so yuuji of him to find hilarious. you laugh at his recreation of the scene, only to stop with the sight you caught from across the pavilion.

it was a familiar 6 foot 5 inches of black leather and faded jeans. your cheeks heat at the memory of your last exchange from the past weekend. his hands brushing yours, your eyes watching the drop of his eyelashes, your lips inches from his enough so you could feel his warm breath– you had to shake the thought away. it was inappropriate to assume that anything was even going to happen. you notice sukuna wasn’t alone. he was walking with the same brown haired girl from the party. the pretty one in the little black dress, you remember. she was in deep conversation as they walked, and sukuna seemed awfully in tandem with her. 

what, why did you even care? it wasn’t like you harbored any interest in the older itadori anyways. he was bad news all around, too brash for your liking. did you forget how every person you knew thought he was an asshole, save for his brother? he’s only ever insulted you! you bet he took you home out of necessity, you would imagine he’d get a scolding from yuuji if he found out sukuna could have helped you and didn’t. he was nothing more than your best friend’s emotionally-constipated older brother. 

but.. you didn’t let your brain register that your heart sank at scenarios in your head between him and that cooler girl. she was definitely more fitting to sukuna’s type, you were sure. her style was more mature, and aesthetically matched his. she wore demonias and you had a collection of mary janes. she probably didn’t even own any pink glitter ribbons, like the ones you liked to wear. 

“aww, you always do this! are you even paying attention to me?” you snap out of the gloomy bubble you were ruminating in. you were too focused on a man that didn’t even appear in the same social circles as you, how pathetic! you had bigger things to worry about, too. your shiny new internship was waiting for you. yuuji gave you a whiny tug and leaned his head on your shoulder, enlisting a chuckle and shove from you. he truly had the face of a puppy. “okay, okay! you have my full presence now, you big baby.” yuuji beams at you with a goofy grin. he continues on, animatedly, distracting you from the revelations you’d made. what you didn’t catch was that he followed your line of vision when your mood dropped, and was well aware it had something to do with his brother..? he had every intention of finding out why. 

the both of you enter the lecture auditorium and you tap into your rhythm again, forgetting your gloom. physics was easy for you to lose your brain into as the subject was satisfying once you got the hang of it. on the other hand, yuuji found it unnecessarily confusing and ended up needing your help from time to time. after the three hour lecture, your professor informed the class that you were to work on a project that weighed a quarter of your grade for the course. it was allowed to have a partner, but you could work individually if you wished. while you preferred doing such high-risk assignments by yourself, you couldn’t say no to the same puppy face that mouthed pleads to you. when you pack your things and go down to write your choice on the professor’s clipboard, you add “yuuji itadori” next to your name. “did i ever tell you i love you more than nobara and megs? you should know that,” he loops an arm around your neck and ruffles your hair, tousling the hairdo you had it in. you chortle. “you owe me like, thirty coffees.” “heard loud and clear, cap’n!” you decide that it would be best to start working right away and yuuji tells you they should work at his place so he could shower you with snacks and things (look at him, already living up to his deal). obviously there was no way in hell you’re passing that up, and you get to hang out with your lovely best friend for another couple hours. a total win-win.

10:00 P.M.

whoever said this was a good idea was a big fat liar. you were on the fifth reiteration of the same problem you were trying to explain to yuuji and he looked like his brain was going to spontaneously combust from the words you were throwing at him. “wait, what do you mean hooke’s law applies here?! i’m so loooost!” he threw his hands up in defeat and slumps on the coffee table, face mushed into the glass.

“we need to take a break or i might die…”

you sigh and shut your laptop. “me too. i think i forgot what i said as soon as i told you.”

you pick up an unopened bag of doritos and toss it to yuuji’s head. “nothing like red 40 to clear your sadness, though,” he moans in agreement and reaches for the bag, his head still stationary to the table. you dig in the tray of snacks for a packet for yourself when you hear the front door unlock.

in comes the same leather jacket and faded jeans, along with a bunch of grocery bags in each hand. they looked extremely heavy altogether, but he seemed to carry them with no real effort. he sets them on the kitchen island and peers at the two of you in the living room. sukuna’s face shifts slightly when his eyes land on you. you turn your head away with a jolt.

“got your shit, yuu,” he calls.

the younger itadori lifts his head finally to look for his brother, throwing him a thumbs-up.

you pretend to be immensely busy with your search for chips when you felt him walk by, and out of the corner of your eye you could see him glance at you as he goes up the stairs.

of course he would stop by when you were trying to forget about his existence. but again, why did you care?

yuuji peeks at both of your reactions and frowns. he didn’t like this one bit. at best, sukuna was just being his usual rude self to you. at worst, something was happening between his best friend and his older brother… eughhh. the thought made him writhe a little. he knew that nothing good would come out of it for either of you. growing up with a brother like sukuna.. he knew how he could get. 

“i hate you so much! you’re pushing dad away!” sukuna throws the first thing he sees at the woman in front of him. her eyes are dim with guilt. “ryomen, you know it’s not like that..” her words fall in nothingness, and she falters. what could she say? her red fingernails fumble with the button on her suitcase. “you’re throwing us away! you’re leaving me and yuuji for that ugly stupid man!” he screams in anger, but tears are flowing heavily over his bruised face. yuuji watched as his brother berated their mother, helpless. he wanted to tell him to stop, that this was too much.. he shut his eyes tightly and imagined the day before, when they were going out for ice cream instead. the giggles they had, his mother wiping his chubby chin with her sleeve, the game of hide and seek he and his brother shared at the neighborhood park. “yuuji, my messy boy,” his mother cooed, eyes crinkling with a smile. her blouse billowed with the summer wind. heavy footsteps broke the evocation, and from the crack of the door he saw another figure. no! he clamped his tiny hands over his ears until they went white, knees to his nose. the smell of his mother’s perfume in the dark closet helped him go back– to tune out the muffled sounds of fighting. the voices of his mother, his grandpa, and that man ebbed away. slowly, he drifted, his mind crystal blue.. the only thought left was the taste of chocolate and his mother’s soft caress; a silent requiem.

yeah, fuck that. and fuck him for trying to mess around with your head.

yuuji throws a dorito at you. you make a sound of annoyance and throw one of your own in retaliation. he giggles. “wanna go get banana milk?” you stretch your arms above your head with a yawn, cracking your fingers. “yeah, we could use some fresh air.” he hops up immediately and goes to put on his shoes. “hey, ryo, we’re going to the convenience store for milk, be back soon!” he yells from below the stairs. you hear him give a grunt of acknowledgement from above and you both make your way to take your minds off things. it wasn’t just physics that lay heavy on your hearts.

as soon as sukuna’s saw yuuji’s text that he would be studying with “a friend”, he was already speeding through his last repair at the shop. choso, his cousin-slash-coworker, nearly yells at him with the speed he was screwing the bolts back in on the vehicle. no matter. he’d done this same shit a million times over, it was like clockwork. he changed out of the oily uniform and got on his bike before he could get a proper scolding. he shoots a reply.

“bringing groceries. be there in 20.”

he tucks his phone away before yuuji could deny him. and just like that, he was lumbering to the elevator of yuuji’s complex with a giant load of bags in each hand. it was insanely efficient, if he said so himself( sukuna was conveniently leaving out the part where he switched out his bike and borrowed satoru’s camaro to make the aforementioned grocery trip, but he digresses). 

he entered the apartment with a little difficulty, but it was worth it when he saw the mary janes sitting neatly on the shoe rack.

when he sets the bags on the counter, he looks to the living room to see you looking at him with that gorgeous face of yours. something about your complexion was so naturally saccharine, like you radiated sunlight.

he raises his hand to give a small wave but falters midway seeing your expression flip, snapping away from his gaze with your face flushed with an emotion he couldn’t decipher.

sukuna was mildly confused. weren’t you on new terms since that night? not even a bit?

“got your shit, yuu,” the kid throws a thumbs up.

as he takes off his jacket, he finds himself glancing repeatedly at your now-nervous form. he couldn’t help feel a little irritated. sukuna was seemingly the only one exempt from your natural state, for whatever reason(sukuna’s aloofness to the fact 1. you both met officially only two weeks ago and 2. the amount of times he’s argued with you, was borderline insane). 

you were wearing a different set of ribbons today, a pale lavender in hue. he wondered how many more were in your collection. the outfit you wore was simple but flattering, albeit he couldn’t see it properly.

a chuckle rumbles his throat when his focus shifts to see your face was almost entirely inside the tray of chips, doing anything to avoid small-talk he assumed.

his brother was slumped on the other side of the table as well, and he just shakes his head. it always was hard to tutor yuuji, the little brat was just so hyper. he says a silent prayer for you and walks up the stairs without another word.

he’d talk to you tonight eventually, he would make sure of that.

the street was mostly empty and dark, save for the streetlights marking your path back. the trip was fairly short but you and yuuji were walking at a leisurely pace, sipping on the tiny drinks. yuuji hesitates to ask you about sukuna, so he settles for talking about the party. 

“so how’d you like the party? i was totally shitfaced, so i never got to ask you,” he joyfully perked up. you sigh and look at him with a small accusatory smile. “yeah, you totally left me in the dust, whore. the party was okay, i guess. i did meet this cool guy,” you began. 

yuuji ooh’s and bumps your shoulder with his. “well, don’t just say that and stop! tell me more,” he eggs you on in a lilty tone. “actually, he said he knew you. his name was suguru,” yuuji snaps and shakes a finger in the air. “yeah i do! he’s super chill, one of sukuna’s frat brothers. he’s the vp for the fraternity!” your eyebrows lift in surprise a little. “oh wow. i didn’t know he was the vp,” you murmured, taking the information in thoughtfully. so suguru was more than just affiliated, he was practically running the show. and he was close with sukuna, which was kind of unfortunate. so much for having an interest in someone decent. “yup! he doesn’t seem the type, but he does a good job. or so i’ve been told by gojo and ryo,” he laughs, taking another sip. 

“sooo… anything i missed at the party?” you were hoping he wouldn’t ask, but you assumed it would’ve come up eventually. you nod and sigh, looking up at the dark sky. yuuji slows down to a stop, brows cinched together. “something bad happened?” his voice drops to a lower, more serious tone. 

“when you guys left, i ended up bumping into this really sleazy guy.. i guess he was trying to flirt with me?” you began. 

yuuji looked visibly enraged, his eyes twitching. “go on.” 

“he didn’t end up doing anything crazy because megumi came, but he did.. grope me.” you mumbled. 

this was so stupid, you genuinely wanted to forget it even happened. you hadn’t put a ton of thought on the event until you recounted it, and it left a pit in your stomach. 

yuuji crushed the milk carton in his hand and started walking faster. “i’m calling suguru and figuring out who the fuck that was, there is NO WAY–” 

your eyes widen as his usually innocent and sunshine personality switches to an aggressive demeanor. you catch up to him and stop him from starting a second round of fighting. man, maybe yuuji was related to sukuna– the way both of them reacted instantly was too alike. 

“wait! oh my god, hold on!” your hands push into his chest and he looks at you incredulously. “he got beat up at the party! he got what he deserved,” yuuji looked properly confused. 

“megumi never told me he beat up someone, what?” 

“it wasn’t megumi, yuu! it was sukuna.” 

his face dropped the confusion and something unreadable replaced it. “...oh, i see. he saw that shit happen to you then?” 

your face blanched. you didn’t think about that. did sukuna just watch you get assaulted? you wracked your brain to figure out the chronological order of events, but the adrenaline in the memory made everything a blur. “i.. i don’t know, maybe!”

yuuji’s face hardened.  “and he did nothing to stop it?” 

you had to defend sukuna, he literally beat up the slimeball for you. there was definitely something you were missing, but you didn’t know what. your voice was wavering. “megumi stopped it, so it’s fine, yuu! can we drop it now? please?” 

yuuji notices that this was getting hard for you to talk about, and his anger for his brother was getting displaced onto you. he softens, shoulders untensing. “I’m sorry, [name]. that was shitty of me to grill you.” he looks away, a guilty look falling on him. you wrap your arms around his torso and squeeze lightly. “it’s okay, yuu. i know you’re just worried for me. i really appreciate it.” he squeezes you back tighter. “i feel horrible that i was trashed and did nothing to help you. that’s so not what a best friend should do,” he says into your hair. you sigh, cheek pressed on his chest. “seriously, i don’t blame you. i just.. don’t know how to feel about it yet, so be patient with me.” he squeezes you tighter. “i’m gonna be here for you always, babe. nobara, megs, all of us okay? if you ever need to talk about it don’t hesitate. i love you so much,” your heart swells with warmth. you knew how much your friends cared for you, you never had a doubt about it. “you’re gonna make a bitch cry, yuuji, seriously,” you fake punch him in the stomach and he doubles over groaning, playing along. “now, i’m going to teach you that physics problem and you’re going to understand it,” you pull away from his chest to shake a strict finger at him, lips quirking in a smile. he gives you a firm salute and starts bounding to the apartments. “sir yes sir!” 

when you entered the flat again, you make a beeline towards the bathroom upstairs. you hadn’t noticed your eyes got teary enough to smudge your makeup during your heart to heart with yuuji. he was bent over with laughter when he showed your raccoon face to you in his phone’s front camera, earning him a smack. 

you’re looking down at your own phone as you walk up the stairs to take a better look, when you’re met with a wall you didn’t notice before. or wait.. a firm surface? sukuna has an arm propped on the wall before the bathroom, and he was looking straight down at you. 

your face goes red immediately, and you can’t back up because you’d end up tumbling down the stairs. a weird checkmate. “so what’s with you avoiding– why are your eyes like that?” his eyebrows go from serious to confused. you frown up at him and start wiping at them. “is it really that bad? god…” a rough hand holds your chin and pushes your head up, the other rubbing under your eye gently with his thumb. 

“you cryin’, sweetheart?”

his voice rumbled in a whisper, breath on fanning on your lips. your heart was pounding so hard in your ears you barely heard him. you were so close you could see his stubble, the scar on his upper lip, even the intricacy of his neck tattoo. 

“no, i wasn’t, well– actually i was, but not for the reason you think-”

 your eyes drift to the bathroom door as you ramble until the hand that was holding your chin is now wrapped around the small of your back, just shy of your ass. 

you shut up. 

he smirks.

“alright, you just look like a panda then. now, are you gonna tell me why you're avoiding me?”

 your face pulls into a mild glower. “i’m not avoiding you, what?” 

“yeah, you are. didn’t say hi to me.” your hands press on his chest to ease from the proximity. you notice he’s wearing a wife pleaser like the first day you met him. what was your mind going to? your eyes flick back up quickly and narrow at him. 

“we’re not even friends, why would i say hi to you?” 

his head leans closer to yours, noses almost touching. "didn't yuuji tell you to get along with me?"

 you glare. "he never said that, asshole." 

sukuna gave you a vexed look. did you expect him to remember the words verbatim? "okay, he said some bullshit about warming up to each other! god, you're so difficult." 

"me? difficult?” a scoff leaves your lips. all you could think was that the audacity of this man was unbelievable. “you are literally cornering me to talk to me!" you gesture to the position you were both in, but he didn’t seem to budge.

sukuna huffs, almost petulantly. you try to push him away, but the grip of his hand on your back wasn’t letting you go. he didn’t get the answer he needed from you, and he wasn’t going to let you leave without it. between the party and now, something had happened for you to act so differently. you were so soft and open with him that night, but now? it was back to square one. 

“...you’re still in the way! seriously sukuna, what do you want from me?” you were exasperated at this point. his insistence would be endearing, if he wasn’t such a major fuckwad. honestly, out of every girl he could have bothered, he had to choose you? where was that other girl he was so stuck to anyway? why couldn’t he have just called her instead of holding you hostage and bombarding you with questions about your attitude? your irritation was growing, and his lack of response only proved to increase your frustration. why was he just looking at you?

sukuna was wracking his brain to form a coherent thought after you dropped that bomb on him. what did he want from you? this was unlike him to chase after a girl, and to almost harass her over a simple ‘hi’? he was obsessed over what? fucking hello kitty band-aids. he’s barely keeping his hands off of you with the way you were staring at him, assessing his every feature. your cheeks were puffed and rosy, your eyes still blotchy with mascara but god, you looked so perfect standing before him. he wanted to kiss you. he wanted to kiss you so bad. he wanted to kiss you that night when you told him his eyes were sanguine red. what the fuck did that even mean? he had to look that shit up and lo and behold, it was the perfect shade match. you were so fucking smart it pissed him off. he enjoyed riling you up by telling you otherwise. he wanted to yank those lavender ribbons out of your hair and never give them back. it was so perverse; the way he was holding you wasn’t enough for him. you smelled like honey and sandalwood, he couldn’t get that out of his head ever since you rode behind him on his motorcycle. he wanted his bed to smell like you. he longed to wake up there and it would be the first thing to hit his senses. this was testing his restraint in ways he didn’t know existed. he knew he couldn’t cross that line, this was mental to even consider doing! what was doing him in so badly?? even he didn’t know what had gotten into him. all he knew was that he felt a little more than just irked you were taking precautions to avoid interaction, especially when he was dying internally to merely hold your gaze.

 “y’know, i really need to go to the bathroom, so if you have nothing to say to me, i’m leaving. stick to teasing other girls.” a pregnant pause. his face fell at your last sentence, it definitely held some edge on your tone. sukuna shifted, a hand going up to your cheek. you scrunch your brows in flushed inquisition. he looks to the side before bringing his eyes back to you. they appeared poignant, almost wistful. you weren’t able to discern why, though. his voice was more delicate this time.

“..did you feel–”

“you okay babe?” yuuji’s voice from below snaps both of you out of your heated exchange. sukuna’s hands drop from you like they never belonged there to begin with. you take the opportunity to finally go to the bathroom, accidentally shouldering sukuna as you push past him. yuuji’s worried expression immediately becomes one of annoyance as he watches his brother come down instead, sourness cast on his rough face. “are you kidding me? what was that about?” yuuji had his arms crossed, jaw ticking. sukuna halts and turns to face him. “mind your fuckin’ business, brat.” yuuji bites back an insult, opting to check up on you instead. he knew he couldn’t start something with sukuna when you were home as well. 

yuuji knocks on the door of the bathroom. “did sukuna say anything to you?” you were in the middle of splashing water to cool your flaming cheeks. “no, it’s fine! don’t even worry,” you call back loudly, drying your face in a manner that was definitely too rough on the skin. 

your mind was racing with images of sukuna, his lips, the feel of him holding you, his cologne stuck in your nose– coming to do physics at the apartment was supposed to be a distraction from what was going on between you two. how come when you threw yourself more into your work, this idiot would weasel his way back to you! 

you look at yourself in the mirror and you cringe at the sight. yikes. the combination of no makeup and your blotchiness was not the best. as you go to pick up your phone from the counter, you see the time flash. 2:35AM. you were an hour past the time you wanted to leave, you had an 8am that next day. technically, it was already the next day.. you wince. sighing and opening the door, and there was yuuji. “i know i said we need to finish the problems, but i’m really tired yuu,” you admit with a nervous laugh. “i have anatomy and physiology at 8 tomorrow, and i can totally explain it to you at lunch! right?” this had got to be the lamest excuse. coming from you, the person who never avoided doing work, it was suspicious to say the least. the morning class was buyable, but procrastination was not in your vocabulary. yuuji suffered firsthand from you about it. he raises a brow. “aaalright, no worries. don’t have to tell me twice.” he laughs back weakly. this was becoming extremely awkward. both of you were acting off and the silence that followed did not help either of your cases. “okay! so i’m just gonna head home, get my things, yup!” your voice was weirdly pitchy and before yuuji could question it, you were already down the stairs in a blast. “wha– girl, it's way too dark out!” he calls after you. 

you start collecting your computer and belongings into your tote bag, quickly moving. you almost trip over while putting on your shoes, slipping them on carelessly. sukuna had rounded the corner from the kitchen upon hearing your commotion, yuuji on his tail. “whoa, you’re goin’ now? it’s too late at night, let me–” you throw a hand in sukuna’s face. “you’re not giving me a ride, i brought my car.” having another experience of prolonged close proximity with him in the same night was too much for you to handle. besides, this time you thankfully had a saving grace. barely. “at least let me walk you down, it’s dark as hell outside.” sukuna looked sincere in his concern, but yuuji was eyeing him indignantly. “you okay with that, babe?” yuuji gives you a face that says it was okay to say no, but you nod your head in reassurance. “yeah, it’s fine. i’ll see you tomorrow, yuu.” you blow him a small kiss with your two fingers like you usually did, and he mirrors it back. sukuna puts on the first pair of shoes he sees, already halfway out the door when you turn back around. he gestures to you to get a move on with his head, earning an eye roll from you. 

you walk out and he closes the door behind you, giving yuuji one last wave. the walk down to your car was wordless, and sukuna didn't look at you once. better than him looking at you fervently, you suppose. when you step into the driver’s seat and reach to close the door, he stops you. his tall figure crouches down to meet your level, now meeting your gawking stare. again? 

“you didn’t let me finish earlier.” 

your eyes dart to the console, fingers fidgeting. “okay, out with it then,” you mumbled. 

“i wanted to ask you if you felt the same shit i felt that night when you told me that stuff about my eyes.” 

his body language was firmly attentive to you, but his voice had a weird waver to it. he remembered what you said about his eyes? what did he mean, feel the same shit? the silver chain around his neck dangled between the both of you, glinting in the streetlight as it moved. you noticed he was breathing deeply. nervously? what the fuck. “what are you talking about?” he silently cursed and readjusted his footing, clearly uncomfortable with the fact he needed to spell it out. he wasn’t exactly in touch with his emotions. “you really are the most difficult fuckin’ girl i’ve ever met, fuckin’ hell. just tell me what you meant by it.” you peer at him from the side of your eyes, trying to search his face. you were pretty confused at what he was trying to get at overall, but you just answered his question. “nothing. your eyes are just sanguine red. i like that color.” his lips quirk up and he angles his head at you. “you like my eyes?” your face flames. “i said i liked the color! what is it with you and mishearing people?” you throw back. with a huff you turn the key to turn on the engine, which prompted him to move out of the way so you could shut the door, him laughing at your irritation. he knocks on the window and motions you to lower it. you oblige angrily. 

“you literally have 10 seconds or i swear to god i’m running over your toes.” you seethe. 

his stupidly handsome face was just egging you on. his hair was tousled, the wind breezing through it gently and he looked unfairly good. you shivered with the chill going up your neck. he licks his lips and you watch it shamelessly. he notes this. 

“just tellin’ you that you got lucky with your car today. whenever you think about getting an uber, don’t. you’re not getting in a car with any other man besides me.” 

your heart skips a beat. nope, that was just a palpitation. your heart does not skip for sukuna, you did not consent to it. before you can register it, he flicks your nose with a grin. you rapidly blink, enlisting more cackles out of him. you punch him in the arm before he’s running back to the apartments. “not fucking happening!” you yell after him, head sticking out of your window. you fume all the way home, your music turned up to drown out the pounding in your chest. 

when sukuna opens the door, he’s met with a really pissed off yuuji. “you need to leave [name] alone, ryomen.” sukuna knew this was coming given that he witnessed your altercation to a certain degree, but he was definitely overreacting. he’s kicking his shoes off and trudges to the couch, unbothered. 

“i’m not doing shit to her, yuu. it’s just teasing.” 

sukuna leans to grab the remote off the table when yuuji grabs it instead. “i’m fucking serious. stop fucking around with my friends.” 

sukuna looks up at him with a raised brow, jaw flexed. “i said, i’m not doing shit to her.” 

yuuji laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “i’m not four anymore, ryo. i can see what you’re doing and you need to quit now.” he jabs a finger on his brother’s chest, which garners him to stand up and face him, his height paralleling yuuji’s. sukuna was just as irritated now. looking down at yuuji, he takes a moment before he speaks so it doesn’t end up in curses. 

“you forget you’re speaking to your aniki, brat.” he grits through his teeth, fists balled up on either side of him, shoulders tense. 

yuuji’s eyes narrow. “she doesn’t need someone like you fucking her life up, ryomen. i don’t care if we’re brothers, if you toy with her and she ends up hurt, i’m killing you.” 

sukuna suddenly gives him a shove to the chest. “and you need to mind your fuckin’ business like i told you to!” 

yuuji’s face flashes with mild shock at sukuna getting physical, backing up with a stutter. “so what, you’re gonna fucking hit me now? what is wrong with you lately!” yuuji throws his hands up in the air and paces the room intensely. 

sukuna’s stony face falters, his arms relaxing. what was he doing?

 “you always do this shit! you talk about respecting women and you can’t seem to fucking treat one right! is it because of mom? how much longer are you going to hold on to that?!” 

sukuna begins to bound towards him to give him a real piece of his mind but yuuji throws the remote on the couch towards sukuna, cutting him off and gesturing aggressively. “but you know what? that’s not my shit to figure out. if you want to distract yourself from your baggage, that’s fine by me, but like i said, [name] deserves SO much more than someone like you.” he spat, chest heaving from his tirade. “i’m going to bed. you can see yourself out.” the younger itadori brother’s stomps fade into the apartment as the other is left speechless, thoughts muddy with guilt and a reopened wound.

the next day you had plans to meet with nobara at the university coffee shop, which made you mildly uneasy. with your permission, yuuji had told nobara about the party situation and her reaction was similar to his, and she had approached you at lunch to talk about it. it went rather smoothly so you didn’t feel so horrible about retelling your thoughts– nobara just understood.

what you hadn’t told her was the events of yesterday with sukuna, and those were definitely going to be coaxed out of you over coffee. she had a knack for making you empty your guts with her. it was her evil superpower, you say.  your shoes clack on the tile floor of the small joint that resided by your university as you made your way inside, head flitting to search for your redhead. it was a cozy spot, mostly run by employees that were also students at the university. the owners were an old couple that were alumni and had the place built on the courtyard spot they had first met at. the story was widely known by students and carried the spirit of the place, pictures of them and other former students littering the walls. you found it absolutely adorable as a hopeless romantic. you finally spot nobara waving at you by a window table and make your way towards her. “you look cute today, any special occasion?” you shrug, a small smile on your lips. “it’s 10 degrees warmer today, so i decided to celebrate.” “well i’m loving the skirt, don’t be surprised when i borrow it.” you giggle, sticking your tongue at her. “you mean steal, not borrow.” nobara pretends to weigh the two words with her hands. “steal, borrow, it’s all very subjective babe.” you set your bag down on the chair next to yours, a stray piece of hair falling in front of your face in the process. “hey, you.” your head spins to where you heard the deep voice and finds a tall black-haired man. “oh hi, suguru!”

nobara looks at you with a question mark on her face, eyes flicking to him and then you. you give her a little “stop it!” look with your eyes, hoping he didn’t see it. geto was awfully observant and a smooth talker to boot, so you were generally screwed much to your oblivion.

he leans a hand on the back of your chair and tucks the stray hair piece behind your ear. “you look pretty as per usual,” his grin was mind melting. your clothes suddenly felt too warm even though they were the most ventilating pieces you owned. you throw a hand in flattery at him, gushing. “oh stop, you’re too sweet!”

if nobara didn’t have questions before, she certainly did now. from the corner of your eye you could see her gaping at the scene unfolding before her.

you feel embarrassed with the display you had created and changed the subject quickly. “oh, this is nobara, by the way. you probably didn’t see her at the party but she was the one with the green haired girl.” suguru snaps and points at her. “you were the one fucking up the dance floor! i remember,” he sticks a hand out and nobara shakes it firmly, a too-sugary smile plastered on her lips. you could tell she was assessing the guy to his very bones.

“that’s me! and the girl with me was my girlfriend maki.” suguru nods in recollection. “well it’s nice to officially meet you, outside of the frat stuff! it can be a lot sometimes," he glances back at you and frowns apologetically. “which is technically why i came over to talk. i really wanted to say sorry for what went down. the pres, todo, is handling mahito’s consequences so i hope that reassures you,” he looks at you with a face of worry and concern.

“i’m glad not all frats are shitty,” nobara tells him vaguely, code for “thanks for doing your fucking job for once”. he chuckles nervously and nods in thanks. “well, i’ll leave you guys to your coffee now. sorry again,” he pats your head and beams, vanishing out the door with a jingle of the bell overhead. instantly, nobara slammed questions down back to back in hushed screams. “what the fuck was that?! and he tucked your hair? what is this, bridgerton? you didn’t freaking tell me about meeting a GUY at the party, you bitch!” you begged her to quiet down as people started paying attention to the wild hand movements she was doing. nobara, oh my god please! it’s been literally two days!” “yeah, two days of girl code betrayal! i needed to know this shit like yesterday!” she squealed at you and shook your shoulders. you wince at the bombardment and wave an imaginary flag of surrender.

“okay, okay fine! at least let me order my coffee?” she abruptly stops for a moment and notices that you in fact had nothing in front of you. “oh em gee i didn’t even peep that, my bad.” she holds her hands together in a “please forgive me” position. you both immediately burst into giggles. “buy me a cookie?” “you got it.”

you walk up the register and ask for your favorite drink and nobara’s cookie. the girl that took your order was really nice to you for some reason, but you weren’t complaining. she was giggling a lot when she rang you up, which was odd but.. okay.

“your boyfriend is so sweet, by the way. i wish mine tried half as much,”

ohhhh. she must’ve seen you and suguru talking. you let out a small laugh and brush it off. “oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” you say. her brows furrow in confusion. “the pink haired guy with tattoos? he literally told me to give this to his girl in green ribbons!”

you notice there’s a pain au chocolat on the bill that you didn’t put down. pink hair.. there’s really just two choices in that description. you flip around to see if yuuji or sukuna were around, and from the outside of the cafe in the courtyard, you see sukuna leaned on the bricks, smoking. he gives you a small wave, cigarette in hand. you roll your eyes in disgust and ignore him. insistent asshole and a nicotine addict, great.

you turn back to the girl and give her a nervous smile, awkwardly accepting the free pastry. you didn’t tell nobara about the occurrence because you could handle only so much whiplash from shaking in one day. she just took it as another freebie from you and ate it happily.

you rub your temples and sigh. something tells you you’re going to have to be a lot firmer with sukuna going forward.

ahh! this was lowk a pain to format but i hope you loved it :) also, some people wanted to be in a taglist!! here they are:

@kawliflo @deepcloudspyhairdo just so i don't lose track, my taglist will tag you for any of my works! if you choose to opt out, please message/inbox :) also, i will cap it eventually! don't worry about this because i cross-post on ao3, and they also have a subscribe feature that can notify you when i post :)

peace luv bathtub!!!

© sozila 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posted on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part nineteen

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

status: in progress // masterlist

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

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 10k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sucked.

Rode.

All of the above.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ain’t shit stopping that.

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, what?”

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

Fair. Very fair. “Okay.”

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

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

“We’re going to Disney after Mania.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you don’t like it.

You don’t like it at all.

———-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To reclaim your narrative.

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

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

It’s not a good look.

Clearly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The deal…..

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

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

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

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

Avoidance makes justification a hell of a lot easier. 

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

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

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

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

A mistake….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being your saving grace. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A child. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you….are you happy, Jadah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because it was always supposed to be.

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

———-

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

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

It’s admirable. 

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

Well, sort of.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knuck if you buck boy

Knuck if you buck boy

Knuck if you buck boy

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

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

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

Yeah we knuckin' and buckin' and ready to fight

I betcha I'm'a throw dem thangs

So haters best to think twice

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

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

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

“Why does this say we’re live?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jadah.”

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

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

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

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

“Jadah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, go ahead, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god—”

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

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

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

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

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

A lot of apologies as well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

We lift our hands in the sanctuary.

We lift our hands to give You the glory.

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

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

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

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

You almost spit out your food. “Jadah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jadah, oh my god, stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jadah, how is that tame?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strangers only bonded by loss.

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

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

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

Damn. 

What a final question.

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

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

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

“You’re going to like this one!”

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

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

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

“Hmmm, maybe Chinese?”

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

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

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

“Jadah!”

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Chapter 2

Finnick x Reader

Series Masterlist Link

I had some down time while my flight was delayed so here’s another chapter! Hopefully chapter 3 will come out in a few days but we shall see. Thanks for all the love on the first chapter!

Content warnings - flashback to prostitution assault and detailed descriptions of killing/death

You weren’t always known as a feral victor. Sure, some of your kills in the arena were a bit much, but it’s not uncommon to see that behavior in the games. It is a fight to the death after all. What is uncommon, however, is that literal fight continuing afterwards.

After the incident with the first doctor, which was kept quiet from the public at first, Snow believed you would still be of use from him. He thought the capital doctors could “fix you” and make you “civilized” again. He’s lucky he always had guards with him, or he would have ended up on your list.

Finnick, your mentor, thought that your post-arena violence might save you from his fate in the capital. He tried to convince Snow that it wasn’t a good idea to assign you clients, that you were unpredictable and things could go very wrong. Snow thought it would be fine.

“Sure she may put up a fight,” he told Finnick, “most of them do. But, I don’t think that should be an issue for her client. He could break her quite easily if he needed to.”

And break you he did, just not physically. It was you who did the physical breaking.

You didn’t mean to kill him, nor anyone else outside the arena, but his grotesque hands roaming your body triggered something deep inside you; a primal instinct you first felt in the arena. It was kill or be killed.

You tried to push through it. Snow had warned you what would happen to your family if you didn’t comply. But laying there being completely violated by this capital man broke the only pieces of you that had survived the arena. Your mind had convinced itself that you were out of options.

The man’s avox had phoned the police when she heard him scream, but they weren’t fast enough. He was so engrossed in his actions that he didn’t notice the way your eyes turned cold, or the way you stopped protesting.

Less than two minutes later, he was dead. You still can’t shake the feeling of his eyeballs under your nails, or the sound he made as you crushed his esophagus. The worst part was having to unattach yourself from him when the ordeal was over. You didn’t even protest when the police entered. They sedated you and carried you off, away from the scene of your crime.

Did you mean to kill him? No.

Do you regret it? Absolutely not.

The only thing you regret is coming out of that arena alive; but what’s done is done and there’s no going back.

Your prep team won’t go anywhere near you for the parade, which is quite the dilemma. How the hell were you supposed to get ready? You’re surprised a stylist designed something for you at all, or that they’re even letting you participate for that matter.

Apparently, your stylist didn’t design the outfit. He said that his mentor, Tigress, wanted to design something for you specifically but she is banned from the games so he volunteered to bring her design to you. He’s the first person in the capital who doesn’t seem terrified to be in your presence, but the peacekeepers still won’t let him near.

You’re forced to dress in front of the peacekeepers. They uncuff you at least but it’s still uncomfortable. You would strangle them all right now but unfortunately there would be consequences.

Snow paid you a visit last night. He told you exactly what would happen if you went “feral” before the games.

“We wouldn’t want Mr. Odair’s pedestal to malfunction while he was standing on it, would we?” he stated. “Or for Mrs. Flanagan to come down with a horrible illness. That would be quite unfortunate.”

You had to do everything possible to keep yourself under control, but even that could only help so much. The rage you felt inside was growing and it wasn’t calming down anytime soon.

“Why isn’t it ready yet?” the shrill voice of Linessa calls to the peacekeepers outside of your room.

“No prep team would touch her,” they tell her. “The tribute is getting herself dressed.”

“Move,” Finnick states as he pushes past the group to enter your room. You’re mostly clothed but are having issues with zipping up the back of your gown.

It’s a beautiful blue gown that hugs your skin before flaring out just below your hips. The stylist explained it as, “The image of a silent siren. A deeply misunderstood mythological creature of the ocean.”

Finnick slowly approaches, making sure you can see his hands.

“Can I help get you ready?” he asks. “We need to be out there soon.”

You nod and turn so he can zip up your dress. The feeling of his hands on your back causes you to tense up but you grit your teeth and remind yourself it’s just Finnick.

Practically grinding your teeth dull, you let Finnick do a simple makeup look on you to match your outfit. You wish you could give him an outfit instead of a net but neither you nor Mags have a say in the matter. You especially don’t.

Finnick is especially careful not to touch the scar that runs down the side of your face. You got it during your games and the capital doctors refused to polish it off after you killed one with a scalpel for taking your temperature. You wish you had the temperament to let him cover it up with the makeup but you know it would set you off.

When he’s done, the peacekeepers come and recuff your wrists but leave your feet free so you don’t trip in the dress.

“She doesn’t need those,” Finnick tells them.

“I’m sorry Mr. Odair but these are direct orders from Snow,” they state.

“Will you remove them before the parade?” he asks.

“No,” they state. Mags whispers something to Finnick and he nods in understanding before approaching you slowly.

“Hey,” he calmly states. “I need to go talk to some people before the parade. Stay with Mags and I’ll come get you before we start.” You nod and he leaves.

The peacekeepers force you and Mags out to where the chariots are, but make you stay along the edge of the stables where they can keep an eye on you. They wouldn’t want any of the “excitement” to start before the games begin.

You can see Finnick talking to Katniss, last year’s victor. You don’t really know any of the other victors besides Finnick and Mags. They know all about you, of course, but none of them care enough to get to know you. The only one who has ever spoken to you (over the phone of course) is Johanna Mason of District 7. She’s pretty close with Finnick and they talk all the time. You would be jealous if Finnick didn’t practically live at your place and spend all his time with you. Plus Johanna hates people.

“Hey feisty!” you hear Johanna call as she approaches you. Finnick has shown you pictures of her but outside of that and watching her games you had only ever heard her voice. The peacekeepers move to block her but one glare from her sends them away. “How’s life outside of your cell?”

You give her a thumbs down and she laughs in response, catching the attention of the other tributes.

“Well I give it double thumbs down,” she states.

“Johanna!” you hear a male yell. “Get your ass over here.”

“Ugh Blight’s calling,” Johanna groans. “See ya later feisty!”

You think you’re done socializing for today when you’re approached by a young blond boy. He doesn’t protest when the peacekeepers keep him five feet away.

“Hi y/n,” he states. “I’m Peeta. I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

You give him a blank stare as you study him. Something about you feels like he’s harmless, but you can’t be too sure.

“Ah Melark,” Gloss booms as he approaches the boy. “Don’t take it personal. Feral doesn’t talk.”

It’s clear these two haven’t met before as Peeta looks a bit scared of the career. You’d met Gloss once before your games as he was your allies’ mentor, but you haven’t spoken in years. Him and Finnick aren’t close.

“Oh, uh I’m sorry,” Peeta stutters. He glances over his shoulder to see Finnick flirting with Katniss. “Uh nice to meet you I guess.”

Peeta looks harmless, but looks can be deceiving. Katniss, on the other hand, looks like trouble.

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[honnelander]

I CAME AS SOON AS I SAW THE POST

can we get a little snippet of go fish!reader maybe reading Pride and Prejudice aloud to Zoro after he had been struck down by Mihawk, like how Nami did, and Sanji over hearing and just staying by the door to listen to her read or something? i think a little blurb like that would be so cute

AHHH CUUUUTE!! i modified this a bit to have it fit into the overall story's timeline. instead of Zoro being struck down by Mihawk, he's sick and bedridden. thank you for this :))

here's go fish!Sanji listening to you reading:

masterlist

"Ohhh Zoro," you quietly squealed, trying your best to keep your voice down from disturbing a very ill and bedridden Zoro from waking. "Are you ready for this? Oh my god, this is another one of my favorite parts," you gushed, sighing dreamily as you put your very loved and well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice on your lap before hurriedly picking it up again to continue reading aloud to your friend in his room.

"I'm in love with you, most ardently," you read, voice quiet enough and full of wistfulness.

As you continued to read the story, your voice going up and down in excitement as you read the scene aloud, Sanji could hear your quiet gushing from the hallway. He was carrying a small tray of food, two bowls of his special homemade chicken soup sitting right in the middle, one for Zoro and another for you since he knew you'd spent all afternoon reading to the sick swordsman and figured you must be hungry by this point as well.

With careful steps, he silently stood right behind the doorway as he listened to your soothing voice bring the words that were printed on the page of your favorite book to life with a small smile on his face. The blonde cook closed his eyes for a minute, letting the sound of your voice wash over him as he admired you without you ever knowing.

He leaned his shoulder on the doorframe right outside of Zoro's room, gently resting the side of his head against it as well, as his mind wandered for a second, getting lost in the story.

Apparently, it was the part in the story where Mr. Darcy was confessing his love to Elizabeth, but as he listened further, he realized that it wasn't the end of the story where they both confessed their feelings mutually, it was more in the beginning where Mr. Darcy's sentiments were one-sided and Sanji couldn't help but feel a sort of kinship with the fictional man.

While the situation he was in with you wasn't as dramatic as Jane Austen's creation (if there even was a 'situation', he thought dejectedly), the feelings he had for you were certainly real and very complicated.

Was he in love with you? He wasn't entirely sure, but he did like you, much more than a friend should. He had feelings that he only had for you, and no one else. Sure, he's come to love the rest of the crew and Nami too, but none of them could make him feel the things that he only seemed to experience with you.

Suddenly, he wondered how he would confess these sentiments to you one day. Would he pull a Mr. Darcy and just walk into your room one night, spilling out his heart's desires for you in a single breath because if he didn't, he might not have the courage to tell you otherwise? Telling you the thoughts that consistently plagued his mind, trying to sort them out aloud in front of you because they were driving him mad like poor Mr. Darcy? Or would he plan something out and take his time? Wait until he understood what he felt because he 'wanted to get it right'?

Sanji didn't know, it was too soon to tell... but what he did know was that if he stood out there loitering any longer, the soup would get cold and the chef in him would rather die than serve you something like that.

Coincidently, it seemed like the chapter had just ended, you letting out a lighthearted sigh as you softly commented to Zoro, "Ok Zoro, now wasn't that chapter just... extraordinary?"

"It certainly was, Missus," Sanji commented cheekily, suppressing a smile as best he could as he walked into the room.

"Oh! Sanji!" you gasped as your hand quickly covered your racing heart. "Jeez, you scared me." You watched as Sanji placed the tray of soups onto the nightstand. "Sorry. I, uh, didn't realize I was reading so loudly I attracted an audience," you said, your cheeks heating up slightly at the thought that Sanji had been listening to you for who knows how long.

"'Sorry'?" Sanji repeated, a slight frown on his face momentarily as looked down at the tray, glancing at you over his shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry for, my love." Once the tray was secured on the nightstand, he fully turned to face you, his hands in his pockets as he put on his most charming smile. "Now," he started smoothly, "I'm starting to think that maybe I should get sick so you can come and read to me in bed all day."

Sanji's smile only grew as he watched your face become even more flushed at his words.

You laughed slightly, eyes darting away from his as you asked, "Don't you mean when you're bedridden?"

There was a long pause, the silence becoming deafening at your question. You could feel the tension in the room become thicker the longer that Sanji stayed quiet. Your hands started to feel slightly clammy as your heart rate picked up.

You swallowed. "You know, instead of 'in bed'... since you'd be sick and everything?" you asked finally, as you mustered up the courage to look back up at Sanji from your chair.

At his expression, your heart skipped a beat. Sanji was still looking at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief (and sincerity?) and another emotion you didn't understand, a soft smile on his face. You couldn't help but feel like Sanji knew what he said and that he had said it on purpose.

His crooked smile only deepened. "Sure," he agreed simply. "When I'm sick and ill, and completely bedridden." He blinked, inhaling a small breath as he looked down at his shoes for a moment before looking back up at you, a small questioning look in his eyes as he quietly asked, "And you'd do that? Come and read to me all day?"

"Of course," you answered without hesitation, frowning slightly at Sanji believing that you wouldn't do for even a moment. "I would do anything to help you feel better, Sanji."

Now, between the two of you, it was pretty obvious that Sanji was the smooth-talking flirt, with you never really outrightly flirting with him in the conventional sense, but wow, you might as well be labeled the biggest flirt in his mind because your kind, thoughtful words and gestures never failed to make his heart flutter and knees go weak.

And the way you would look at him, time and time again, whenever you would gently reassure him that yes, you did indeed care about him and that you never truly forgot him... it was enough for him to feel his heart nearly explode.

There it was again, your kind, thoughtful, and beautiful expression on full display for him as you looked up at him through your lashes.

And just like that, Sanji's fears were completely washed away.

He let out a slight laugh, turning his face to the side, his blonde bangs facing you to try and hide the very faint blush on his cheeks. "Aw, you're too kind to me, Missus." He looked back at you, his rosy glow fading slightly, however, his smile was still bright. "Thank you."

At seeing Sanji happy, you were happy. You returned his smile and with a slight teasing tone you said, "But I'll only read to you if you promise to read to me when I'm in bed, sick and completely bedridden."

The blonde chef laughed lightly again, partly because of your now little inside joke, but because the thought that you even had to ask him if he 'would ever do that for you' was completely absurd. Of course he would. He would've been reading to you from the moment you were awake and not feeling well, all the way until you were sleeping, and even then he would continue to recite the pages of the book you loved aloud while you slept, so your dreams and subconscious mind were filled with the sound of his voice well into the night.

Sanji would do anything for you. And you never even needed to ask.

But he didn't tell you all that, not wanting to freak you out with his intense train of thought, so he simply said, with a small smile and twinkle in his eye, "Consider it done."

From Sanji's right, the sound of bedsheets rustling caught both of your attention.

Zoro groaned, gingerly opening his eyes as he pulled his blanket closer to himself. "Ugh... waiter? What are you doing here?"

Sanji looked down at him, a hint of concern on his pretty features as he replied, "Ah, Mosshead, you're awake. I, uh, thought I'd do a little room service and bring some soup for you and y/n."

At hearing your name, Zoro opened his eyes again. "Y/n?" He slowly turned his head towards you. "What are you-" he started to ask but when he saw the book on your lap he groaned and covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. "Oh don't tell me- you've been reading that garbage to me while I was sleeping this whole time?"

But you weren't offended by his question. Instead, you laughed. "If you mean masterpiece then, yes. You're right. I had just gotten to the good part too!"

Zoro shifted in his bunk, getting comfortable. "Well, by all means, keep going," he deadpanned. In a more sincere tone he said, "I haven't slept this good in a while." But then, with a ghost of a smile, he added, "Your book is so boring it puts me right to sleep."

"Hey, a win is a win," you laughed joyfully. You looked up at Sanji for a second, wanting to share your little moment of happiness of Zoro wanting to continue reading with him.

But Sanji was already looking at you, eyebrows raised in surprise and a disbelieving closed-lipped smile on his face. His smile only grew at seeing the happiness you radiated, his eyes scanning over your face. "Well, in that case," he started as he made his way towards the door. "Let me excuse myself then. I wouldn't want to get in the way of your storytime, Mr. Mosshead."

As Sanji left the room and stepped out into the hall, he could hear you giggle at his 'Mr. Darcy' joke while Zoro grumbled, a sweet sense of satisfaction coming over him.

But before he went back to the kitchen to start on tonight's dinner prep, he loitered outside of Zoro's room again, leaning against the doorframe like he did moments earlier, out of view, so could listen to you read once more for a bit, a small, wistful smile on his face.

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[billyloomiswhore4]

Crazy for you | Chapter Four

Chapter four is here!!! send me requests for short drabbles and ill give you my take on it. i love when you guys ask me questions about my fics or send requests!!! anyways here it is.

Warnings: billy has a weird obsession with the way you smell, poor randy never gets the girl, smut next chapter!

-

He didn’t think he’d have to see you until third period, but when he steps into the hall after first period he sees you. You’re leaning against his locker, waiting for him.

He can’t stop thinking about the way you smelled. It was like vanilla body wash and honey, but with that underlying smell of girl. The one he smells on Sidney, but yours is different. It’s sweeter, more intoxicating.  He can’t get enough of it, god how he wants to just walk up to you and pull you into a hug, just so he can smell you again. It makes his head spin.

But he doesn’t instead he walks to his locker, attempting to ignore you. But you don’t move, and you don’t say anything, so he just ends up standing there next to his locker waiting for you.

“Hey?” he sounds confused, that's the games he’s decided to play, pretend like he was completely wasted.

“Hey.” Your voice sounds nervous, but still has anger laced in it. 

“You’re uh, standing in front of my locker.” He lets out a chuckle, and pretends not to know why you’re angry. 

“Yeah, I know.” You deadpan, eyes piercing daggers on his own. He stands there awkwardly for a moment, with his hands in his pockets. You suddenly say, “What are you playing at Billy?”

He stares at you for a moment, “What?”

“The other night? What was that?”  You’re outright angry now. He decides to put on a show for you. He sighs, and runs his hands through his hair. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t exactly remember what happened. I was kind of hammered.” He pushes out an awkward chuckle. 

“Oh,” Your face drops of all anger, and you seem embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I thought you- nevermind.” You push yourself off his locker and walk away. And he stares after you, a slight smirk on his lips. He praises himself in his mind for the act, and begins getting him stuff from his locker. 

–

The next time he sees you is actually third period. Usually you sit right next to him so you can pick his brain about whatever topic is the day's discussion. But today you sit on the other side of the classroom, next to Randy. It makes his heart ache, he loves your little talks. You always seem so interested in  what he has to say. Sidney never listens, she just talks to him and expects him to hang on to every word, he hates it and he hates her. 

He also hates Randy, especially when he’s looking at you like that. You seem deep in conversation with him, and when you laugh Billy clenches his fist. 

How could you be so oblivious, he understands why you can’t tell he likes you, he hides it. But Randy? He’s basically making heart eyes at you, and you have no idea. Sometimes he wishes he could just take what he wants, he’s impatient. But then he remembers the plan, and with the newfound information he received from your diary he knows it’s fool proof. 

He just needs to control himself, until tonight. They made a few changes to the plan last night, and it seems perfect. He just has to wait. 

You never realized Randy was so funny, but if you're being perfectly honest it seems like he saved up all his jokes and decided to just spew them at you all in one class. 

He says something stupid about the movie Halloween and you giggle, attempting to cover it up with your palm. He smiles, and flushes red when you put your hand on his arm to push him softly. 

Your smile fades quickly, “You okay there? You're really red.”

“Yeah- yeah I'm good, just a little hot.” He sputters, and his voice cracks at the end. He laughs it off and you smile at him and continue your conversation.  

—

The school day passes quicker than normal, lunch was a bore and before you know it you’re sitting in your bed, watching some random horror movie. You had just finished writing in your diary, which was conveniently placed on your bed when you came home from school. At around eight pm you hear the phone start ringing downstairs. 

You get up, slip on your fluffy slippers and make your way down the stairs. The phone is on its last ring by the time you answer it. 

“Hey Sid.” You recognize the number. Billy stands in the woods right behind your house, waiting for the perfect moment. He and Stu fought for hours for who to be the one to do it, eventually Stu caved.

Sid said something over the phone, but Billy knew he’d be seeing her tonight too. 

“No, I think I'm just gonna stay home tonight, but have fun with Tate.” You smile into the phone, and for a second Billy thinks he might faint.

You hang up, and set the phone down, turning and walking back to the stairs. The phone rings again, this time you huff, turning back to the phone. You answer, and say, “I told you, Sid. I don’t wanna hang out tonight.” 

“Oooo, trouble in paradise?” the modulated voice teases. 

A smile breaks out on your face. “Well hello, mr ghostface.” You tease back.

“Hey, princess.” He grins behind the mask.He said it less sultry than before, not wanting to scare you off again. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, playing with your hair. 

“Watching you..i’ve decided i’m gonna play with you tonight.” 

“Oh yeah?” Your voice comes out light and breathless.

“Hide and seek. Go unlock the back door, and then go hide somewhere.” You unlock the door and hold the phone to your ear. 

“How do I know you won’t cheat?”

“Oh princess, Y’know I don’t play fair.”

You laugh at that, hanging up and making your way upstairs. You wiggle underneath your bed. 

You hear him making his way up the stairs, heavy footsteps booming through the house. He passes your bedroom door, and then stops. You slap a hand over your mouth to quiet your breathing. 

The footsteps track back to your door, and your bedroom door opens, light flooding in from the hall. Billy ‘tsk’s to himself, wondering how stupid you could be to hide in your own bedroom.  But maybe you want him to find you? 

The footsteps trail into your room, but then slowly make their way out of the room. You let out a sigh of relief. 

Suddenly something is wrapping around your ankles and yanking you out from underneath the bed. You find yourself turning onto your back in the struggle, and your giggles are immediately silenced. He’s holding a giant knife, and he immediately presses it to your throat.

“Found you.”

taglist: @tzkyo @buzzybee-26 @brazilianneighbour @sammanna @wickedsandwich08 @bdhwiqbwo @roygbivvie @dixxhotgirl2 @iiheartbowie @ashreblogsnow @snailwithaheart @ihbofjastmne @alexa-33 @adaydreamaway08 @zeysartzone @your-daily-envy

[yikesmary]

TWO: LIVE IN BOYFRIEND — choi seungcheol x reader

summary: when you have to get used to choi seungcheol as your roommate and fake boyfriend.

notes: thank you guys for all the love you guys gave the first (technically first even if it’s not labeled as the first?) part of what I guess is becoming a series? depending on if I get ideas or not, uploading parts to this series may or may not take long. ill also be accepting ideas for the stories if you guys have any ideas!

btw this chapter focuses more on the contrast of how you and Seungcheol started as people who agreed to fake date vs how you guys will act now. you guys are still fake dating but to people it's very real because you guys act the part.

i'm still accepting requests if you guys have them! it can be for this series or for a one shot, just send an ask.

join my taglist!

previous / next

"We need to discuss some ground rules," You said as you and Seungcheol walked around the mall, finding stores to browse through.

"What ground rules do we need? I live with you, and I pretend to be your boyfriend," he said.

"How did we meet? Who asked who out? Where was our first date? Do we let people know we're living together? How long do we say we're together?" You listed out, counting off with your fingers.

"Don't you have a class with Wonwoo?" Seungcheol suddenly asked.

"Jeon Wonwoo? Yeah, I do. Why do you know that?" you asked.

"We say that Wonwoo introduced us and we were friends for a while. I wanted to ask you out but you beat me to it. Our first date was me teaching you basketball, and it was not pretty." He teased.

"How'd you know I'm bad at basketball?" you questioned.

"I mean, when you nearly died after choking on noodles, I guessed you aren't the most graceful," he joked.

You rolled your eyes and hit him lightly on the shoulder. Spotting a store you wanted to go to, you grabbed Seungcheol's forearm and dragged him with you.

"Anyways, we should let people know we're living together. It tells people we're serious and your ex he's a jackass for breaking up with you the way he did," he said, grabbing a shirt and showing it to you to look at.

Nodding in approval, you grabbed the shirt and continued to look through the racks. "Besides creating a story of our relationship, we make other rules,"

"Like?"

You grabbed a few more items before going in line for the cashier. Counting how much money you had, you realized you had to return a few things. You tried walking out of a line but Seungcheol stopped you and shook his head.

"Like don't fall in love with each other," you said, and he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"We're not gonna fall in love with each other," Seungcheol said.

Once you guys were the next people in line, the cashier started scanning all of the items. Moving to pay, you stopped once you realized that Seungcheol already had his card out and was on his way to pay.

"You didn't have to do that," you told him.

"Think of it as a present. From one roommate to the other," he said.

"Anyways, what were you saying about not falling in love with each other?"

"Have you seen every movie that involves fake dating? The two main protagonists always fall in love without knowing!"

"Those are movies, this is real life,"

When you exited the store, you turned to face him. "How about we just agree to stay friends?"

"Just friends,"

"I'm home!" You called out, putting your keys in the bowl that Seungcheol put after you lost your keys and had to use his for the 3rd time.

When you entered the living room, you saw that your living room was filled with both yours and Seungcheol's friends sitting at every possible chair. "Hello Cheol and everyone who doesn't live here," you greeted.

"How was your nail appointment?" Seungcheol asked and you smiled and walked towards him to hold up your nails to show him.

He took your hands and observed them, "you chose the color I suggested," he said.

You shrugged, "I didn't have any other color ideas and it looked pretty,"

"Now, tell me, why are there twelve of our friends in our apartment when they don't live here?" you questioned.

"We didn't have any food!" Jeonghan interjected.

As if practiced, the sound of Minghao drinking a cup of tea and Jun eating something crunchy filled the room. Jihoon then opened a bag of candy, which caught the attention of others and they grabbed handfuls from the bag.

"And you finish all of ours?!" You jokingly shouted.

"You guys are supposed to go grocery shopping anyways," Seungkwan pointed out.

"Can you guys get more chips? You guys ran out of the ones I like," Vernon said with a mouthful of the chips as mentioned earlier.

"And soda!" Chan exclaimed.

"You tell me the word and I'll kick all of them out," Seungcheol offered.

Ignoring all of the shouted protests from your friends, you shook your head, "It's fine as long as Mingyu's cooking,"

Everyone in the room turned to Mingyu, who sighed and stood up to go to the kitchen. "Don't make a mess of our kitchen or else!" You called out.

"How about you change into comfortable clothes and I'll make these idiots decide on a movie," Seungcheol said.

"Nothing that's too scary or else Seokmin and Soonyoung will have nightmares," you reminded him.

"I don't think they'll get nightmares—" Joshua started saying, but a stern look from you cut him off.

"They'll get nightmares, nevermind," he backtracked.

"You make us sound like kids!" Soonyoung said.

"It's cause you are," Wonwoo commented.

"This is like a daycare," you muttered.

"Go change. I managed to get your favorite snacks away from the guys," Seungcheol told you.

You smiled at him before going to your room to change like you originally planned to.

Maybe this fake dating thing was going better than you thought it was going to.

[tiredmamaissy]

hey 👋

i think this is the longest i've been gone. i missed you all a lot. i've been writing this entire time, and wanted to finish the last (for now, it’s definitely not completed) two chapters of the ralak series before officially coming back. i didn't want to come back without some sort of peace offering (lol how could i come back empty handed?) and i don’t want to leave you guys hanging again, gotta give some sort of closure to this series!

i'm almost finished, but i felt like i needed to come on here and explain myself.

i've been really struggling with my mental lately. it's just been pretty bad, to be frank. and when i get like this, i find it extremely difficult to juggle all that life entails, and will typically neglect certain aspects of it just to get by. unfortunately, this, and my social life, have taken the biggest hit. i find it hard to keep in touch regularly with friends, and i end up just retreating into my shell. motivation becomes little, or nothing at all.

i don't want to go into too much detail, but i've found myself between a rock and a hard place. i don't feel like i have many options in my current situation. i feel trapped. i suppose i've felt this way for the past few years, but it's just been pretty bad recently. issy has been an escape for me. i created a ‘new’ identity, one that i could unapologetically be myself. no face to the name type of thing. i fell in love with pandora, yearning to go there. and suddenly, my ideal world--my ideal everything was at my fingertips.

when i first started, the feeling of regaining my identity after so many years was exhilarating. i put many, many things on the back burner to immerse myself into this feeling and this world. quicker meals, shorter showers, later bedtimes. i did any and everything to dedicate as much time as i could muster up to hold onto this new identity. i could feel myself becoming happier, slipping back into who i was before i lost her.

but life just happens. you know? it continued, and it did so ten-fold. it was one thing after the next, and soon my plate was so full that i had to take something off of it. i guess i'm used to choosing myself to neglect first, so i told myself i'd put this off until i could get through this and then come back. so i did, and i came back. then life happened again. so i left, and came back.

but this time around life hit me hard. i felt like i was playing a game on the hardest difficulty, with a half a life, no pauses, and no way to exit safely. i'm still playing that game, but i've realised that i should really try to make the most of it. so i've been writing in what time i have. it's been one of my biggest escapes and it makes me happy that i can share it, and see that others enjoy what my silly brain comes up with.

i'm ready to come back, but i'm honestly still really overwhelmed with life. i really, really don't want to disappoint anyone…and i can't promise that i won't leave again anytime soon. i never want to leave. and honestly, i don't think i'll ever really leave for good. i will forever love avatar, and all that it’s done for me for the past 14 years. i guess i’m just trying to say… thank you all for your patience and love.

okidoki, let me stop here while i can lol.

ill be posting the chapters as soon as i'm done with them, ofc. i love you guys!! i’m heading to bed and will try to clear out my inbox and dm’s asap

-issy 💜

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I'll crawl home to you

Next chapter

a/n okay this sat in my notes for so long. I wanted to delete first, then I thought hmm... let's indulge, right? Also, please be gentle, I've never written for Javi.

summary: having a fight with someone you care about right before the mission might be the worst idea ever especially when you don't know if you'll make it out alive.

warnings: fighting, guns, past trauma, injuries, blood, mentions of death...I think that's all.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Is Carillo in?", both males lifted their heads from their never-ending piles of documents right as you approached. Each step was laced with nothing but confidence. Only fools would stand in your way. You were nothing like the women Javi was used to. He had never seen you striding across the office in a skirt or a skimpy shirt that most secretarial women preferred here. But then you weren't a secretory ether.

"Yeah, he should be", Steve said, beating Javi to an answer and eyeing the files in your hand. Neatly put as always, followed by the colorful tabs that no one else used, and even if Javi had made fun of them in the past, it was something that constantly reminded him of you. "What's that?", Steve tried to reach for the reports, but you only slapped his hand away playfully. As if he was nothing but a curious kid, shoving his nose into something that wasn't for him. "You'll see. Meeting in five, watch", you stated before walking through Carillo's door, closing it with daring eyes and a wink.

Carillo was the one to command emergency meetings, so you calling the shots looked nothing but childish to an unknowing ear, but then, not even two minutes later, Carillo emerged from the door, "Meeting in five", his voice boomed through the office, and with the corner of his eyes, Javi could see you leaning against the table smiling to yourself.

You fascinated him. There was no other way to go around it. Back when you just joined the team, Javi did doubt you. Toxic masculinity and all that shit got him humbled real quickly alongside all the other sorry fucks who didn't know how to keep their mouths shut. There were not many females among the leading troops, but you were unbeatable. Many men were pissed beyond any mark when Carillo made you his second in command. Even Javi was pissed. Because most of the fuckers here had been here for years, some ten and counting, and it took you less than two to climb almost to the top. But then, no one was better fitted for that role, and with time passing, one thing got even clearer. The thing that pissed Pena off the most was that your position got you and Carillo way too close for Javi's liking. Not that you were his. Not that there was an us.

But you were like an illness clinging to him. Javi couldn't think clearly. Most of his brain was occupied with you. He fucked so many whores when he felt his heart starting to want to lean just to you. He had fucked them all by that time, he was sure that he liked you, but that only made him feel worse. Common Bogota whore. That's what he was. Equally as much, he sold himself both for information and because he needed someone to cling to him, even if it was for the money.

"Why an orphanage?", Steve was leaning against the table, looking down at the papers you had forbidden him to touch five minutes ago. "Would you look there?", you sassed back, making Steve shrug his shoulders in agreement as he continued to flip through all the other documents. "We don't need a full-blown mission. It would just be a check. If we find something to hold onto, we'll send more men", you continued, glancing to Carillo, needing his nods as validation now that the room was dead silent.

"Pena", Carillo called out, getting the agent's eyes to shoot up at him, "You haven't said anything". And it was true he hadn't. One thing that Javi loved was disagreeing. You two were the best at that. But he was never this silent. Regardless of whether he liked the idea or not, he would still share his thoughts, but now you got absolutely nothing.

"Send an armed force; do the thing. I don't understand why we are even discussing this", Javi carelessly threw the case with documents onto the table before crossing his arms over his chest. Your mouth thinned into a straight line. "No armed forces are walking into an orphanage. Those kids have enough trauma to last them a lifetime".

Javi scoffed, running his hand over his beard. "What do you suggest we roll up for a walk there with no guns, no nothing?", he said in an almost mocking manner as his lips curled upward. The room stayed silent. Your eyes met his, and you swallowed thickly. Something in Javi's face twisted. "You can't be serious…", he trailed off. "I'll just go and look; we only need access to the basement parts; hygiene security paper will do the job", you said firmly. The plan seemed simple enough. "You're not going to a potential hideout without a gun", Javi leaned closer to you over the table, fists starting to clench as he glared at you.

"It'll look suspicious", Carillo added, seeming so unphased by all of this and all the things that could go wrong that Javi had to pull the last string of self-control to not pinch him in the face. "Suspicious, my ass, she can be walking into a trap", Javi raised his voice as he shot daggers at the head of the national police unit.

"Since when do you care?", those words took a moment to sink in. And when Javi turned back to you, there was no resemblance to the man you saw a couple of minutes ago. They were dead empty, and there was only anger there. "Good luck dying there since you seem so eager", Javi spat out, not turning away from you because he wanted to see the way your face fell.

"Javi…", Steve muttered. Out of everyone in the office, he was the only one who truly knew just how much you cared for one another. Your eyes started to sting, but you didn't drop the stabbing gaze that Javi was hurling your way, "Don't worry, agent, no one will send you an invite to the funeral". With those words, you turn away from him. Snatching the papers from the table as you turn towards Carillo as if Javi was no longer around.

Did Javi regret his words instantly? No, but he regretted them the moment he watched you unbutton the dress you were going to wear so none other than Carillo would strap communication devices onto your body. He hated that his hands were on your body. Fingers tracing the soft, warm skin. Does Carillo know that Javi's fingers were there too? Does he know that Javi would give up everything, even his career, for the chance to feel that soft skin again on his body every morning? With a frown on his face, Javi put his cigarette out before snatching his jacket off the chair and heading out.

This seemed silly, but you had never gone on a mission with Javi upset with you, and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. Yes, you argued often. Agreeing on something with that man was a challenge, but you made it work most of the time. You would blow each other's brains out by shouting at the office, and then one would always join the other outside for a smoke or just a breath of fresh air.

You would bump Javi's shoulder, making the frown even worse, until your fingers would sneak to pull the cigarette away from his lips so you could take a drag yourself. You would rarely talk. Both stubborn and aware that it would most definitely lead to more fighting. So silence it was. You would lean on Javi's shoulder, and he would never miss an opportunity to bring you closer to him.

The embraces at times felt so intimate that fighting back tears was a challenge. But the smell of Javi's aftershave and the smoke lingering there brought you unimaginable levels of comfort. The same comfort that you felt laying in his bed, tangled in his sheets. It had only happened a couple of times, but those couple of times were enough to make you addicted. Because the Javi at the office was nothing like the Javi you got to see behind closed doors. And it wasn't because he fucked good. No, that anyone could tell. It was because his touch did linger, and behind the wall that he had built for protection was the man who was so capable of love - he had just forgotten it.

"How could I help you, ma'am?", a voice asked, bringing you out of the trance and causing you to flinch slightly. You needed to put your head in check. This. You couldn't allow yourself to think about this while doing your job. "Hygiene check", you said, unfolding the paper and showing it to the elderly lady. She looked you up and down. "Since when are they no longer sending creepy old men?", she asked you sarcastically, and you couldn't help but chuckle. "Since I told them that it's inappropriate, especially around the kids". The woman nodded her head, dropping the paper on the front desk before reaching for the keys. "I'll walk you through the upper floors; the basement is easy to navigate on your own", she stated, moving to walk in front of you.

"Ask her about the size of the lower levels", Carillo's voice rang in your ear, and you flinched again. God, what was going on today? How can you forget that you had a communication set on, with microphones and all? They could hear your surroundings just as much. Focus, you told yourself once more. "A small basement for such a place—surely that's an issue?", you asked her, bringing the fake criteria papers to your chest and reaching for the pen so you could pretend to mark stuff.

"We don't need it. Things like fresh food and other products come in almost daily", she stated. "You have a company you work with?", you asked, looking at the pictures that covered all of the hallways. "Yes, I can give you the information, and the truck that delivered today's packages is still downstairs", she said, yet her voice slowly died down as your eyes fell on the kids playing in the colorfully painted rooms. The big windows allowed you to take a full look at them.

"Why is he alone?", the lady twisted to look back, stopping mid-sentence about the new vegetable stock, catching and following your gaze, now focused on the boy, seated in the furthest corner of the room. Knees up to his chest as he scarcely looked at the other kids. The lady sighed, "He got here not long ago. Hard to adapt. Both of his parents died, as did his sister. He's alone", bile rose in your throat as you swallowed thickly. Suddenly, you wish you had somewhere to lean on.

Javi's muscles tensed as those words rang through the car they all sat in. Carillo was about to speak into the headset, but Javi snatched it out of his hands. He doubted that Carillo knew. Maybe. He would like to believe that no one else did it besides him. That you had only trusted Javi with the story from your past that night. That you had cried because you hadn't told anyone else beforehand, and reliving it was too painful. Javi waited some more, pointing a warning finger at Carillo, who was cursing Javi in Spanish. Javi wanted to give you a moment to try and pull yourself out on your own. You were a big girl, and he knew that you could handle yourself. But everyone had their demons who possessed them at times; this just happened to be yours. Yet another reason why Javi didn't approve of this in the first place.

"You're in Bogota, not back in D.C., carino", Javi's voice filled your ears, and you had to blink a couple of times, feeling the shiver run down your back. Shiver that was followed by a wave of warmth, because if you could hear him, it meant that he came along after all. "Is he looked after?", the question seemed stupid, but you just had to know, even if it had nothing to do with why you were here, "All kids are looked after here, ma'am".

Javi cursed under his breath. You were slipping, and he could feel it. This was just too convenient. Too out of the blue. This had to be set up. To throw you off the hook so they could take you out. Javi could just feel it, and the worry only grew stronger. "Y/N, if you don't feel well, back down", Javi said again. His voice was firm. It was an order, and you knew that it was the correct one as well, but… "I'll look through the basement today", you said softly as you turned to the old lady. "Of course", she said with a nod, rushing to give you the keys.

"Y/n", Javi spoke again as a warning, but you didn't say anything. You closed your eyes for a moment to collect yourself, right as the lady showed you to the back door. Javi moved to get up instead once the line fell silent, but Carillo stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder, "You don't have the order to interfere". That made Javi's blood boil, "You, out of all people, should feel that she's not in the right mindset to be there", Carillo said nothing, only locking the car doors, his eyes now fully fixed on Javi.

The hour you spent inside there was a nightmare. You took a couple of pictures. Sneaked in some papers that seemed off. Now all you needed to do was walk out of the building, and then it would all be over. A breath that Javi didn't know he was holding slipped past his lips as he watched you walk out of the building, turning back to wave to the elderly lady before you moved closer to the street that separated you from the rest of the team. Even from back there, Javi could tell that your eyes looked hazy. A new worry sparked. What if you misread the speed of the car? What if you get hit? Javi reached for the door handle, his eyes not leaving you for a moment.

You looked around a couple more times before stepping forward; your eyes met Javi's desperate ones. And even if he knew that you were beyond pissed at him, you still shot him a slight smile. A little something that would keep his nerves at bay for now. Until you crossed the street and Javi could once again sense your perfume lingering in the car.

And then a blink of an eye changes everything. A bullet suddenly pierces your shoulder, sending you staggering back onto the street. It feels like the world had stopped as Javi watched the red stain get bigger and bigger. "Get down", Carillo shouted at the top of his lungs, making a handful of men drop to their knees, but Javi didn't move. He pushed off the car and rushed forward, "Pena, that's an order", but he was done with following orders for today. Another shot rang out. This time it sounded a lot stronger, and you suddenly gripped your lower stomach. That made Javi lose all sense; he took off running, and suddenly the distance seemed way too long. Pushing panicked people to the side as he scratches his way to you.

You didn't register the first bullet; it was like your mind blanked, and only the feeling of something wet dripping down your shoulder made you frown at the situation. It's the second bullet that pierced your left side that made you let out a scream. One that kept ringing in your ears. You could see people moving, but no one was stopping to look at you. Your mind was running so fast yet so slowly at the same time. Blinking started to get harder, your breaths were painful and shallow now.

"Carino", you heard before you could even see the face, and for a second, it felt like you were imagining it all. "Keep your eyes open", said Javi, who was now leaning over you, palm cradling your cheek as he pats it a couple of times to keep you conscious for as long as possible. Another shot rang out, and Javi turned around to fire his gun before his attention was back on you. "Not safe", you mutter, your weak fingers now wrapped around Javi's wrist. "I'll be fine", he stated blankly, drawing his gaze up for just one moment, catching a glimpse of Steve tackling a male to the ground before he's looking down at your paling face, "Can you press your palms to your shoulder, baby?"

When you don't move, Javi is the one moving his palm over the second wound, pressing as hard as he possibly can. "Let me", you mutter, and God or whatever that people believe in knows Javi was glad you don't finish that sentence because he can't and won't think of that outcome. "Don't you dare? You're walking out of here, you hear me?", Javi said letting go of your shoulder. He patted your cheek again as your eyes rolled to the back of your head for a moment. Anger only rushed faster as Javi shouted once again for an ambulance or a medic.

"He had Michael's eyes", you muttered, breathing now even, though Javi knew what that meant - your body was crashing. "Did he, carino?", he knows this is not a conversation he should be having with you, but he's desperate to keep you awake for as long as possible. Javi's hands were soaked with your blood by now, and so was your flowery dress. You nodded your head weakly and said, "I saw Mikey". Javi clenched his jaw, trying to keep his emotions at bay. "I hope you said hi from me as well", but your head lulled to the side. Javi's blood went ice cold because, for a split second, he thought that was it—you were dead. You bled out in his arms. Letting go of your wounds, Javi pulled you closer to his chest, your limp body looking nothing like a rag doll in his arms. The sirens rang somewhere in the air, but now all Javi could think of was how he would never be the same if you never opened your eyes again.

[bryngmemoney]

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw:none

🪡Chapter Twenty-six: Ignored

“Uno.”

“Oh you suck Y/n,” Nobara said, reaching to pick up a card from the pile in front of you. You just smile, officially winning the game when you place down your last card.

“Shouldn’t you two be working?” Maki said as she put a safety pin through Yuta’s shirt. Yuta jumped when he felt a prick at his side, “Ow.” Maki looked at him apologetically, “Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

“I’m basically finished, just waiting for Gojo to check over them. He saw Yuki’s already and I finished the the guys’ today.”

“And Nobara finished as well? Because we planned to come here to work on the clothes.” Maki questioned.

“Yeah they’re all good, everyone’s set,” Nobara looked down shuffling the cards together for another round. “You’re positive?” you asked as you watched her flip the cards together. “It’s just a few details, i’ll finish it next class, i’m exhausted from this week.”

“Well good for you guys then,” Maki turned back to Yuta trying figure out what needed adjustments to make the shirt fit him right. “Do you need some help Maki?”

“No it’s fine Y/n. I just don’t know why I can’t get Yuta’s shirt to fit him the way I want it too, it’s annoying having to continue to rip the seems apart and everything.”

“Don’t worry Maki, i’m sure you’ll get it right!” Yuta encouraged, trying to not seem off put by the threat of more safety pins poking him.

You and Nobara gave encouragement to her, then returned to your game, only for your attention to turn back to Maki a few minutes later when the sound of a metal clink echoed through the room.

“Shit!”

“What happened?” Nobara asked, leaning slightly around your head as you turned around to look at Maki who was currently sitting in front of a sewing machine. Yuta turned to you guys with a worried look “Ugh, I think this thing is broken, and it ruined the shirt.” Maki, clearly frustrated just stared at the piece of clothing in front of her. “I don’t have anymore of the same fabric either.”

You, Nobara and Yuta all exchanged a glance, trying to silently figure out a way to help.

“I could go and run to the store and get more fabric,” Yuta offered. “And I can go with you! I went with Maki to the store that one time. I know which ones you used, but we can take the receipt just to be sure,” you added on.

“I can stay here and help with whatever you need,” Nobara walked over to where Maki was sitting, willing to just be moral support or do whatever was needed.

“That.. that would be great actually, thanks.”

Finally getting into the car after packing all of Maki’s fabric from the list she had sent you, you sighed leaning against the seat. It shouldn’t have taken more than hour to drive, get the fabrics, then drive back and meet them at the room. However you and Yuta had the unfortunate luck of having to deal with a clueless employee. As patient as you two were being, how could they say they didn’t sell what you were looking for in the store, that you were at the wrong place when the name at the top of the receipt was the location you were currently at?

“That was exhausting,” Yuta mumbled, starting up the car ready to take you two back. “Poor Maki, she really wanted to get everything done, but I don’t think she’ll finish today,” you said while unlocking your phone, only to be met with a few messages from Megumi, the last one specifically catching your eye.

“Shit.”

Author’s Note: r.i.p. maki

was originally gonna make y/n and nobara play b.s. but then i realized that doesn’t rlly work with two ppl

quick question tho guys, would u want two chapters tomorrow ill probably have them ready

but anyways hope you guys enjoyed!

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added!!

TAGLIST

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[fleckficgirl]

Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 12

Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.

Warnings: sex, age gap, language, violence, mental illness, assault

Word Count: 2093

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Arthur's Note (see what I did there?): Thanks every so so much for the kind words and encouragement. I didn't realize the new trailer was coming out today but I started writing this fic again about a week ago and I think I'm on a roll! I <3 Arthur Fleck so much and hope you enjoy!

Arthur had insisted on walking you home, had kissed you again at the front door of your apartment building and promised to call you the next morning; you both had the next day off and planned to see each other.

When he pressed his body into you. You could feel he was hard, but restraining himself. Arthur was nothing if not a gentleman. It only made you love him more.

“I'll call you in the morning,” he hummed into your ear.

“First thing in the morning,” you corrected him with a sly grin.

Arthur smiled, blushing. “First thing in the morning.”

You hated to pull yourself away from him. It was crazy: You'd never cared that much about sex, but for the first time in your life, you understood what it felt like to want to ask someone upstairs, what it felt like to actually want someone to spend the night in your bed. But of course, you had your parents to think about and they'd never go for it in a million years.

Arthur watched you get into the elevator. When the doors closed, you felt like you might cry. Reminding yourself you were gonna see him again in twelve hours was the only thing that put your longing heart at ease.

***

It was almost midnight, and your parents usually went to bed around ten, so you were surprised to find them both sitting up on the sofa in the living room, watching what had to be the last half hour of The Murray Franklin Show. They never watched Murray. They never even stayed up this late.

“What’s going on?” you asked as you locked the front door and hung your coat up.

“We’ve been worried sick!” your mother cried as your dad muted the television.

Oh boy. This was already off to a great start.

“Why?” you asked, cocking your head to one side. “I mean, I know it’s almost midnight, but-”

“There’s been another killing on the subways,” she continued. “They think it’s related to what happened to those three Wayne boys a few days ago.”

“You’re kidding,” you sat down on the sofa to face them. “Who’d they kill?”

“A man,” your father answered. “But they don’t know anything else yet. You were out all night and didn’t hear anything about this?”

You shook your head. “No. But it’s getting crazier out there.”

“What exactly did you do tonight?” your father raised an eyebrow.

“Met up with friends,” you answered breezily. Technically you weren’t lying. Arthur was a friend. Sort of.

“That’s interesting,” he continued, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Because those so-called girlfriends of yours called here looking for you. Two different times in fact.”

“They did?”

You gulped, trying to scan your mother's face for some kind of hint to help you navigate the choppy waters of your father’s suspicions. But her “worried sick” face had morphed into her “I’m just gonna stay out of it and keep the peace” face.

Typically a bad sign.

“First Tina and then that other girl…” your father said. “The one with the silly name…”

He looked to your mother who shrugged in response.

“Chantelle,” he finally remembered. And Chantelle said she was calling to find out how your ‘hot date’ went tonight.”

Damn that Chantelle. You knew she had a champagne-and-dial addiction - it was why she was still hooking up with at least five of her ex-boyfriends - but you could still murder her ten times with a hatchet. She had no idea how crazy your dad was.

“I told your father it must have been some kind of practical joke,” your mother finally interjected. “You know, those telephone pranks kids these days like to play on one another?”

You could see she was trying to help you out. And for one crazy second, you considered telling them the truth:

Mom, Dad…I’m in love with a beautiful clown.

No, that wouldn’t go over well at all. They’d hit the roof. In fact, they'd go through the roof.

The less you said about Arthur the better. At least for the time being.

“I did go out with friends,” you explained in as even a tone as you could muster. “I don’t know what Chantelle’s talking about.”

“Which friends?” your mother asked.

“Just some friends…from…from…” you struggled to complete the sentence. You never went anywhere besides work these days, so where the hell would you meet any other friends?

“Some friends from GU?” your mother asked hopefully.

It was perfect. You could have kissed her right then and there. Saved by the mama.

“Yes!” you nodded. “Yes, some friends from college.”

“Honey, that's wonderful!” your mother smiled.

Your father nodded approvingly. “Those are the kinds of people you should be spending time with. People who are serious about their future…as opposed to a couple of strippers.”

“They’re not strippers, Dad!”

He smiled at his own dumb joke and you pursed your lips. Your father never approved of anyone if he didn’t deem them “serious about their future.” The problem was, most of the kids you’d met at Gotham University were entitled assholes from rich families who didn’t actually care about their futures: no matter how badly they fucked up, their privileged parents could afford to yank them out of hot water and they knew it. Your dad had it all wrong. But you didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“How come you look so disheveled?” your father’s voice broke into your thoughts once more.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He pointed at your rumpled clothes.

“Your outfit’s wrinkled, your hair’s a mess. And your makeup…”

“Did something happen tonight, honey?” your mother asked. You could sense the growing concern in both their voices, and it brought you right back to when you’d started having problems at GU. Your poor parents had to watch as their star student daughter - who’d never given them a lick of trouble - suddenly turned into someone they didn’t recognize. Someone they were afraid of.

“Sweetheart,” your mother prodded gently. “You didn’t happen to get into a…a fight or an altercation with anyone tonight, did you?”

You shook your head and laughed, trying your best to put them at ease. “Not that I can remember.”

It was a true enough answer. More true than they needed to know, anyway.

“You can tell us if you’re…struggling,” your father added. “We want to know if something’s going on.”

You shook your head again. “What happened was, the subway was totally jam packed. Maybe it had to do with the killing tonight, I dunno. Anyway, we were stuffed like sardines. I got all pushed around on the train. You know how the people in this city can be.”

“Fucking animals,” he muttered under his breath. You glanced up at the TV where a still-muted Murray seemed to be delivering his closing words. “You’re alright though, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” you assured them both. “Nothing a shower and some shampoo can’t fix.”

You breathed a concealed sigh of relief as you watched your parents breathe one of their own.

You popped up from the sofa and stretched.

“Gonna get ready for bed,” you announced. “See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, sweetie,” your mom called out. “We love you.”

“Love you, too.”

You turned to go to your room and heard your dad unmute the TV, Murray Franklin’s voice ringing out over the orchestra as an organ struck up the groovy chords from his signature closing song:

“Goodnight, and always remember: That’s life!”

You laughed softly to yourself. “That’s life!” you whispered as you dance-glided down the hall and into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

Life really was something, wasn’t it? Especially life in Gotham, a life like yours: one that now had a beautiful man named Arthur Fleck in it.

After the crazy night you’d had, the shower felt like a balm to your soul. You crawled under the cool covers of your bed, still giddy from your date with Arthur and the promise of seeing him tomorrow. As you drifted off to dreamland, you thought about even though your parents drove you up the wall, you loved them and would do anything for them. You hated the toll your problems at GU had had on them - how scared and defenseless they’d been, not knowing how to help you when the shit hit the fan. They didn’t have the resources and privileges of your ex-classmates’ parents, but they’d stood behind you when no one else had. You’d never forget that.

After the nightmare at Gotham U - after everything it’d put you and the people you loved through - you’d vowed to yourself that you’d never be powerless again.

Although you felt powerless to stop the freight train of emotions you felt for Arthur, you decided he was a worthy exception. Arthur also knew what powerlessness felt like. He wasn't like the rest of them. He was the salt of the earth, just like your parents. Just like you.

And as long as you and Arthur had each other’s backs, you told yourself as sleep enveloped your being, nothing could ever take either of your power away again.

Together, you were unstoppable.

***

The phone rang first thing in the morning, just as Arthur promised. Thank GOD your bedroom had its own phone line.

“Hey you!” you answered playfully on the first ring.

“There you are. We’ve been calling you, bitch!”

“Chantelle?” you paused, your breath hitching.

“And Tina’s here,” Chantelle said. “We’re at Ha-Ha’s. You didn’t call either of us back last night so we decided to ambush you first thing in the morning.”

“Oh yeah,” you shook your head. “And by the way, thanks a lot for telling my dad about my ‘hot date’ last night. He was real happy to confront me about that when I got home.”

“So you did come home last night!” Chantelle gasped.

“I told you a million times!” Tina’s annoyed voice rang out in the background. “She wasn’t gonna have sex with him on the first date.”

“So how was it?” Chantelle asked. “Tell us everything!”

“It was…great,” you answered. “He’s…wonderful.”

Chantelle squealed. “Y/N’s going out with a college boy!” She sang.

“Let’s not blow this out of proportion,” Tina countered. “College boys are a dime a dozen. And most of ‘em wouldn’t know how to please a woman even if they majored in it. Gimme the phone, Chantelle.”

You heard the receiver scuffle on their end and Tina’s no-nonsense voice rang in your ear.

“How was the outfit, hair and makeup?” she demanded. “Any mishaps?”

You paused. It would take too long to explain the whole blacking out thing to them, you reasoned. And you didn’t want them to worry.

“Everything went fine,” you said. “You guys did a great job. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I have some very exciting ideas for the next date outfit,” Tina said. “When are you getting here? I’ll fill you in. We’ll try on some samples.”

“I’m off today!” you sang into the phone. “And I’m actually seeing him again this afternoon.”

“What? You slut!”

Chantelle grabbed the phone back. “You’re seeing him again? So soon? Oh my goodness, Y/N, I feel like you’re gonna marry this guy.”

You heard Tina groan in disgust behind Chantelle before snatching the phone back again.

“Then my outfit ideas will have to wait for your third date,” Tina said. “Assuming there is one. What were you planning on wearing today?”

“I dunno,” you glanced around your messy room helplessly. “I haven’t even thought about it.”

“Okay, listen to me, Y/N. You’re an autumn. That means warm skin tones. Understand?”

“Warm skin tones,” you repeated back, even though you had no idea what the hell she was talking about.

“I’m talking greens, I’m talking yellows…come to think of it: do you have anything in peach?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so.”

“Black is fine. Accessorize with those gold hoop earrings. A full face of makeup just like we showed you. But go easy on the blusher, for the love of God.”

“Thanks, Tina.” You laughed.

“Shit. Hoyt’s coming,” Tina warned. “Call us immediately after today’s date ends. We need a detailed play by play so we can mastermind the plan for date number three.”

“I thought you said these college boys were a dime a dozen,” you countered.

“Mastermind your outfit for date number three,” Tina corrected herself. “If you’re gonna date a college douche, the least you can walk away with is a killer wardrobe.”

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