#godflcw

The temptation to chew up the pain killer was there, to try to hasten the effects of the over-the-counter medication but Karen already had a bitter taste left in her mouth from her very long day and she didn't want to add that acrid bite along with it. A sip of water and a tilt of her head allowed the pills to be swallowed easily, and even though the bottle of Excedrin were replaced, her backup medication was grabbed out of the cabinet just in case. She heard the sigh behind her, but a shake of her head was given.

"We don't have to talk about it," came her remark through a tightening throat, the tears threatening to spill but blinked back rapidly before she shifted to reach for a hairbrush. "I get it, I know, it's the business, blah blah blah." The business still hurt at times, though, didn't it?

Especially with him.

She worked through some hair oil into damp tresses before working out the tangles, feeling him move up behind her, his presence almost suffocating in the already steamy bathroom.

His words were a quiet admission, the weight of a hand hovering over her hip but not touching her. ❛  i don’t want to keep our relationship a secret anymore.  ❜ There was a pause, brush and hand resting on the counter as her own eyes met @godflcw's in the mirror. She was silent, considering his words and her own response.

Bitter chill, fog-plume for breath, beanie down over his ears...he's built for this, but that doesn't change the fact one particular elbow has started to protest more when the weather decides it's time for a dip into fuck no territory.

Twenty-two odd years and that's his biggest ailment? He's doing just fine.

"So." He cracks another disposable hand warmer packet. Slots it into the back of his left glove. "This is the part where I pretend I meant to text you again this year, right?" There's a burn of shame in him, truth be told, that the best he could manage was a happy birthday text. Also confusion that, standing here, it's like no time has passed at all. How does he reckon with that? How does he swallow it back, make any of it stay down? He can't blame everything on being useless with a phone, as much as he tries to.

"This is the part where we hug it out." He's more confident about that. "This is the part where I blame life and my head and whatever the hell else." Here he is, taking on all of the blame, like always. Good dog.

But here he is, all the same- hopeful, trying to reconnect, eyes bright despite the sun against snow in this goddamn airport parking lot.

@godflcw said ❝ i don't have time for distractions right now. ❞

with    a    slice    of    lime    and    some    fresh    mint    leaves,    he    makes    the    cocktail    look    mostly    decent.    more    than    his    appearance    as    hour    seven    of    his    twelve    hour    day    struck. ⸺     heart    beating    in    his    throat    when    he    approaches    the    table    the    football    guys    had    taken.   

one    drink    served    at    a    table    of    .    .    .    he    never    counts    how    many    of    them    are    actually    there    when    he    puts    the    glass    down    in    front    of    the    one    he    has    his    eyes    on.    “    on    the    house.    “    moxley    says,    sheepishly    hiding    behind    golden    curls    that    are    his    bangs.    brief    moment    of    eye    contact    ⸺     baby    blue    meets    gray.    fuck.    he    hurries    away,    pathetically    and    .    .    .    devastated,    perhaps.    devastated    because    what    was    he    thinking    ?    what    was    jon    moxley    thinking    trying    his    chances    with    the    man    that    roman    reigns    is    ?    the    door    to    the    kitchen    falls    shut    behind    him.    fuck    ⸺    and    he    would    have    to    go    back    for    the    bill.                    @godflcw

─── i did a number on your back. sorry about that.

he says it liked she’s ever cared. liked she’d ever once complained about physical reminders of last night’s activities. “ 𝐧𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 ” sorry, she means. never has been, and she’s never expected him to be. roman’ll send her back to work, begrudgingly, with those same physical reminders, physical reminders that it happened and that she doesn’t belong to them, quite the opposite. she knows. doesn’t bring it up to him, now — avoiding confrontation is best — but she knows. “ 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 ” / @godflcw

@godflcw sent 🩹 (send  🩹  to  patch  my  muse  up  after  a  fight.)

❝ 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 ! ❞ said immediately as roman takes a step towards her. already having scared the medics off to leave her alone to tend to her own wounds. she may be bleeding but the added humiliation of admitting she needs help is not on the list of things to do. ❝ i don't need your help. ❞

dark eyes watch him cautiously as he ignores her warnings and closes the space between them. rhea doesn't continue to protest as the damp towel is taken from her own hand and gently applied to the wounds on her head. a wince escaping her lips as he continues to clean her up.

He was allowed into her home, welcomed in and Karen moved through the motions almost robotically as she locked the door behind him and then went to the kitchen to grab a beer from her refrigerator, top popped off and beverage handed off to him as he settled comfortably onto her couch.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, plucked up and unlocked for Karen to read over the text, distracted, forgetful that Roman sat just feet away from her, watching, calculating, considering.

❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜ @godflcw's words were even, voice level, but it commanded attention from whoever it was directed at and currently? It was directed at Karen.

The blonde's head snapped up, eyes meeting Roman's, her look momentarily confused before she realized why he spoke up. She'd been worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she stared at her phone, that telling sign that she was troubled by something, and obviously he had picked up on it. Karen locked her phone, shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans before she shook her head.

"Uh, no, nothing to say. Just lost in thought." She cleared her throat, plucking up the glass of water she'd been working on to take a sip and allow the nerves in her stomach to settle before she moved for the chair across from the couch, seated a little too stiffly on it. "What brings you here?"

The crowd was thick, mingling and chattering as the string quartet's music provided ambiance for the fundraising gala, wait staff moving effortlessly among the throng with trays of hors d'ouevres and glasses of champagne being plucked up freely by those in attendance. Karen was among the masses with Roman by her side, her dress modest and unassuming, his suit pressed and tailored to perfection, hair slicked back and up. His hand was settled comfortably, possessively, even, at the small of her back, thumb sliding up and down as Karen spoke Senator Ori's wife with a tight, polite smile plastered on her face. When the woman turned to leave, the tension that kept Karen's body rigid seeped out of her and she leaned in to Roman's touch more comfortably.