#might actually try to finish this later but not likely

[quarterlifekitty]

Hello meine Friend. I am anonymously asking you about my husband Phillip Graves and if you have anything you'd be open write about this terrorist? ☺️

Also we have similar biographies about ovulating and it always catches me off guard when I go onto your profile and see the text there, also that's why I questioned anonymously ✌️

I'd totally write for him! I'll see what I can juice up, since you've left it rather open ended right now. (edit after finishing: uhm. this got away from me. the juice most certainly came loose)

So, feel free to fight me on this. But I can so easily see Graves as the kind of guy who's proud to be dating a stripper. Like, he met you on some stupid macho victory outing with the shadows. A private reservation of your club, lot of fuck around money getting tossed around.

And yes. He is, in fact, the idiot that falls for a stripper while she's doing her job. But the key thing about Graves is that while he may be a predator, he's not a dog. He knows quite well how to keep it in his pants. You were used to guys trying to go out with you outside of the club on the basis that they'd be able to get the milk without buying the cow.

You'd admit the southern charm helped. The hairline scar on the cheek. You met him for your first date, bright and early, in a public place. Coffee. What's casual for most is meaningful to you: time spent together in daylight, before you go about errands and business. No intention to steal away, drink, and fuck.

The first three months were just coffee. Maybe lunch, if he caught a long break on a day that worked for you. Nothing at night. Never went to each other's place. The one thing was that while he had little choice but to let you pay for your own coffee and pastries, he'd never let you cover lunch. Call him old fashioned-- but he's got relatives that'd be turning in their graves if he let you tank the cost of a nice date.

It's month four when you let him take you out for dinner. It's a few weeks later that you let him come inside when he takes you home. It's month five when he sleeps over in your bed.

It's month six when you have sex for the first time. Completely your initiation, and he gave plenty of outs. He needed you to be ready for it-- cause he couldn't promise he'd be able to stay gentlemanly once he got a taste.

He picks you up from work these days. And he likes to go in and get you, despite how your boss isn't a fan of it-- makes you seem a little too unattainable. Phillip grins when guys call after him. You know your girl gave me a lapdance a few minutes ago, right? Yeah, genius, he knows.

"Thanks for that, pal. If it weren't for guys like you, I might not get a penthouse view when I fuck her. Cheers for the rent money, partner." They don't need to know that you actually live in a pretty sensible apartment, and you'll be moving to the house his folks left him after the wedding. You're ready to meet him then, in your comfy clothes and fur coat, ring glittering with more than a couple stones. You stick yourself to his side like you're a couple of nesting turtledoves in winter. And he always opens the car door for you.

"Customers give you a hard time while you were waiting for me?"

"Y'know I love it when they do, sweetheart."

[hauntedhokage]

Leaving anonymous love notes for you to find + Sae Itoshi from Silver's prompt list

You left the door to your office unlocked, since as the team's social media manager you didn't really have anything confidential to lock up, but you think that was about to change. For the last week you'd come in to find some note left somewhere on your desk for you to find, each one containing a sweet message - but not knowing who they came from made you a bit uncomfortable.

The first just telling you that you looked beautiful the day before.

The second a note that you always looked beautiful, but he loved how you looked in the team's jersey.

The third a reminder to stay hydrated, left with a couple bottles of your favorite brand of water (you didn't even know how anyone knew something like that)

The fourth, fifth, and sixth also came with gifts. A couple small boxes of snacks and a little plaque that said 'best instagram photographer', both making you a bit emotional at how much this guy thought about you.

Today's message was left on a sticky note stuck to your monitor, wishing that they could ask you out on a date but fearing that their reputation would have you declining to protect yourself from that reputation. The handwriting is neat, font small to ensure it would fit on the sticky note, and you tuck it away in a folder that had the other seven. The handwriting was consistent, and the words felt much too genuine for it to be the team messing with you because they thought they were funny.

But you do watch them all closely throughout the day, getting to mess with them during their practices and team meetings giving you the opportunity for closer interactions that you used to gauge whether they were acting differently towards you. Unfortunately the only thing out of place was the fact that Sae actually stopped to entertain the meme you were recording content for.

"Why do you have this picture?"

"I'm trying to get your autograph." Your response gets a snort from the midfielder, but he accepts your sharpie and takes the picture from your hands. It's old, Sae had to have been around five or six kicking around a soccer ball. "Your mom was excited to send it to me. Think I might frame it."

His reaction wasn't as outwardly amused or embarrassed as the other guys you'd ambushed that day, but the fact that you'd gotten any reaction from him at all made your day. He was cute when he smiled, you wished you could see more of that from him.

"I'll see you later, I'm sure," he states, handing the picture back to you before adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Yeah," you murmur, watching in surprise as he walks away from you to get to the locker room.

You end up working late, usually being out of the stadium before the team finished their practice, but you wanted to get your next few videos edited so you could relax and respond to funny comments for the rest of the week. It takes you some deliberation, but you do decide to lock your office to see what your admirer would do next without being able to steal your stationery.

Sae is coming down the hall when you leave, something that wasn't surprising since he was notorious for practicing later than the rest of the team. Most of the team had popped in to say goodnight, a couple asking if you needed someone to hang out and make sure you made it home, and you happily wave them off with a promise to see them in the morning. But not Sae, and that was because he was leaving now. There's a paper in his hand, and he looks surprised to see you leaving as he approached.

"You're still here?"

"Yeah," you say with a shrug, turning the key to lock the door and meeting his gaze to see the obvious question. "Someone is using my papers and stuff to leave me love notes, I don't hate it but I'm trying to get them to reveal themselves."

You just aren't ready to get your answer when Sae takes the paper in his hand and slides it under your door. He doesn't say anything, just tilts his head in a silent invitation that you can't help but accept. He was so weird, but you were into it.

"Does this mean I can get you on a livestream?"

"Don't push it."

[kingmakerpod]

Might be an uncouth subject, but I was wondering if you'd be willing to share some insight on what kind of money goes into producing audio dramas (specifically when it comes to reaching out to/compensating vocal talent.) I know a lot depends on what tools and connections you already have; I'm just looking for a flexible baseline to start from and make sure I'm not cheating or insulting folks by asking them to work for peanuts. Having a target to save up for would be a huge help. Thanks so much!

(And yeah, I'll totally admit this is partly just me wondering how you fine WANA folks managed to nab Jonny Sims and Tiana Camacho for Killjam XXX; let me know if this is a question better posed via email and I'll get out of your hair, sorry for bothering!)

This isn't an uncouth question at all. It's actually a great question and we'll be happy to answer it!

It's hard to give a definitive baseline for budget beyond the cost of web hosting and audio equipment, which in itself can vary quite a bit. The yeti mic and arm set we (Meg and Henry) bought for Less is Morgue (and still record a lot of Killjam and TKH on) cost about 200 dollars. If I remember correctly the hosting costs for Less is Morgue were about 30 a month, and for Kingmaker it's 14 dollars a month. Those are the only two things you absolutely need to spend money on, so it's definitely possible to make a good quality audio drama for under a grand. In fact, we would absolutely not recommend going over a grand at this point. You definitely don't want to shoot too high with the budget for your first project. Spoken from experience, you will end up spending it on things you'll later realise weren't worth it.

The most important thing is just to put something out there first so the actors can tell that the project is real and you're not just stringing them along. The few episodes of Less is Morgue were pretty much all done in-house with a cast that was mostly people we were already friends with, and we didn't do any open auditions until midway through the season. Another way to do it is to start off as a single narrator podcast then gradually introduce a full cast as the show goes on. Other shows have released a pilot episode to the public that then serves as an advertisement for what the rest of the show will sound like. Once you have a sample of your work out there, you can start reaching out to actors.

When it comes to how you compensate your talent- just be upfront about how much money you're working with. The best way to not cheat or insult folks is by giving them realistic expectations. Don't promise money you don't have, and don't ask them to do work for something that you won't be able to finish. If you're honest and easy to work with, a lot of voice actors will be willing to adjust their rates or work for free. Speaking from a voice actor's perspective, Addison said she would be willing to work for free on a first time indie project if it seemed fun and interesting and she could tell that it was something the creator was really passionate about.

As for how we got some of our big names- it really is all about cultivating a reputation for being cool to work with. Maybe not the most useful advice for a first project, but it will be useful later, and it is true. At this point the WANA core four have been involved in The NoSleep Podcast, Congeria, Less is Morgue, The Kingmaker Histories and Mayfair Watcher's Society, and that's only counting the stuff that more than one of us have been involved with. Every project we try to make loads of friends. Eventually you will have enough mutual friends with enough people that you can just hit up Jonny Sims and Tiana Camancho, because someone you know worked with them on some other thing and they're willing to vouch for you.

[dnickels]

John Irving Poem Playlist

I love the hype around Davechella and wanted to do something a little different- a mixtape of poems, with commentary (desperate self-justification) and bonus poems below the cut

I.

The Lamb, William Blake

The Pilgrim, Sophie Jewett

Self-Dependence, Matthew Arnold

The Light of Stars, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Wanderer, Unknown, trans. Roy M. Liuzza

Up-Hill, Christina Rosetti

Sir Galahad, Alfred Tennyson

II.

They Could Not Tell Me Who Should Be My Lord, Edwin Muir

God gave a Loaf to every Bird, Emily Dickinson

Ancient Text, Louise Glück

I Find no Peace, Thomas Wyatt

A Secret Told, Emily Dickinson

Mary Magdalen, James Elroy Flecker

Because I Liked You Better, AE Housman

III.

A Better Resurrection, Christina Rossetti

The Temptation of Saint Anthony, Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. Leonard Cottrell OR trans. Len Krisak

Batter my heart, three-personed God, John Donne

At Least to Pray, Is Left, Is Left, Emily Dickinson

'Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend", Gerard Manley Hopkins

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, (LXXXIV- LXXXVI) trans. Edward FitzGerald

I Shall Know why- when Time is over, Emily Dickinson

IV.

Sudden Hymn in Winter, Joseph Fasano

Fable and Decade, Louise Glück

Love (III), George Herbert

Of Molluscs, Mary Sarton

Dark Night of Soul, Juan de la Cruz, trans. E Allison Peers

He Touched Me, So I Live to Know, Emily Dickinson

The Finder Found, Edwin Muir

V.

The Plate, Anthony Hecht

Prospice, Robert Browning

Pietà, Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. Jessie Lemont

DEATH THE COPPERPLATE PRINTER, Anthony Hecht

The Gold Lily, Louise Glück

Futility, Wilfred Owen

Flock, Billy Collins

"What, no Wild Geese?" spiritually Wild Geese is here, tucked in section IV, which might a well be subtitled "The soft animal gets a treat", same with Song of Songs and so many psalms I couldn't pick one. I wanted to try to play with poems that were either new to me or a little further off the beaten track (although there are still some obvious picks but come on was I not going to get some Donne in there?). Frankly, this entire list could have been Emily Dickinson start to finish, it's not yet accepted historical fact that she was an inexplicable psychic witness to the sufferings of the Franklin Expedition but I am submitting my findings to journals as we speak

(sorry Jirv for all the Catholics and extremely suspect Anglicans!!)

I. SEEKING

Whenever I invoke "The Lamb" please know I am reading it with the same menace and sense of foreboding as Patti Smith. Given the vibe I'm trying to cultivate you'd think there would be more Blake, but I think Jirv has such a profoundly different experience with Church Authority and his own conversion experience that he and Blake hardly seem like they share the same faith. Even in a scenario where he managed to unclench, I can't see him espousing a sentiment like The Garden of Love. Maybe if he survived to reflect on his encounter with Koveyook he might groove more with "[Christ] is the only God ... and so am I and so are you."

The only section that has at least a few poets I think Jirv would actually read, namely Matthew Arnold-- the only poem on here that I think isn't very good, I'm sorry to Mr. Arnold but there we are, they were right to light your ass up in Punch. He's here however because I think his work captures a very clear and immediately accessible sense of the early Victorian man striving to be himself, in the sense that he can flower fully into the model of upstanding sober bourgeois middle-class manhood which isn't always attainable for later birth-order sons in a navy overcrowded with officers. The real life Irving's letters touched me very much in that he is both looking for a deeper connection with God, a better version for himself, and in the material world, a way to make enough money to establish himself as capital-R Respectable in a way that swashbuckling at sea or derring-do in the colonies doesn't really allow him. I actually don't know if the years line up for him to have read Longfellow but this stanza:

O fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know erelong, Know how sublime a thing it is  To suffer and be strong.

Is such a classic mid 19th century "making yourself miserable for ideological reasons" motto. Shades of "Invictus" (which for some reason I don't know if Jirv would vibe with, maybe more of a Crozier poem).

I think you could also call the first section "Voyages", I was struck by how often the real Irving was compelled to relocated to try and make a place for himself in the world in the literal, material sense, and the few letters we have are largely his thoughts on his spiritual seeking-- I was very surprised not to find a settled and secured ticket-to-Heaven holder but someone who still considers himself a student, is still wrestling and grasping and looking for something.

Prithee, Pilgrim, go not hence; Clear thy brow, and white thy hand, What shouldst thou with penitence? Wherefore seek to Holy Land? Stern the whisper on his lip: Sin and shame are in my scrip.

It feels a little much to say 'Jirv is the Galahad of their doomed Grail quest' but frankly, given that no one succeeds, I kind of like the idea of a failed Galahad. It's slightly ahistorical to invoke but once we get into the 1860s and the mid-Victorian chivalric revival Galahad becomes a potent symbol for a kind of chaste imperial knighthood in service to God/Queen/Country. At least one young office who died in WWI was named Galahad, not just a PG Wodehouse joke christening.

II. CRISIS

Obviously there are ten thousand things that could torment the evangelical protestant mind and bedevil one's self-worth and it doesn't have to be "hopelessly in love with your best friend" but I wasn't going to miss a chance for some Housman, was i? Wyatt gives us the money couplet:

I desire to perish, and yet I ask health. I love another, and thus I hate myself.

I had included Flecker's We That Were Friends but felt it was just slightly too self-aware, ditto Rosetti's Winter: My Secret.

III. STRIFE

I think these are all pretty self-explanatory. I could have added ten more Emily Dickinson poems because she is the only one on this earth who gets it (me, the deal, the whole of existence). Hopkins I think is more concerned with the sins of the world than the real life Irving (who, based on the very limited material shared, must be the most laid-back and chill evangelical in human history? Or maybe I spent too long among the Baptists) but I can see Jirv wondering, in the God-proof bunker of his diary, why the wicked are flourishing while he is losing his everloving mind and threatening to lock up ABs for being afraid of ghosts.

Here is the excerpted Khayyam so you don't have to go looking (although you should because its wall to wall bangers) (context: the narrator is standing in a potter's shed, and listening to the vessels talk amongst themselves)

LXXXIV. Said one among them— "Surely not in vain My substance of the common Earth was ta'en And to this Figure molded, to be broke, Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again." LXXXV. Then said a Second—"Ne'er a peevish Boy Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy; And He that with his hand the Vessel made Will surely not in after Wrath destroy." LXXXVI. After a momentary silence spake Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make; "They sneer at me for leaning all awry: What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

"Did you make me just to smash me, God?"

Runners-up for this section included Rossetti's The Three Enemies, which only didn't make the cut because I think its slightly uneven compared to the rest of this work and this list has become pretty Rossetti-heavy. Ditto De Profundis.

IV. ACCEPTANCE

Also pretty self-explanatory. Mystical union with Christ or a very special sergeant of the marines, or both! Is it canon? No! But I like to think that even just one time...

If you read any poem on this list please read 'Love (III)' and 'The Finder Found', the latter of which is my 'Wild Geese'. It seems self-serving to say I cried when I read it but I did. Meanwhile Herbert is goated and his entire work could be listed here but hearing Love (III) read aloud made me understand what poems could do.

I cheated putting two Glück poems for one but given that they were published together in that magazine I think its ok. Here's even more cheating: The Undertaking would be in there if I could squeeze it on the same line. "The darkness lifts, imagine, in your lifetime" PLEASE

Runners-up here were Larkin's First Sight, which just doesn't quite fit but I love for the sense of spring coming to someone who doesn't know there's anything other than winter deprivation, and A Shropshire Lad XI (On your midnight pallet lying) which I LOVE but again doesn't quite jive with the theme, but I do imagine it as a bridge poem between this section and the last...

V. DOOM

A little bit of Browning, who might squeak in under the line of plausibility (though perhaps not this poem) as Jirv sets out on the death march with waning faith that is not, in fact, a death march but then his journey ends in Stabtown, population: YOU. "The Plate" in this case would be that faith and knowledge of being loved that remains even after hardship and the final lost battle, maybe even literally in the meat from his stomach. But misery and death put all the men on the rack and instead of salvation they are essentially tortured to death, often long enough to crush/squeeze out any semblance of humanity and leaving the animal capacity for violence.

"Futility" could encompass the whole sorry venture but in specific the shot of Jirv's body after all the effort to make contact with someone would could help. Was it for this? "Exposure" also a strong contender for "the long slow process of freezing to death for unclear reasons".

"Flock" of course-- God needs martyrs.

[hungermakesmonsters]

✨✨Congrats on 500 followers!!! ✨✨

I know you only just finished red ribbon but my request is that I would love to know if bunny goes back to working for Billy and if she does is he be able to keep his hands to himself or would he cause problems?? 😂

😅😅😅OF COURSE BILLY WOULD CAUSE PROBLEMS AND NOT KEEP HIS HANDS TO HIMSELF!! no but seriously, I actually really wanted to put a scene like this in The Red Ribbon because (as far as I've planned for a second series) she does go back to work for Billy. So, I really enjoyed writing this silly little thing, I hope you enjoy reading it!!

Better At You

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Fic Universe : The Red Ribbon

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour.  

He sat hunched over his desk, elbows braced on the wooden surface, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. You’d heard more than enough through the door to know that his meeting with his business partner Frank had not gone well. So, once Frank had made his exit, you had decided to go check on Billy.

“Are you okay?” You asked as you rounded his desk and perched on the edge of it beside him.

“Fine,” he grumbled, not even bothering to look up at you.

For a few seconds you hesitated, carefully considering your next move. You’d both agreed that work needed to be separate, that you needed to remain professional but, after two weeks, you were already starting to struggle.

“No you’re not,” you said, finally reaching a decision. “You barely slept last night, you skipped breakfast, and all you’ve had since getting to the office is a coffee.”

As you spoke, you dared to place a hand on his shoulder, feeling the uncomfortable tension that filled his body.

“You’re supposed to be my PA, not my mother,” he snapped, pulling away from your hand.

It was the first time he’d snapped at you in weeks, the first time since you’d started your relationship. And, for a moment you were frozen, shocked by his little outburst. Then you shook your head and stood - he’d agreed that he wouldn’t snap anymore, that he’d never take his shitty mood out on you at work.

A second later, he realised what he’d done and, before you could walk away, his hand was on your wrist, pulling you back towards him.

“Bunny, I’m - I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “You’re right, I didn’t sleep and I feel like shit, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“You promised me that -”

“I know. I know I did,” he sighed. “I’m trying, it’s just... Frank says we’re gonna have to get the Feds and maybe Homeland involved to find out just how deep this thing with Rawlin’s goes, and -”

“That’s no reason to snap at me.”

“I know. Fuck - I know. I’m sorry, Bunny.”

You knew that he meant it, that he really was sorry, and that was enough. At least, for now. 

Stepping closer, you reached for him, your hand cupping his cheek tenderly. Despite your agreements to keep things professional, you couldn’t help but want to comfort him. He finally relaxed a little at your touch, and that made you feel a little better.

“I don’t suppose I could talk you into cancelling the rest of your meetings, leaving early and going home to get some sleep?” You asked, your voice turning low, worried that someone might overhear you even though you knew there was no one else on the floor.

“Depends, are you offering to come home with me?” He asked just as softly.

“I have all that paperwork to finish filing, remember? Besides, if I go home with you, the last thing you’re gonna do is sleep.”

His hand on your wrist gave a gentle tug, pulling you closer, until you were standing between his legs. Then both of his hands found their way to your hips.

“We agreed we weren’t going to do this at the office,” you said, reminding him of your agreement while simultaneously completely ignoring it by letting your fingers slip into his hair.

Billy’s eyes closed and he let out a sigh, leaning into your touch.

As much as you believed it was a bad idea to let your personal lives and feelings bleed into work, seeing him like that, finally able to relax a little, left you with no doubt in your mind; he needed you.

He pulled you closer and, before you could stop to think about it, you were kissing him. A switch flipped inside you when he let out that first little groan against your lips, and it stopped being about what you shouldn’t do and became more about what he obviously needed

When the kiss broke, you slowly dropped to your knees in front of him, all the while holding his gaze.

“Bunny...” there was a warning in his tone, but something else too. Pleading.

“We’ll be quick,” you told him as you tugged open his belt and started on the fastenings of his pants. “Besides, your next meeting isn’t for twenty minutes.”

Whatever Billy wanted to say died on his lips the moment you reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. You watched as he licked his lips and sank back in his chair, putting himself completely in your hands, both literally and figuratively. 

You started slowly, stroking his cock and watching as it got harder, revelling in the way that Billy’s breath caught. You’d never known a man so needy, a man who craved your every touch as if he’d never been touched before. Honestly, you weren’t sure if it was you or if Billy had always been that way, but you liked to think it was all for you.

His cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat, the tip quickly starting to leak. And the sounds - god, the sounds spilling from him made you feel like the most powerful person in the world.

“Fuck,” he groaned at the feeling of your lips wrapping around him.

You almost smiled as you sank lower, taking more of him into your mouth, keeping your fist wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking what you couldn’t take.

You started slowly, toying with him, dragging your lips up and down his shaft, tracing patterns on his skin with your tongue until you felt his fingers tangling in your hair.

“Bunny,” he muttered, voice little more than a low growl.

Despite his grip on you, Billy knew better than to apply pressure. As desperate as he might have felt, he knew that you were in complete control, and he knew just how much that control meant to you.

Glancing up, you met his gaze and still for a moment, the tip of his cock in your mouth while your hand continued to stroke him.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he groaned. “So fucking beautiful, Bunny,”

More little affirmations started to fall from him as your lips started to move again, this time bobbing your head faster and with more purpose, knowing that you’d finally gotten him to relax. 

And that felt good. No, it felt amazing.

You’d realised pretty quicking that it was what Billy needed in his life, it was what you wanted to give him. He saw you as a person, cared about you and cherished your time together, and you - you wanted to give him the happiness and stability that he craved. Maybe eventually there would be more, maybe in time the feeling in the pit of your stomach would even  become love. But, for now, this was enough.

“Bunny,” he gasped, his fingers tightening in your hair - not a lot, but enough to let you know he was getting close.

You didn’t stop. Instead you doubled down, working your lips faster on his cock, gripping him a little tighter with your hand. 

Again you looked up at him, catching the look of sheer pleasure and desperation on his face.

“Bun -” 

He grunted as he started to come undone in your mouth, and you held him there, still stroking him until he was completely spent.

When you finally pulled back and looked up at him, you couldn’t help but grin; his eyes were closed and tension and worry had left his face. If you didn’t know him better, you might have said it looked like he’d just been through a life-changing experience. 

His fingers slipped from your hair and back to your cheek again as he finally opened his eyes and looked at you.

“So much for not doing that at the office,” he said playfully, tucking himself back into his pants.

“It was an emergency,” you shrugged. “I couldn’t have you turning into a cranky asshole and taking it out on everyone.”

“Oh, so that was a public service blowjob?” Billy asked, grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Exactly. In fact, you could even say I’m a superhero.”

“That’s quite a superpower you’ve got - though, I don’t think they’ll be asking you to join the Avengers anytime soon.”

“Their loss, I’m actually also really good at -”

The sound of someone clearing their throat had Billy glancing towards his office door, his eyes going wide. You couldn’t see who it was until you scrambled off your knees and stood again, quickly brushing your skirt down.

Frank Castle, Billy’s business partner, had come back.

Your cheeks warmed quickly, leaving you feeling like you were about to spontaneously combust.

“I, uh -” you tried to think, tried to come up with something to say, “- I’ll see if I can find something to stop your chair from squeaking, Mr Russo.”

And, with that, you quickly rushed out of the office, trying very hard not to make eye contact with either man on your way out.

[kultklassickiller]

Prada You Chapter 16

Summary:

In the summer of 1998, sparks fly between Nyeya and Jey.

Nyeya is an 18-year-old around the way girl. Jey is older, paid, and fine. He is also the leader of the infamous Prada Bois alongside his twin brother Jimmy.  The two have chemistry. However, Nyeya has plans outside of her attraction. With a birthday around the corner and dreams of living a good life, Nyeya sets her sights on enjoying the perks of Jey's money and hood celebrity.

But baby girl has no clue what it takes to really be down. Nyeya is about to learn some hard life lessons at the expense of her 'Prada' priced dreams.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye) Green (OC)

Author’s Note: This story is happening in an alternative universe. It features the current and original Bloodline members along with other WWE stars. So, the characters are themselves, but some things are switched around for the stories sake. This was originally written with all original characters, but I think it could work better this way. Hope you guys enjoy it and I actually finish it...

Warning: Please be advised that this chapter contains underage drinking, age gap relationships, brief violence.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Chapter 16: Weight

Saturday morning came too soon, dragging the haze of the previous night along with it. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, landing square on my face as I blinked awake. I shifted under the sheets, the familiar weight of the bracelet on my wrist pulling me back to reality. The memory of Damian’s kiss burned hot in my mind, a dangerous mix of confusion, anger, and something else I wasn’t ready to name.

What did he mean by that?

I turned over, burying my face in my pillow. The kiss wasn’t what haunted me most; it was the possibility that someone might have seen it. If the wrong person had been outside, it could ruin everything. Jey wasn’t the type to brush off betrayal—real or perceived. I shuddered at the thought of what he might do.

My mom’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “Nye! I made breakfast, come get it while it’s hot.”

“Coming!” I called, throwing the covers off and heading to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to wash away the lingering guilt and unease. But when I looked in the mirror, all I saw was someone who was in way over her head. I glanced down at the bracelet before sliding the bracelet off, leaving it on the bathroom counter.

---

Later that morning, Jey’s number lit up my phone. I stared at it for a moment before answering.

“Morning, baby,” he said, his voice warm and casual, like nothing had happened the night before.

“Morning,” I replied, trying to sound normal.

“Tama’s not done celebrating,” Jey said with a chuckle. “He’s throwing another party tonight at his place. You and your girls should come through.”

I hesitated. “Another party?”

He paused, his tone sharpening. “Yeah, Nye. You got a problem with that? You gone be busy or what?”

“No, no problem,” I said quickly. The idea of another party, especially one where Damian might be, made my stomach churn. “I’ll let them know.”

“Good,” Jey said, his tone softening. “Don’t have me waiting all night to see yo’ pretty ass either.”

The line went dead before I could respond. I sat there for a moment, staring at the screen, wondering if “having fun” was even possible anymore.

---

By early afternoon, I was at the mall with Kiyah, Natasha, and Nataya. The air-conditioned corridors were bustling, shoppers weaving in and out of stores with arms full of bags. We ducked into a boutique, the girls immediately gravitating toward racks of dresses and jumpsuits.

“You think Tama’s party is gonna top last night?” Kiyah asked, holding up a sequined black dress.

“Probably,” Natasha said, flipping through a rack of skirts. “I mean, it’s at his house, so you know it’s gonna be even crazier. You know how they get down.”

Nataya glanced at me, her expression curious. “You good, Nye? You’ve been quiet.”

I forced a smile. “I’m fine. Last night was something else. I guess I’m still tired.”

Kiyah smirked, nudging me with her elbow. “Tired from being Jey’s girl? Must be nice.”

“It has its moments,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light.

The girls continued browsing, laughing and joking about their finds. I lingered near the fitting rooms, pretending to look at a dress. My thoughts were a tangled mess, Damian’s words and actions replaying like a broken record.

“Y’all find anything yet?” a familiar voice called. I turned to see Jey strolling into the store, his presence commanding as ever. His red Prada bucket hat sat low on his head, and his black designer tee fit perfectly over his broad shoulders.

“Jey!” Kiyah exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement. “Aye, what you doing here, big bro?”

“Figured I’d stop by,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Thought I’d treat my girl and her friends today. Pick out whatever y’all want. It’s on me.”

The girls erupted in laughter and cheers, their gratitude spilling over in a flood of compliments. Kiyah practically danced over to the register with an armful of clothes. I was positive she was going to "borrow" some clothes if he hadn't showed up to pay for them.

I stayed back, watching him. “How’d you know we were here?” I asked, my voice casual but edged.

Jey’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a glint in his eyes that made me uneasy. “I always know where my girl is. Gotta keep tabs on you.”

“Tabs?” I said, trying to sound playful despite the knot tightening in my chest. “You’re not stalking me, are you?”

“Nah,” he said, brushing a loose braid from my face. “Just making sure you’re good. You know how it is.”

I forced a laugh, but the unease stayed with me.

---

That evening, as I stood in front of the mirror adjusting the top of my dress, my mom knocked on the door and stepped in without waiting for an answer. Her eyes immediately scanned my outfit.

“You’ve been going out a lot lately this summer,” she said, her tone light but incisive. “You must be seeing someone?”

I froze for a moment before answering. “Just hanging with friends, Ma. Tryna enjoy the summer before I start college courses. And.. it’s nothing serious with him. He's just a friend.”

Her brow arched. “Mmhmm. Friends don’t buy you dresses like that. I’ll say he’s in much deeper than you think. Perhaps, even in love.”

My heart raced as I turned to face her. “It’s nothing like that,” I lied. “Just someone I’m talking to, getting to know is all.”

She didn’t press further, but her eyes lingered on me for a beat too long. “If you say so, girlie. Does he know it’s not serious. If not, you should tell him that. Be careful, Nyeya. People don’t play about their feelings,” she said softly before leaving the room.

Her words stayed with me as I grabbed my clutch and headed out to meet the girls. The weight of everything on my shoulders remained, a reminder of how deeply I was tangled in this web.

---

The twin’s car they borrowed from their mama rattled to a stop in front of Tama’s house, a modest two-story home tucked into a quiet street. The porch and backyard were alive with people. On the porch, groups smoked and laughed, while in the backyard, a grill sizzled, and folding chairs circled a card table where men shouted over a heated game of dominoes. The faint sound of music leaking through the walls promised the party extended inside too.

Kiyah twisted in her seat, craning her neck to take in the scene. “This it? Doesn’t look like much from out here.”

Natasha, gripping the wheel, rolled her eyes. “Girl, it’s not supposed to look like much. You think Prada Bois want attention from everyone on the block?”

Nataya laughed, pulling down the visor mirror to fix her lip gloss. “As long as it’s fun, who cares? Just don’t wreck Ma’s car trying to get in this driveway.”

I stayed quiet, adjusting the top of my strapless black dress. The fitted fabric clung to my body, showing just enough skin to feel daring but not too much to feel exposed. My heels clicked against the pavement as we got out, my nerves twisting tighter with every step toward the house.

“Alright, let’s go y'all,” Natasha said, cutting the engine. “Ma’ll have a fit if we’re back too late.”

---

Inside and outside, the party thrived like two worlds blending into one. The house buzzed with chaos and celebration, while the backyard held its own rhythm. Laughter spilled from the kitchen, mixing with the sound of dominoes being slapped down on the folding table outside. The glow of string lights crisscrossed the yard, casting warm, uneven patches of light over the crowd. The living room buzzed with laughter and loud conversations as people filled every available seat and leaned against the walls. A group had taken over the couch, their dominoes game growing louder by the minute. In the kitchen, a mix of women and Prada Bois gathered around the counter, where bottles of Hennessy and Grey Goose lined the surface.

The backyard was alive with movement. Tama held court near the grill, his beer bottle raised as he told some story that had everyone around him doubled over in laughter. Jimmy leaned casually against the fence, a blunt in hand, trading barbs with Solo and Jacob. In one corner, a group of women giggled as they scoped out the Prada Bois, their bright dresses catching the light with every shift of their hips. The air was thick with the scent of barbecue and the occasional snap of a lighter. Other women, dressed just as boldly as me, hovered near the Prada Bois, their eyes full of intentions I didn’t want to think about.

“Aye, this is more my speed,” Kiyah said, her grin widening as she spotted the card table outside. She gestured toward the domino game, her excitement contagious. “Y’all know I’m about to clean somebody out tonight.” She swayed her hips to the song, “Hypnotize” by The Notorious B.I.G as we made our way into the house. “Come on, Nye. Don’t look so tense. You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself. Ain’t nothing going down 'cause they don’t want it to be shut down.”

I managed a small laugh, but my stomach churned. My eyes scanned the room, searching for Jey. Nataya nudged me, pointing to a corner near the kitchen. “There he go. Go get him, girl.”

Jey was perched on the arm of a recliner, his legs stretched out and a drink in hand. His red Prada bucket hat was gone, replaced by the close-cut lines of his fade. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes sharpened as soon as he spotted me, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“There go my baby,” he said, standing to meet me. His arm slipped around my waist, pulling me close. “Thought y’all got lost.”

“Traffic,” I said, the lie slipping out easily.

He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke. “You don’t need to be so stiff, Nye. Loosen up, mama. It’s just a party. I got you. Always.”

The warmth in his voice eased some of the tension in my chest. I glanced up at him, his crooked grin softening into something almost tender. He took my hand, lacing our fingers together. “You good now?”

I nodded, and he kissed my forehead before leading me toward the backyard.

---

The energy in the backyard swirled around me. Groups mingled under the string lights, laughter and conversation blending with the thumping bass from the house. Jey’s hand stayed on my lower back, a quiet reminder of his presence as he led me to where the music pulsed louder.

The beat changed, slowing to “Nice and Slow” by Usher that made couples inch closer. Without a word, Jey pulled me toward the open patch of grass where others had already started dancing. Jey pulled me onto the patch of open space where a few people had started dancing. His hands rested firmly on my waist as we swayed to the rhythm, his eyes locked on mine.

“We’ve never danced like this before,” he said, his voice low and almost amused as his hands adjusted slightly on my waist.

I smirked, meeting his gaze. “You saying you don’t know how to dance, Jey?”

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “Nah, I know how. Just never had someone worth dancing with.”

His words caught me off guard, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “That supposed to be smooth?” I teased, trying to ignore how much the compliment hit.

“Just being honest,” he murmured, his eyes searching mine. “You’re looking real good tonight, Nye. You always do, but tonight…” He trailed off, a soft smile tugging at his lips before he leaned in closer. “You look edible.”

The kiss came naturally, his lips brushing against mine softly at first before deepening. For a moment, everything else faded—the crowd, the music, the lingering doubts. It was just us, swaying together in a world that felt briefly untouched by the chaos around us.

When the song ended, he pulled back slightly, his thumb brushing my cheek. “See? Told you I got you. You ain’t gotta worry with me, baby.”

For the first time that night, I believed him.

---

The hours slipped by as the music vibrating through the walls and seeping into the backyard like a second heartbeat. The cops hadn’t shut things down, which was good. I hadn’t seen Damian all night either. At first, I felt relief—a reprieve from the chaos his presence always seemed to stir. But as the minutes ticked on, the absence gnawed at me, an itch I couldn’t quite reach.

He’s not coming, I finally told myself. And with that, I decided to let go, if only for the night.

“Girl, what are you doing standing there like a statue?” Kiyah’s voice broke through my thoughts. She grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the makeshift dance floor in the center of the living room. “Come on, Nye. You need to loosen up. Shake that ass with me.”

Her words struck a chord. She wasn’t wrong. Letting out a small laugh, I followed her lead, moving to the beat of “Love You Down” by INOJ that pulsed through the crowd. The warmth of the drinks Jey had brought me earlier made my movements fluid, the tension in my shoulders finally melting away.

Nataya wasn’t far off, but she wasn’t dancing—at least not with her feet. She was nestled on Jimmy’s lap in the corner of the room, their faces inches apart as they whispered and laughed. Natasha twirled near the kitchen, her giggles blending with Sami’s as he spun her dramatically, earning cheers from the crowd. And Kiyah? She was shamelessly pressed against Jacob, the two of them swaying in sync as though the music had been made just for them.

It felt good to laugh, to be caught in the rhythm of the night. For once, I let myself have fun.

---

Jey’s hand found mine as I stepped off the dance floor, my cheeks flushed from the heat of the room. He pulled me close, his dark eyes sparkling with something playful.

“You’re finally having fun, huh?” he teased, his voice low enough to send a shiver down my spine.

I nodded, a small smile playing on my lips. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against my temple before stepping back. “Let’s keep it going.”

The music shifted again, and Jey led me into another dance. This time, the tempo slowed, the kind of song that made couples draw closer. His hands rested firmly on my waist, his fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of my dress. I couldn’t ignore the way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the room.

“You look beautiful, Nyeya. Especially when a smile on your face,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the haze of noise around us.

I looked up at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “You’re laying it on thick tonight,” I teased, but my voice betrayed me, softer than I intended.

He smirked, leaning closer until his forehead almost touched mine. “Just telling the truth.”

For a moment, I let myself embrace his soft side. The tension between us felt lighter, like it was something we could set down instead of carry forever.

---

As the night wore on, the drinks kept coming. Jey seemed intent on keeping my glass full, and the warm buzz in my veins made the world feel softer, less jagged. Kiyah was still glued to Jacob, their laughter loud enough to cut through the music. Natasha was practically floating as Sami spun her again, this time dipping her so low she shrieked. Even Nataya had come up for air, though her lips were still red and swollen from kissing Jimmy.

I was watching them, smiling at their antics, when a figure stepped into my peripheral vision. A man I didn’t recognize sauntered toward me, his expression too familiar for my liking. He wasn’t dressed like the Prada Bois—his jeans were baggy, his white tank slightly dingy—but his swagger suggested he thought he belonged.

“You Jey’s girl, right?” he asked, his voice smooth but edged with something sharp.

I nodded slowly, already on edge. “Yeah.”

“Figured,” he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Gotta say, I get it now.”

Before I could respond, a voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. “Yo, what the fuck are you doing, uce?”

Jey was already crossing the room, his shoulders tense, his jaw set. The man turned, hands raised in mock surrender. “Relax, bro. Just talking.”

“Talking to who?” Jey snapped, his voice rising. “My girl? You lost your damn mind?”

The tension in the room shifted instantly. Conversations hushed, all eyes turning toward the brewing storm. The man smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not that deep, bro. Chill.”

But Jey wasn’t hearing it. He shoved the man, hard enough to send him stumbling into the wall. The reaction was immediate—voices shouting, people scattering, the air charged with chaos. Jimmy was at Jey’s side in an instant, gripping his twin’s shoulder.

“Uce, calm the fuck down,” Jimmy said firmly. “Not here. Not now.”

The man straightened, glaring at Jey, but before he could retaliate, Solo and Jacob were there, stepping in to diffuse the situation.

“You need to go,” Solo said, his tone low and menacing. “Now.”

After a tense moment, the man backed off, muttering curses under his breath as he was ushered out. Jey shrugged off Jimmy’s grip, his face still tight with anger. Without a word, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the crowd, leading me to a quiet corner of the house.

---

He didn’t stop until we were in an empty room, the door slamming shut behind us. The sound made me flinch, but Jey didn’t notice. He ran a hand over his face, pacing the small space like a caged animal.

“What the hell was that? I leave yo’ ass alone for five minutes and this what you do,” he demanded, his voice low but trembling with frustration.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said, my words tumbling out. “He came up to me. I didn’t even know him. Like it’s not that serious, Jey.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jey shot back. “You think I’m just gonna let some random ass dude talk to you like that, in my face, around my people? You’re mine, Nyeya. Mine. I need you understand that shit.”

His words hit like a slap, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Somewhere deep inside, a voice whispered something I didn’t want to hear: Would Damian have treated me like this?

Jey stepped closer, his tone softening but still firm. “I’m just trying to protect you. You don’t get it, Nye. Everybody ain’t cool. In my world—it’s dangerous over here. I can’t have anyone thinking they can take what’s mine.”

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach tightened. “I get it,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure if I did. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as if that could erase the cracks forming between us. But even as I leaned into his embrace, the doubt lingered, heavier than ever.

"You belong to me, Nyeya. Can't nobody have you but me.”

---

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[lunasolenna]

Finished Ghost Trick yesterday... is this anything?

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[cloudysarts]

this show would be good if literally everything about it was different

[lights-at-night]

i might be shot but tbh i think fiction podcasts have an issue with racial representation

[athenasiuscorp]

all old misc necrontyr shit

[einsatzzz]

If Chrome tells me to jump off a cliff, I will simply just jump off a cliff no questions asked

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

there are too many thoughts inside of me at all times.

[marcmorrigan]

i finished the duel monsters dub for the first time ever last night (!!!) so i figured i oughta lock down my faces for the aibous... what a show, man

[gothsuguru]

getting an iced pumpkin chai in the morning and then my personal goal is to spend the whole day writing and i hope i can come back to this post tomorrow and rb w how much progress i’ve made!!!

[kristoffs-lullaby]

tsukkiyama.. queerplatonic.. send post