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trippinsorrows · 3 months ago

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give me a reason + three

authors note: still blown away by people's interest in this one. i included visuals in this chapter, so look out for links. tweets and messages are intended to be read from left to right.

as always, confusion is to be expected. :)

one + two

words: 8k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: language and fluff

To say this is the first time in his life that Joe has felt lonely would be a lie. He felt it a bit the first time he left home for school, but it was greatly eased by the fact that he had BJ, his best friend. They were both in the same boat, so it wasn’t as bad.

He felt it again on and off over the years as he fought to make an NFL career that was never going to work, well, work. And once that brutal realization finally hit, after taking way too much time feeling sorry for himself, he experienced t it again as he started the hustle and grind to make a wrestling career work instead.

And he’s especially felt it over the past two years as his marriage with Ri has deteriorated to a level he thought unreachable.

But this….this is different.

It’s different because he’s not going home to an empty house. He’s on the road, back to work, surrounded by his cousins, a fantastic team, and a plethora of fans. It’s truly the opposite of loneliness.

But that’s exactly what Joe feels.

Because he doesn’t have her. Doesn’t have Ri.

Even if he hasn’t had her for at least two years. Not really, anyway. Not in any meaningful way that actually matters to him.

A knock on the door pulls him from his depressing inner dialogue.

Sitting up, Joe calls out, “come in.”

In walk Jon and Josh, and right away, Joe knows what’s up. He can tell by their facial expressions.

“I’m fine.” Maybe if he jumps ahead of whatever semi intervention they have planned, he can avoid a conversation he really doesn’t feel like having. Physically or mentally.

“Bullshit,” Josh scoffs, closing the door behind them. The twins sit down on different seats opposite the sofa Joe’s big body is sprawled on. “You ain’t been fine for a minute, Uce.”

It’s not entirely wrong, but that doesn’t mean Joe has to necessarily agree. “A lot of shit has happened.”

“Yeah, and I’m not quite sure you fully allowing yourself to feel that shit.”

“Kind of hard not to.”

“You know what we mean, Joe.” Jon cuts in, asking over a sigh. “Why you here right now? You should be with Ella. Helping her heal and remember shit.”

Joe feels the exact same way, but that’s not what her family wanted. Not what she wanted to some extent, because Joe was present when her parents brought up the idea of her returning home to Florida with them. She didn’t seem opposed. Didn’t express any desire to instead stay and go back to her real home with him.

Not that he can blame her. He’s a complete stranger to her. Granted, technically, so is her family. So that not being chosen thing has definitely left a sting.

So, Joe settles on a simple answer, “it’s not what she wanted.”

Josh is quick with the rebuttal. “Man, she don’t even know who she is, let alone what she wants.” Again, not wrong. But also, again, no need to verbalize as such. “Look, Uce, I know….I know things been rocky with you and her the past couple years—”

“Don’t.” This time, Joe doesn’t hesitate to dead the conversation before it can truly transpire. “I’m not doing this shit right now.”

“That’s the problem though, Joe.” Jon jumps back in, pointing out, “I feel like you, and her too, been avoiding talking about whatever it is that happened. And that avoidance has damn near cost you your marriage.”

“I said I’m not doing this, Jon. Drop it.” Joe can think of a million other things that he’d prefer to talk about than that. All kinds of cruel, mideval types of torture would be preferred over venturing down that path. The only person he should be discussing that with is his wife. But, that’s hard to do when she doesn’t even remember it.

Doesn’t remember the thing he’ll never truly be able to process.

He doesn’t even know someone can process and make peace with that.

The twins share a look. They must know they’re defeated. In this round, at least. Cause if it’s one thing he knows about the cousins he considers more as brothers, they can be resilient and tenacious. Especially when it comes to heavy shit like this.

“Alright, man.” Josh shakes his head and slaps his thighs. “We’ll leave you alone.” It’s appreciated and both unwanted. Joe doesn’t want to be alone, per se. But, he doesn’t want his cousins, either.

He wants his wife.

And when they walk out, the door closing behind them figuratively and literally, Joe is back to ruminating thoughts about his wife.

His wife who he’s seen mostly online in the two weeks that have passed since she was discharged from the hospital and left to be with her family.

Joe isn’t ashamed or embarrassed to admit he’s found himself looking at footage of her via her music videos, interviews, performances and home videos. He’s reviewed old news articles that came out about them back in the day, got a good chuckle at a situation a few years back where some irrelevant rapper called himself trying to start shit with Mari that Joe and BJ handled and deaded right away.

He laughed over old text exchanges with his wife who will always be the smartest yet dumbest person he’s ever met when it comes to common sense sometimes.

But, he’s especially enjoyed the home videos. Joe had almost forgotten just how much footage he has of her. Personal videos taken when it was just the two of them.

Some taken by her. Some taken by him.

Memories, they’d always call them.

And they still are.

Just haunted ones.

Joe grabs his phone and navigates to his videos folder. There’s hundreds of them, because every time he upgrades to a new phone, he always makes sure to back up and transfer his texts, photos, and videos. For no reason other than not wanting to lose anything. Not miss out on any of the many hilarious, heartwarming moments with Ri.

Joe picks a random video, a smile easily falling on his face as he immediately remembers and recalls what this one is.

She’s wearing one of his Bloodline shirts, a random ball cap and a pair of his sunglasses over her eyes. There’s also a spatula in her hand as she sits on the floor in their living room in front of their flat screen TV while one of his more popular promos with Brock Lesnar plays in the background.

“You must be confused, farm boy. That title? That’s my title, and you don’t even realize cause I’m gon smash you at WrestleMania. And it’s not even your fault, Brock. You ain’t got a chance.” She’s mouthing along perfectly, facial expressions and body language in almost perfect sync with her makeshift microphone. Joe can hear his laughter in the background as she stands up, getting more into character. “This is my show! This is my ring!” She gestures off to the side. “This cameraman right here? This is my cameraman!” She gestures around the room. “These people, these are all my people, because they acknowledge me!” She then points to him. “These two right here? They work for me! This commentary team is mine because they brag and talk about me the whole time.” She then lifts her arm, pointing to the ceiling. “That sign right there? Is mine! Because I am WrestleMania! I am this show, I run this show, and everybody works for me!” She smirks, head titled. “Including the security in the ring with me.” Joe’s laughter increases as she drops the spatula and throws the hat off along with the sunglasses, also falling out laughing with him.

Ri walks over and climbs onto his lap, asking, “That was good, wasn’t it?” Joe doesn’t hear a response on his end, but he’s certain it was nonverbal acknowledgement.

As the video ends, he finds himself back frowning again.

Close….

They were so close.

Joe switches to a different album, photos this time, his smile returning as he opens a photo she snapped of them laying in bed. He’s clearly asleep, his arm over her body as she smiles happily.

His finger traces over the outline of her smile, a memory popping into his head.

“It’s just so beautiful.”

Joe sighs. Loud.

It’s not often he gets time off, so these next couple days are precious and cherished. And he’d love to kick it off the right way: by getting some much needed sleep.

If only his lovely wife understood this.

Because even though it’s almost 2am, she sits beside him in their bed, emotional for no damn reason at her chosen movie: The Brave Little Toaster.

He blows out a breath. “It’s literally about kitchen supplies.” Joe then asks, confused as hell. “Why the hell you watching this anyway?”

Her answer is rushed and nervous. “Because I watched that creepy ass movie earlier today, and now I need to ease my anxiety.”

Joe closes his eyes, turning on his back, looking at her with all the judgment. “Didn't I tell you not to watch that shit? You know your ass is scary as hell.” As soon as she started giving him a description of the movie, a psychological thriller, he knew she needed to stay far away. Ri has a tendency to overthink films like that, somehow convincing herself that whatever happened in the movie could happen to her.

And that’s exactly what’s happened.

“Well, I didn’t listen to you, okay!” Joe rolls his eyes. Obviously. “So, now I need to watch this soft, cute movie about these brave little utensils.” She starts sniffling. “And it’s just so sad.”

“What they do? Rust?”

“Joe!” She slaps his arm, huffing, “oh my gosh, you have no creative bone in your body.”

“Not at no damn 2 o'clock in the morning, you’re right, I don’t.” He turns back on his side, bringing the blankets up to his neck, snatching back more of the covers from his hogging ass wife. “Now I’m going back to sleep. You enjoy your KitchenAid movie.”

But that’s damn near impossible when she starts crying again minutes later, somehow louder than before.

“He’s just so brave.”

“Oh my god.” Joe closes his eyes, rolling once again onto his back. He pinches the bridge of his nose and reminds himself that this is his best friend and his wife. He can’t grenade this. Can’t and won’t hurt her feelings by telling her to shut the fuck up, even though that’s what he would say if it was literally anyone else. “Your period must be coming because you done gone through all six stages of grief watching this damn kids movie about a fucking toaster.”

Ri gasps beside him, and he can almost feel her dramatic ass, judgmental glare. “I resent you saying that! Just because I’m a woman with feelings does not mean—“ She pauses. “What day is it?”

And before he can answer, she’s kicking the blankets off, climbing over him, and scampering to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Joe is barely even able to turn back on his side when she calls out from the bathroom. “Goddamnit , you man, you! You spoke it over me!”

He sighs. It all makes sense now.

Ri is just an overall emotional, theatrical ass person, but it’s always exacerbated whenever she’s on her cycle. She becomes….difficult.

Super sensitive.

“Shit.”

He hears her curse from the bathroom, but it’s not as loud, not as dramatic. And that’s what catches his attention.

“What?” Nothing. Nothing but the sound of the drawers being opened and almost slammed shut, like she’s in a rush of some sort. Joe kicks the blankets off and walks over to the bathroom. He knocks once, asking, “can I come in?”

She answers by opening up the door only to turn back around, clearly looking for something. “What’s wrong?”

“Damnit!” She snaps, slamming the cabinet shut. “I’m out of tampons.” Ri walks over and gestures to the few she has on the counter. “These are all light.”

Shit.

Right away, he sees her dilemma. There’s no way she can use light tampons for the first night of her period. And the reason he knows this and isn’t weirded out like how some men would be is simple. He grew up the only boy among four sisters, the baby of them all. He’s heard and learned a lot over the years. Some, or maybe a lot of which, he could have gone the rest of his life without knowing. But, some information, like in cases like this, have proved to be a bit helpful.

So, it’s only natural, he offers, “I’ll run to the drugstore right quick.”

Ri turns to him, instantly protesting, “no. It’s late, Joe.” She crosses her arms and shrugs. “I can just, like, stuff a bunch of toilet paper up my vagina for tonight and pray nothing gets stuck.”

He leans against the doorway, easily shooting that down. “Yeah, with your luck, that’s exactly what’ll happen too.” He loves his Ri more than what’s probably healthy, but the girl is accident prone and the queen of freak accidents. “I’d rather get you the damn tampons than spend all night in the ER with you.”

Her not disagreeing with his prediction is telling. She knows he’s right. “Let me at least go with you. I don’t want you out by yourself this late.”

Joe would also not like to be out on the road, hitting up Walgreens for a random ass tampon run, but this is also Ri. And there’s very little he wouldn’t do for her.

If anything.

“I think I’ll be fine, Ri.” He chuckles, walking over to her. She pouts as he kisses her temple. “You’re the one who would get kidnapped or some shit.” He laughs at his comment, a reference to the movie she watched earlier that’s got her up so wide and awake.

She gasps, mouth dropped as she looks up with wide eyes. “See! I told you it could happen!”

Joe walks into their bedroom and throws on some sweats, a hoodie, and slides on some sneakers. He grabs his wallet, keys, and phone as Ri walks out, shuffling over to him and moving up against his chest, hugging him. “You want the chocolate?” She nods. “Milky Ways?”

Again, another nod as she looks up. “And the—”

“Hot fries and Arizona tea. The one mixed with lemonade. I know.”

She pouts. “Thank you.”

He kisses her forehead, murmuring, “I’ll be back.”

He walks toward the door, as she calls out, “I love you.”

Joe chuckles. “I love you too, baby.” He’s halfway down the steps when she screams out from the bedroom.

“Damnit! Now we can’t do the nasty!”

By the end of the memory, a time so much simpler and happier, Joe has his head back, eyes closed, emotions all over the fucking place.

She was his best friend. The person he trusted the most. More than anyone.

And all of a sudden, it was just….gone.

His entire view of her….gone.

Or maybe not.

Because while this nightmare of an accident has taught and shown him a lot, one of the biggest things it’s made him realize is that while his hurt and confusion and betrayal may be strong, his love for her is stronger.

It always has been.

He was just blinded by all of those other miserable, heavy emotions and too stubborn to do anything about it.

And now he’s in this extremely uncomfortable, confusing as fuck dilemma where he has to find someway to manage and deal with these emotions when they should be managed and dealt with with her.

But how can someone forgive someone for something they don’t even remember doing?

———-

Sleeping in a bed that isn’t yours anymore but once was is….weird.

Sleeping in a bed in a bedroom that was once yours is even weirder.

But, staying in a house full of people who feel like and are, for all intents and purposes, complete strangers is the weirdest of them all.

It’s borderline uncomfortable.

Mariella understands the intentions of her parents. Sees how they think and believe her sleeping in her old bedroom could potentially stir some memories. It makes sense. But, it doesn’t work that way.

At least, it’s not working that way for her.

And to her credit, she tries. Tries to observe and almost study the damn near wall full of photos from her childhood, photos of her with people who are both family and friends. She’s not sure if this was just how she last decorated her old room, but something tells her it’s the result of her family's continued effort to jog her memory. It seems….excessive. But from what she’s gathered, that’s also a good word to describe her personality. Extra. Dramatic even.

If only she could….connect with that somehow.

Stepping out of the shower, she takes her time getting ready. Doesn’t rush to get downstairs where she knows she’ll be greeted with a row of smiling, unfamiliar faces. Mariella really does feel bad that she’s having such a difficult time understanding and connecting, because for all intents and purposes, her ‘family’ has been nothing but kind and supportive.

And she knows this has to be difficult for them, but….she can’t force it.

Even if she wanted to.

Because she damn sure does.

It would all be so much easier that way.

Sure enough, the smell of bacon sizzling on the fire and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee isn’t the only thing that’s waiting for her in the kitchen.

Her father is the first one to lay eyes on her, his smile small but oh so genuine. “Morning, Ella.”

Mariella does her best to return the smile. From what she’s seen and heard, she’s always been exceptionally close with her dad. With her whole family, really.

“Morning.”

Her mom turns around at the sound of her voice and entrance, also smiling. It’s bigger and deeper than her dad’s. And she doesn't hesitate to turn the fire on low, clap her hands against her apron and walk over to pull Mariella into a hug.

It’s not missed upon either woman how Mariella initially tenses. And she feels bad for that too. This is her mother for crying out loud.

April pulls back, the sadness and slight level of rejection evident in her pretty brown eyes that Mariella realizes she inherited from her mother. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, it’s…it’s okay.” Mariella swallows, forcing an even bigger smile. “You are my mother, after all.”

April’s smile is tight, the coverup for a disappointment Mariella can’t truly understand. “How did you sleep?”

Not very good. “Fine.” She walks over to the machine, lifting the mug that she assumes belongs to her dad given the same word is written in big red letters on said mug. She reaches it to him.

“Thank you.”

A small nod of acknowledgment as she grabs a new mug and starts to brew her coffee when April speaks from where she stands again by the fire. “I was thinking of going to the promenade today. Olivia is going too. Would you like to join us, Ella?”

Mariella doesn’t have to be looking at her mother to know that while it’s meant to be a question, it’s more of a statement. And while she isn’t opposed, much preferring to be out of the house vs in the house, home videos and photos stuffed down her throat, a true question would be nice vs being told.

“Sure,” she answers with a shrug, turning around and pulling out her phone, opening to the contact she’s found herself thinking about the past couple days.

Joe.

Their last correspondence was almost a week ago. All limited to texts that seem rather on the dry end considering they’re supposed to be married. She doesn’t really fault him though. In his defense, he seems to be wanting to give her space vs coming on too strong.

Unlike her family.

She sighs loudly, fingers hovering over the keyboard as she debates editing, once again, the text she’s had drafted for a couple of days but hasn’t built the courage to send.

Mariella: Can we facetime or something?

It’s such a simple thing that she’s not sure why she’s overthinking. In the little interaction she had with him at the hospital, she could see that despite his size, he’s a man on the quiet side. That calmness was appreciated, and in the midst of being bombarded with information, she’s found herself missing that to some extent.

Missing….missing him to some extent.

Even if it makes no sense to her.

“Morning, family.” Olivia’s voice rings into the air, pulling Mariella back into the present. She’s dressed to the nines, and from that alone, without even needing to be told, Mariella knows her sister is a successful woman. She just looks the part. Liv sets a smile that seems a bit off on her, red lipstick contrasting against her almost unnatural, straight, pearly whites. “Hey, sis. How you feeling?”

Such a big question that seems impossible to truthfully answer to the people who are only trying to help. “Good.” So, she lies. “I guess I’m going out with you all shopping today?”

Olivia rolls her eyes and adjusts the expensive looking designer bag on her shoulder. “Of course, you are. We’ve gotta get you back out there.”

“Olivia…”

Olivia turns to their dad, asking, “what? She has to get back to her life eventually.”

“Leave her be, Liv.”

Olivia rolls her eyes, ignoring April and reiterates, “she needs more than just photos and videos, guys.”

Mariella doesn’t know what she specifically needs but being thrusted into social situations when she still hasn’t memorized her SSN seems to not be it either.

But still, she remains quiet.

“Ella.” Mariella turns to her dad, brows raised. “When’s the last time you spoke to Jo—”

“Oh, Ella, I forgot there was something I wanted to show you.” Olivia interrupts the question Mariella was already thinking about without her dad even needing to ask her.

The thing she’s still thinking about even as Olivia pulls out her phone, inundating some random ass photos from back when she was in high school.

The man she can’t seem to stop thinking about.

———-

As expected, shopping has ended up providing just another form of frustration and level of feeling of being overwhelmed.

It wouldn’t be as bad for Mariella if her mom and sister didn’t feel the need to stop and introduce her to almost everyone who’s familiar, to them, that they come across. She feels a bit like a politician, plastering on smiles that don’t meet her eyes and accepting hugs from strangers. Members from church. Old neighbors. Even an old elementary school teacher.

It’s just weird.

So much so that she eventually has to excuse herself, making up some excuse about a headache as she sits outside on a bench in front of the store where Olivia and April continue to shop.

Mariella is grateful for the solitude and uses that to once again play around with just texting her freaking husband of all people.

She could use some of his quiet right now.

“Mariella?”

One thing that’s improved is her ability to respond to her name, but it’s who says her name that has Mariella more stumped than anything.

He’s standing above her, creating a massive shadow and distraction from her sending out the text she’s not exactly sure she wants to actually send.

He’s wearing a smile that’s objectively friendly, but there’s something about it that feels….off. He’s also objectively attractive, pretty light eyes, tall, sinewy build. Facial features that seem more appropriate for a page out of Vogue vs being on this strip of stores.

“Wow. It really is you.” He scoffs and tucks his sunglasses near the collar of his shirt. “It’s been too long.”

Mariella may not know just who exactly she is, but she does know the difference between being friendly and rude. And she really doesn’t know a nicer way to say her first response other than what comes out. “I’m sorry, I don’t….do we know each other?”

The man frowns a bit. “That’s right. I forgot….” Something tells her he feels uncomfortable outright saying what’s otherwise obvious. Like the fact that she was in a severe accident that knocked the shit out of her.

And her memories.

“My name is Brendan. We….we dated back in college.”

Oh.

Mariella still doesn’t know a lot about herself. Much of anything at all, really. But what she is seeing is that her taste in men is pretty damn good, because this Brendan person is far from ugly. Though it’s hard to not compare. Hard to not think about the contrast between him and Joe, her husband’s voice deep and baritone compared to Brendan’s soprano-like tone. Joe’s massive build to Brendan’s much slender one. Even the height difference. She recalls having to crane her head up to look at Joe. Brendan is a few inches taller than her but nothing significant.

And those comparisons also have her reconsidering, yet again, keeping the text as it is right now, just drafted in her phone. Has her wondering what benefits could be gained from just sending it, seeing what he says.

“Oh.” The word escapes her head but nothing else comes out, Brendan clearing his throat.

“This may be poor wording, but you look absolutely amazing considering….well….”

“That I almost died?” He looks uncomfortable but also amused. “It’s…it’s okay. I guess it’s a compliment.”

“I didn’t realize you were in town.” He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, asking. “How long are you here for?”

Hopefully not much longer.

And it’s a thought that she instantly feels bad about. This is her family, and it’s not their fault she can’t remember. Because they’re trying their damn hardest to change that. But, that’s also a part of the problem.

It’s…..it’s too much.

She feels almost suffocated at times.

Like now with this Brendan person.

“I don’t know.” An honest, truthful answer followed up with more honesty. “But, I’ll be going back to California eventually.” Back to be with her husband. One person vs several who seems really great at giving her information but not too much. Largely only when she asks vs being told in heaps of overwhelming data. “With my husband.”

She doesn’t know why she adds on that last part or why she fiddles with the beautiful diamond on her left hand. The ring that she placed on her finger without much thought when given her items upon being discharged.

Brendan’s lip twitches, his eyes flashing with something that almost looks like irritation. “Of course.” There’s definitely no denying the irritation in his tone. “Listen, I’d love for us to catch up before you leave. A cup of coffee.” Her eyes widen a bit when he adds on, “maybe even dinner—”

“Hello.”

Another voice. This one a bit more familiar. April stands in the doorway of the store with Olivia. They both wear polar opposite expressions. Olivia is smiling in Brendan’s direction while April’s mouth is in a straight line as she moves to stand beside Mariella.

“Mrs. Holmes. Long time, no see.” The irritation is washed away, swapped out with something amiable but also….inauthentic. Mariella doesn’t know if she’s exactly in a place to be judging people or calling them fake when she doesn’t even know who she is, but there’s something….off about this Brendan character.

She doesn’t know a shit ton about Joe either, other than the basics, but right off the bat, between the two of them, she chose the right one to walk down the aisle with.

Her mom’s smile remains tight. “Maybe not long enough.” This takes Mariella by surprise. She hasn’t seen this side of her mother before. Unfriendly, almost.

Olivia, however, rolls her eyes. “Mother, please. You know Brendan also works for the same firm I’m at.” Ahh. That would explain the smile. “Excuse my mom. It’s been….a lot for all of us.”

Now, Mariella is the one fighting back confusion. She gets that this has to be difficult for her family. For her to not remember who they are, but it’s not just them she can’t remember. She can’t remember quite literally anything. She’s the one who’s been impacted the most out of this.

She just kinda wishes they would get that more. Would respect the level of intrapersonal difficulty on her end.

“Of course.” Brendan frowns, but again, it feels inauthentic. “Well, I won’t keep you, ladies—”

“Good.”

Mariella bites down on her lip, turning away to hide her smile as Olivia looks straight up annoyed at April’s coldness.

“I’ll see you at the office, Brendan.” Olivia says almost apologetically, dragging her eyes back to her mom who seems completely unapologetic for her tone.

Brendan nods, landing his gaze back on Mariella. “Remember my offer, Ella.”

She can’t even find it in her to nod or acknowledge his departing message because there’s not a single part of Mariella that wants to entertain his offer let alone take him up on it. Does he not know she’s married?

It’s once he’s gone that April turns toward Mariella, a genuine smile replacing the fake one. “Sweetie, can you go wait in the car? I need to speak to your sister.”

There’s a part of her that would like to overhear this probably interesting conversation, but the desire to just be away and by herself is more overpowering.

“Sure.” She accepts the key fob and shopping bag from her mom, not hesitating to turn on her heel and head back toward the parking lot.

And as soon as she’s gone, Olivia is on April, voice harsh and sharp. “Mother, what the hell was that?”

“Watch your language with me, child.” April’s correction is swift as she crosses her arms. “When did you plan to mention Brendan now works with you?”

“Didn’t realize I had to keep you up to date on the latest hires at my job.” She rolls her eyes, also crossing her arms. “Plus, really, mama? How was that a priority with everything we’ve had happening?”

“Watch it, Olivia.” Aprils loves all her children equally, but Olivia has always been the one to push her close to her limits. “I don’t like that boy. He’s a snake.”

“Oh my gosh…” Olivia turns away for a second, coming back as she points out, “you don’t even know him.”

“I don’t have to know him. You know why? Cause I distinctly remember Joe nearly putting him in the hospital for whatever went down between him and your sister.”

Olivia is taken back for a second. Her mom’s memory is as sharp as the best of them. “You mean when he committed aggravated assault and ruined any chances Brendan had for a basketball career?”

April, however, is not backing down, showing just where Olivia inherited her stubborn personality. “You ever wonder why Joe reacted the way he did? How bad it must have been for him to get that upset?”

“Oh, please. Mama, let’s not act like Joe hasn’t always been a hothead. He’s just better at masking it than BJ.” And before April can protest, Olivia provides facts. “How many times did you and daddy get a call or called down to the office cause BJ got into it with someone, huh? And more often than not, who’d he get in trouble with? Joe.” Olivia shakes her head. “The only reason they always got slaps on the wrist was because they were athletes. Joe has been problematic, and I’m tired of ya’ll not seeing it.” She blows out a big breath. “Brendan is not a bad guy—”

“You saw how he was looking at your sister.” April stresses, lowering her voice. “Don’t no man have no business looking at a married woman like that unless he’s got bad intentions.”

“Ella isn’t even with Joe right now, so what’s the big deal?”

April is quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What are you up to, Olivia?”

Olivia easily slides into deflection. “Mama, you’re always so hyper-vigilant—”

April, however, is wise and knowing. She advises with all the seriousness, “don’t think that because your sister can’t remember nothing that you can just rewrite history.”

“Mama—”

“I’m speaking.” And Olivia quiets down because no matter how old she gets, her mother using that tone will never not be able to set her straight. “Hear me, and hear me good, lil’ girl. Ella is home with us now, yes, but she will be going back to California to be with Joe because he is her husband, and her place is with him.”

———-

Spring, 2023

“You want to what?”

Iris was already having a not so great day. Some inept, thinks he's a hot shot lawyer actually thinking that he can lowball and bully her into convincing a client to accept a deal that’s absolute horse shit.

She had to, of course, show him just why she’s the most sought after manager in entertainment. Ruthlessly.

The thought of his bubble eyes nearly bulging out of his head at her cutthroat response is almost enough for her to actually smile. A rare anomaly that happens every couple of years but is especially not going to happen after what she just heard.

Mariella rolls her eyes, again repeating herself. “I said I’ll do the tour.”

Iris knew she heard her right. It’s just the shock of it all that made her need some level of clarification. “I’m sorry, you do remember that this is a world tour, Ella, right?” And in case she forgot, Iris reminds, “you’d be on tour for nine months.”

“And?” Ella shrugs, continuing to write in her notebook, lyrics of some sort. “It’ll be a great opportunity to connect with my fans.”

“Fuck your fans, Ella.” Iris is quick and borderline nasty with it. “Who gives a fuck about them?” She sits down on the opposite end of the sofa. “I’m thinking about you.”

Iris sees the way that Ella tenses at that last part. “I’m fine, Iris.”

“Bullshit.” She then asks, almost tentatively. “Ella….have you sp—”

“No.” It’s a firm, harsh, borderline cruel shut down. A complete sentence compacted into a single word.

Iris closes her eyes. “I just think—”

“Get me the contract to sign, Iris. That’s all I need you to do.”

If only Iris was a ‘yes’ man. “You think this shit is healthy, Ella? You’re running away.”

“I don’t need your judgment.”

“I would never judge you.” And it’s the truth. Iris may judge quite literally everyone else who walks this earth. But not Ella nor Promise Rose, her best friends since she was a child. And especially….especially not Ella. Not after…..after what happened. “But, I just—you’re not happy, Ella.”

There’s a brief second of hesitation. “I wasn’t happy before it happened, Iris.”

Voice softening, Iris calmly contradicts her, “yes, you were.” Ella closes the notebook, pushing it to the side and pulling her legs up to her chest, looking away. Even without a clear look at her face, Iris knows the emotions are brewing. “I just—I think if you tell him—”

“No!” That’s what makes Ella snap her watery gaze back on her best friend turned manager. “I—I can’t. I won’t. He doesn’t deserve to know.”

Iris closes her eyes. “Ella—”

“Have you told anyone?”

Iris is almost offended that Ella could even fix her mouth to ask such a question. Ella knows how massive loyalty and trust are to her. “Of course, not. I would never. I just….I hate to see you like this.”

For as long as Iris has known Ella, she’s always been an annoying ass ray of sunshine. Always seeing the bright side of things. Glass always half full. But in recent months, especially after that….something in her has snapped, has gone away into deep hiding. And usually, this is when Iris would gladly push Ella in the arms of her husband. He’s always been Ella’s safe person.

Now, Iris can’t even get the two in the same room without an argument breaking out.

They’re both just so….angry with each other.

Or maybe it’s not anger.

Maybe it’s just hurt.

“That’s why I need to get away, Iris.” Ella all but whispers. “I need….I need a new environment. I feel like I’m surrounded by reminders.” She sniffles, quickly wiping at her eyes. “I just….it hurts too much to stick around and have to constantly relive it. I—” Her voice cracks. “Please….please just get me the contract.”

“I will.” Iris doesn’t agree with this, doesn’t like it at all, but she also knows her best friend can be determined as hell. If she doesn’t handle the tour negotiations, Mariella will do it on her own and sign just anything just to get away. To escape. “But, I still think you should talk to J—”

“I hate him!”

No one says anything.

Iris is truly stunned into silence. In the two decades that have transpired since the beginning of her friendship, She has never known Mariella to express such strong sentiments against another human being. It’s almost against her nature.

But to say such a thing towards Joe? Her person?

Iris now realizes just how deeply this hurt and trauma lies.

That maybe….that maybe their relationship truly is irreparable at this point. That lies, deception, betrayal, and everything else under the sun has destroyed something she once thought indestructible.

———-

Present

The last name Joe expected to see pop up on his phone is the exact name that’s flashing along with his contact photo for her which happens to be them a couple years back when they finally went on a long awaited honeymoon to Bora Bora. She’s in front of him, his arms around her, her smile big and wide, eyes closed as he kisses her cheek.

It’s one of his favorite pictures of them, and even after all this time, after everything that’s happened….he hasn’t been able to bring himself to change it.

Even….even when for a brief while, he thought he hated her.

There’s a second of delay as Joe hits the green button, officially accepting her FaceTime call.

His connection is the strongest it’s been all day because she’s almost instantly filling his phone screen.

“Hey….”

She smiles, and Joe takes a minute to take her in. The cuts and bruises on her face have almost entirely healed. She doesn’t look as pale as she was laid up in the hospital bed. Her curly hair is pulled into two space buns. “Hi. Is—is this a bad time?” She’s outside, clearly. In her parents backyard on the swing that holds a million and one memories.

Joe shakes his head. “No.” Even if it was, it wouldn’t make a difference. This is the first time she’s called him since being with her family. He’d make whatever work if need be. “How are you feeling?”

She chuckles, but it’s bitter. Almost resentful. “Overwhelmed.”

Joe sits up more, naturally asking, “you wanna talk about it?”

“Thank you for actually asking.” Her voice is soft as she leans back into the swing, answering truthfully, “I know they mean well, and they’re just trying to help, but—”

He finds it almost too easy to finish her statement. Knowing her, her tics and whatnot has always been so easy. “It’s too much.”

“I just….” She blows out a breath. “You seem a lot more chill, and….and you ask me what questions I have instead of just telling me shit that I don’t remember and feel any sort of way about, even though I know I should.”

“It’s….it’s gonna take time.” And that’s truly a guesstimate on Joe’s end, because the official medical recommendation on her amnesia is that it’s unknown when or if she’ll ever fully restore her memories.

And he’s still so damn torn on just how he feels about that.

“I was wondering…” She looks down, pausing. This is such an unfamiliar thing for Joe. He’s not used to her being so quiet. His wife is many things, and quiet is none of them. “I know you’re on the road and stuff, but…is there anyway I can like….join you for a bit?” She quickly adds, “I don’t know if that’s even a thing—”

“It is,” he finds himself answering. Quickly. Probably too quickly. “I travel on a bus for the most part, stay in hotels for the rest, so if you wanted—”

“I do,” she also answers quickly. “I just…I think I need something different. This.” She motions between herself and the camera. “This is a lot easier than having over 30 years of history shoved down my throat.”

Joe feels for her, hates hearing the conflict in her voice, and he doesn’t blame or fault her family. They’re probably doing the best they can. It’s just….not what she needs right now.

“When…..when can I come?”

The almost desperation in her voice catches his attention, creating a sense of excitement in his stomach that’s quickly quenched by the wise reminder that she’s not coming for him. She’s coming to get away. Not that the specific reason makes much of a difference. He just wants to see her.

“When do you want to come?”

She chews down on her bottom lip. “Would tomorrow be too soon?”

His eyes widen a bit as he clarifies. “Tomorrow?”

She nods. “I’m—I’m sure I can get a flight out.”

She could, but he has a better option. “You should use the jet.”

Ri is understandably confused. “Jet?”

Joe has to remind himself yet again to approach this a bit from a tabula rasa standpoint. “You have a private jet. Through your record label.” He does too, but that’s not what’s important right now. He’s also partially confused why they didn’t take it when flying home to Florida, but it’s not a major thing. Nothing worth thinking too much about.

She makes an ‘O’ with her mouth. “That’s right, we are, like, rich, aren’t we?”

He chuckles. “Now, yes.”

She gives a little smile, asking, “I guess there’s a story there?”

“There’s a lot of stories with us, Ri….” His voice is quiet as he clears his throat, not necessarily wanting to go down that road. “If you’re serious about coming—”

“I am.” She speaks up, shoulders dropping. “I just—I think it’d be nice to spend some time with you. Hear about that part of my life at my own pace.” He nods, understanding where she’s coming from, trying not to put too much into her comment about wanting to directly spend time with him. “Is it just you on the bus?”

“Basically. My cousins sometimes hang out, but they have their own bus, so I gladly kick them out when it starts getting late.”

She smiles, and Joe is close to screenshotting, wanting to add it to his collection when her smile dips into something else, eyes squinting. “J—Jon, right?” Joe sits up more. “And…..Jo—Josh?” He scoffs, in a partial state of disbelief and shock. “They’re….they’re twins, aren’t they?”

He nods, unable to speak. Did….did she really just remember something? On her own?

A frown falls on her face. “I don’t….can’t remember anything other than that and something….I don’t know, something about Uno?”

Joe laughs. The best laugh he’s had in some time, since this whole nightmare began. “Before your schedule got super crazy, you’d come on the road with me, and you and my cousins always played Uno, and it always ended up being a thing because you all suck and can never agree on the rules.”

She giggles, eyes twinkling with mischief. “And what about you? Are you any good?”

He scoffs. “Better than ya’ll.”

Her mouth drops open as she declares. “Okay, then we definitely need to play when I get there. Cause I feel like I might surprise ya’ll. Maybe I could beat you.”

Joe makes a sound. “You can try. You've never been able to beat me. None of ya’ll.”

She crosses her arms and exclaims with all the confidence. “Oh, I’ve gotta knock you down a peg. Are you always this arrogant?” She asks, head tilted.

His correction is calm and assured. “Not arrogant, baby. Confident.”

Her smile deepens, and Joe finds himself enjoying her company more than he has in some time. Even if it’s through a damn phone. “Yeah, well, you’ve got the looks to back it up. Let’s see if you have the talent.”

She has no idea. “Just remember you asked for this.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, and they exchange a prolonged locking of gazes. “I—-that’s the first thing I’ve remembered on my own, and you….you didn’t even have to try to force it.”

She swallows, voice softening. “I’d really like to come see you.”

He wants her to come too. More than she could know. “Text your sister. Everly. Not Olivia. See if she’ll fly out with you. If not, I’ll come. You don’t need to be traveling by yourself.”

Ri frowns. “I don’t—I was medically cleared to travel.”

“Yes, and you did so without incident because your team hadn’t announced you’d been released yet, but now the public knows you’re out. They spot you, and the fucking paparazzi will be all over you. You don’t need that.” Mariella has never enjoyed the constant flashing of lights and cameras in her face anyway.

He doesn’t want her dealing with that on her own. “Okay.” She then asks, “Why not ask Olivia?”

Joe debates how to approach this. “Your sister and I….we’ve never gotten along. If she knows you’re coming to see me, she’ll probably decline to travel with you. Everly is more or less a flower child. She’ll be fine with it.”

It’s the best answer he can come up with in the moment. He happens to think Olivia is a certified bitch who sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong, but he would never do anything to create a biased view of how she sees her sister.

Anyone in her family.

Ri chuckles, and he half expects her to ask why her sister doesn’t like her husband, but she instead hits him with something unexpected. “Do you know who Brendan is?”

And just like that, any relaxed state he had is ripped away with a single name. “Brendan?” She nods. “Where did you see him? How?”

She seems taken back by his questions, and he hates bombarding her, but that fucker is one person that always will be able to get Joe to act out of character.

She honestly offers more information than he was expecting. “I—today at the promenade out with my mom and sister. I get the sense my mom doesn’t like him, but Olivia seemed friendly. I guess they work together.”

Fucking Olivia….yeah, Joe’s definitely gonna have to bite the bullet and text her. Because in no way, shape, or form does he want that son of a bitch anywhere around his Ri. And the fact that he may even be a fucking attorney or lawyer blows Joe’s mind.

That creep should be the one in jail.

“He’s not a good person, and he needs to stay the fuck away from you.” Before she can ask anything else, he tells her, “let me know what Everly says. If not, I’ll have a flight out tomorrow morning.” He’s definitely got to get her out of there now. He wants to put and keep as much distance between Mariella and Brendan as possible, and if she remembered just why they broke up, she’d want the same.

Mariella nods. “I—I can call her now.”

“Do that.”

She swallows. “Okay.” Mariella opens her mouth and seems to hesitate for a minute. “Thank you, Joe.”

Her thanking him feels weird, because he’s never looked for that from her. Never really wanted it really. Just wanted her. Her love. Her trust.

Getting into that not so great place, he shakes his head, reminding, “just text me whenever you find out, I’ll keep my notifications on.

This seems to please her. “Okay.” She gives him another smile. Of a parting and appreciative nature. “Bye.”

“Bye.” She ends the call, and despite him deep down knowing he should wait until he’s calmed down a bit to message Olivia, Joe’s fingers seem to move faster than his brain.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

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a-song-for-ages · 5 months ago

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Down Bad

Mix of hotd series and the books idk maybe

Somewhat eventual willem blackwood fic (age gap of like 13?)

no beta we go down like canon jon snow (he's dead)

pronunciation of daenerys that is used: dy(die)-nair-ris

Summary:

Daenerys Velaryon sees her mother dressed as a nun and knows she's up to no good but decides to let the Queen do as she pleases without interfering. (If only all parents had such children.)

Pt. 1

"Mother," her voice was soft, and still, and it cut through the air like ice. There was no warmth in it, not when she seemed to walk upon on her mother and her dragon - the less sensible of the two dressed like a virginal woman of a Faith she had little love for.

"Di," her mother turned, hair spun like the silver of the moon and gold of the sun - a stark contrast to her own, the black of night, the image that brought upon her family the scrutiny of lesser men and hisses of poisoned vipers awaiting to strike - nevermind the colour of their eyes, so light, her own, so dark, her brothers, and yet, contrasting and complimenting that wine of her own mother's.

Daenerys supposed if she and her brothers were the Targaryen children of Jahaerys and Alysanne reborn again, there would have still been doubts of their parentage, regardless of any dragon born to them in the cradle, or not.

Daenerys also supposed that if Visenya Targaryen had to appear to court in her ashes and declare them legitimate, she would have been questioned. And oh, the poor soul who would dare to do so. Daenerys thought of the three Maesters slain by her son, upon their questioning of his right to rule from the Throne. Would they have rathered he hid in the shadows and rule as the Hightowers did, when her grandsire had turned old and frail, tended to by maesters of their own, sending no word of when he succumbed to death?

There was no word to describe what she felt.

Luke. Dead. Arrax. Dead. Grandsire. Dead. Visenya. Dead.

Dead, dead, dead... dropping like ashen leaves of a weirwood tree.

"I am only going for a... ride," the queen's confidence had slowly died upon her mouth as she noted the pitched black of her daughter's eyes. They were calculating, and cold, and predatory, assessing her the same way Rhaenyra assessed those she had yet to consider as enemy, or ally. A dragon anticipating a hunt.

"If you were, then you would be wearing riding leathers," she said coolly, a brow only raising as the darkness dimmed in her eyes. "But you are not." Then there was a slight tilt to her head, and oh, how Rhaenyra saw her own self in her daughter's stance.

Rhaenyra regained her composure, and stopped her fingers from caressing the cool silver of her rings, when her daughter continued to drawl.

"And while Syrax is so stubborn to have you come to her for a ride," she paused, the dragon trilling a song in the air at the mention of her own name, maw opening the slightest in what would have looked like a gum-filled smile of a child who had gained recognition for a silly act... save for the fact that from Syrax's gums, came came black sword-like teeth protruding straight into one another. "She has come to you."

"A farewell, then, perhaps," her voice was casual, and her shoulders were laxed, but Rhaenyra knew, if anything, her daughter's mind often contradicted what she showed on her body.

"But to where?"

Daenerys had then folded her arms over her chest, and lowered her chin and looked pointedly at her mother - as she did to Jace and Luke and Joffrey and Aegon and Viserys when they were caught mostly by her, trying and failing to do what only she could. (Silly things, Rhaenyra remembered, like stealing the marbled balls from the Council room of her father's... back in King's Landing, when they were so very young, and her father was hale as a horse.)

Rhaenyra shut her eyes and considered telling her daughter the truth, before she decided against it. The less that knew, the better... but that did not mean she would be any less honest to her daughter, who had a most unnerving ability to tell when someone was lying. (And mostly, in her youth, when those light eyes she seemed to get from Aemon Targaryen, if what Rhaenys said was true, would train themselves upon a person, it felt as if she was mostly seeing through them, not at them. It had unnerved Rhaenyra when little Di was a babe, but she slowly grew used to it, until she found herself hoping to hide a thing from someone... and then she would find those ghost eyes of her daughter set on her.)

"I cannot say," she said, swallowing indiscernably, "but I trust that you will keep the knowledge of my venturings to yourself -"

There was a slight smile on her daughter's lips, but it was so bare that Rhaenyra knew it could disappear as quick as a feather on the wind.

Her daughter only nodded, rolling her eyes as she, "So a fool's errand, then."

Rhaenyra pursed her lips, and flexed the hand to her side, breathing out and deciding, "Mayhaps we shall see... I will only know once this course has been taken and done with."

Daenerys did not look entirely convinced otherwise, but Rhaenyra trusted her daughter to keep her secret, as was the habit of theirs, protecting each other's, not as mother and daughter often did, but as something other. Like friends. Like sisters... if Rhaenyra was to have one that would be entirely hers, and not her father's or Alicent's or anyone else with whom she had to share with... then yes, that was what her daughter was to her... and Rhaenyra was never sorry for it. Neither was her daughter, who had only looked slightly annoyed, but accepting and trusting of what her mother had planned. Even if she didn't know the half of it.

Approaching her daughter, Rhaenyra took her cold hands and rubbed them warm, bringing her only daughter to look to her, now, a slight frown had made its way to her lips.

Rhaenyra hated seeing her daughter so displeased, and said, "I will be back before the week's end."

Daenerys's displeasure only grew, as she turned to look away from her mother, not entirely thrilled at whatever information her mother sought to hold from herself - from Jace. She knew once her mother's disappearance became known, he would be the most wroth of them all. And it would only be her who would have to deal with it (now that Luke... Rhaena, Joffrey, Aegon and Viserys were all gone.)

Rhaenyra pulled her daughter in for a tight hug, and Daenerys reciprocated, holding her arms tight round the stiff grey clothes of her mother, and laying her head on her chest. I hope you know what it is you are doing.

"Do not die," was all she said, and when Rhaenyra kissed her daughter on her forelock, Daenerys had pulled away the slightest, eyes larger than a full moon, and shining with worry for all the dangers that could possibly present themselves to her mother.

"Do not worry yourself," Rhaenyra said, smiling at her daughter as she caressed the side of her face. "I will not." And Daenerys seemed to relax in the slightest at that.

"Have Syrax take flight near wherever it is you are to go," Rhaenyra looked as if she were to consider contesting that advice, "or, as far as she can take flight without raising enemy alarms. If she should not do so, then I shall, though only she would know when your life is threatened."

Rhaenyra smiled at her daughter, holding her face in both hands now, and she said, "If this will ease your worry, then of course," and she kissed her daughter on the head, before turning to give Syrax a last look - the she-dragon crooned and shook her head as Daenerys would when she walked out from the sea, body soaking wet, eager to reach the warmer waters in her room...

Rhaenyra turned back to her daughter, and with one last touch of her palm on her cheek, she left.

Daenerys hadn't watched her mother walk away. She hadn't said any goodbyes... hadn't liked any of it, ever since both her fathers departed themselves from her life. (She remembers the many men she considered a father figure... let it be her own grabdsire, or the White Cloak Ser Harrold Westerling, who served her own mother from the time long before she was a babe. They were all either gone now, to the Stranger or Balerion or the Sea or the Roots of the earth, or so far from her that she could not hope to hear their breaths.)

Instead, the young princess looked on into the sapphire eyes of her mother's dragon, and only thought, 'You best protect her when the time calls for it,' which somehow managed to elicit a huff from the she-dragon, who stretched her wings and gave her one last look before she took flight.

No doubt, the dragon named after the Goddess of festivities and drink had seemed to say, 'As if I have not done that my entire life.'

And Daenerys smiled then, ever so slightly, the air around her cold, but the warmth in her palms providing some comfort to her.

#wip: down bad #willem blackwood #di daenerys velaryon #oc: di velaryon #i wanted her nickname to be daen but like dine but i just decided on di #girly is the lady di / princess dianna of westeros bitchesssss #willem blackwood is a badass mf i was down for him since he killed that bracken but for age gap sake he would have been MAXIMUM 13 or 14 #at the time #which means 17 years later he'd be on a range of 29-31 #31 being the maximum #but i mean that age gap is better than daemon and rhaenyra's and then corlys and rhaenys's soooooooo ya #house targaryen #house velaryon #house blackwood #house strong #mentioned:#aemon targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #ser harrold westerling #viserys targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf #fire and blood #daemon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jace velaryon #luke mention #lucerys velaryon #im crying

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 1 year ago

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You’re The Only Girl for Me- Chapter 7

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December 11th (Continued)

Airielle stood to the side and waited for her cue to cut off Kevin Owens as he walked backstage from his interaction with Josh. She nodded once Ryan- the director of the segment gave her a little shove towards Kevin, who was walking her way.

“Kevin, hey Kevin!” She called out rushing towards his side. “Can I have a word?”

“No, have you seen Roman? Airielle shook her head.

“Do you know what he said about my family last week? Huh!? You think I wanted to do that to Jey Uso?! NO!- You don’t talk about my family and now I did that to his family and that’s on Roman- '' Kevin was cut off by Airielle’s scream as Roman came and attacked Kevin from behind. Airielle quickly got out of the way so she wouldn’t get hurt. After hearing the director yell cut, Airielle walked back over to thank Ryan for letting her do the segment.

“Wassup Airi.” After Paul had walked away Joe came and stood next to her.

“Hey Joe,” She said, smiling at him.

“I talked to Yas.” Airielle’s smiled disappeared and she rolled her eyes. “She’s just wants to make sure you ok”

“I knew I should’ve never called her.” Joe laughed and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Nah, she just looking out for you, she’s very protective of you.” Airielle sighed and nodded her head.

“Too protective, I told her I was fine and I had it under control.”

“I’m the same way with Jon and Josh too, us older cousins gotta protect our youngins in the family” Airielle rolled her eyes again.

“It’s nothing to be protected against though.” She said as they started walking toward Joe’s locker room, where Josh was waiting for her. “It’s not that big of a deal.” She added with a shrug.

“I mean, on the walk over to film I've heard ya name at least five times.” Airielle sucked her teeth. “But,” Joe shrugged and stopped her from opening the door to his locker room. “I’m not saying this because he’s my cousin and I love him.” He waited until she nodded to continue. “That shit with Kayla happened one time and I only know that because Josh can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Yeah, I know. We talked about all that already.” Joe nodded with a small grin on his face.

“Alright then.” He said opening the door for her and letting her walk in first.

Josh looked over at them when the door opened and immediately stood up and walked over to Airielle.

“You aight? What happened?” She nodded and told him about her run in with Kayla and the ladies from hair and make-up, the scowl on his face getting deeper and deeper as she continued her story.

“Man, shit wasn’t even like that. You want me to talk to her?” He asked, leading her over to the couch so they could sit down. She sighed and plopped down next to him, snuggling into his side.

“No, Like I told Joe and Yasmine, it’s not that big of a deal. I’m not even worried about it.”

“You sure, I gotta make sure nobody fuckin’ wit’ my girl.” Josh flipped Joe off when he made a fake gagging nose, before walking into the bathroom, to give them privacy.

“Did I stutter?” He asked before leaning down and capturing her lips with his. She reached her hand up to cup his jaw as his tongue slipped into her mouth, both of them letting out a moan.

“Ok, we get it.” Joe said, causing them to break apart. “Can y’all not do that. Some of us are lonely as fuck.” Airielle and Josh rolled their as at him. “I was about to invite you to ride with us back to Pensacola, but not if that’s gonna happen.” Josh sucked his teeth and flipped Joe off.

“Ignore him, you wanna ride back with us? I was gonna ask but I got distracted.” He flipped Joe off again when he snorted. Airielle laughed at their antics and agreed to ride on Joe’s bus back to Pensacola with them.

CHRISTMAS DAY 2020

Airielle bit her bottom lip as she stared at the clothes in her closet. She was meeting Josh’s family for the first time and she wanted to impress them. They had decided to spend a couple hours with his family and then go to her parents house. And she was terrified, Josh would be the first person she brought home to meet her parents in years.

The only upside was that Trinity would be with her with Josh and Jon’s family and Yasmine would be with her with their family.

“You are stressing for no reason.” Airielle said nothing as Yasmine came over and stood next to her. “Just pick something.” Airielle scowled over at Yasmine before picking out an outfit, which in her eyes it was basic as fuck, but it would have to work.

AirielleJones

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“You look terrified.” Josh laughed as he parked his car in front of his mom’s house.

“I am terrified. What if they don’t like me.”

“They gon’ love you Rih. What’s not to love?”

“Ok let me rephrase. What if your mom doesn’t like me?” Josh chuckled and grabbed her hand, lacing a kiss on the back of it.

“It was my moms idea to invite you over for Christmas. Man, she wanted you over here for Thanksgiving. She was upset when you didn’t come” Airielle furrowed her eyebrows.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Josh chuckled again. “Everytime I talk to her she asks about you. She really wants to meet you.” Airielle looked out the passenger window at his mom’s house before letting out a shaky breath and turning back to look at him.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

“Holy shit.” Airielle muttered to herself as she walked inside Josh’s mom's house. She had never seen this many people packed into a house before, there were literally people everywhere.

“Damn,” Josh said, kind of shocked too. He looked over at her when her grip on his hand tightened. “I ain’t know it was gon be this many people.” He laughed and pulled her closer to him when a couple of his little cousins rushed past them, chasing each other around. “Come on, let’s go find my momma.”

They found his mom outback sitting around the firepit with one of his aunties. She looked up when Airielle and Josh walked towards her and jumped to her feet.

“Oh my god. You came.” She said pulling Airielle into a tight hug, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” Mama Fatu said, pulling away so she could look Airielle in the eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you ma’am.” Airielle said and Mama Fatu shook her head.

“None of that ma’am stuff. Call me Talisua.” Airielle smiled. “Are you hungry?” Tulisua turned her attention to Josh. “Don’t just stand there. Get the girl something to eat.” Airielle giggled at the look Josh gave his mom. “Come sit.” Talisua said, pointing to the empty chair that was now in the middle of her and Josh’s aunt.

“You are so pretty.” His aunt said and Airielle felt her face heat up at her compliment.

“Thank you.”

“So tell me about yourself. Josh told me that you are a backstage interviewer.” Airielle nodded. “How did you get into that?” Airielle had basically gone over her whole life story, minus the parts that she would take to the grave before Josh came back with two plates that were packed with food.

“You’re only twenty-nine?” Josh’s aunt asked, perplexed. “You do know my nephew is thirty-five. That’s not too old for you?” Josh rolled his eyes as he handed Airielle one of the plates. He probably should have warned her about his nosey ass aunt.

“No, and I'll be thirty in February, so I mean. It’s not like he’s ten years older than me.” Airielle trailed off with a shrug. She never really put any thought into their age difference and it wasn’t a big gap for there to be any issues.

“Don’t worry about her.” Talisua rolled her eyes at her sister. “She’s always looking out for her nephews.” Airielle nodded understandingly.

“It’s totally fine. I’m sure my family will be worse.” She said laughing.

Christmas with Josh’s family was going way better than she expected. She had met his two other brothers, Sefa and Jeremiah and their girlfriends. She had met a shit ton of his family members. She knew he had a big family but the amount of people that she met was absolutely crazy.

“Hey it’s getting late.” Josh said. “We still gotta go to your parents house.” Airielle nodded and stood up with Josh, saying their goodbyes to everyone before heading out to the car.

“See that wasn’t so bad was it?” He said, smirking over at her.

“Honestly, no. Your family is cool as hell.”

“Damn, this a nice ass house.” Josh whistled as he pulled into the driveway of Airielle’s parents house.

“It’s okay,” Airielle said and she took his hand so he could help her out of the car.

“Just okay?! You trippin’ this shit is huge. You grew up here?” She nodded her head.

“Yeah, it’s not my childhood home though, we moved to Pensacola when I was in the ninth grade.” He nodded his head, remembering when she told him that. “Ok. you ready?” She asked once they were at the front door.

“Yeah, I'm ready. Why you look nervous?”

“Because I am.” She whined and Josh laughed before pulling her into his arms.

“Relax, please.” She nodded before leaning up and capturing his lips with hers. Their lips moving slowly against each other. She let out a moan when his hands slid down to her ass, giving it a squeeze, before he pulled away.

“Yeah that’s not what I wanted to see when I opened the door.” Airielle jumped and turned to face her father before smiling sheepishly at him.

“Hi daddy.”

Next chapter Josh meets her family and learns a secret about Airielle. 🫶🏽

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