Black Crescent Bay

waverly fucking adler

A/N:

what it do baes, gays, and they? How are y'all? Y'all good? The world still feels empty for me, thanks for asking. Maybe my manic episode left. Or maybe it hasn't since I've been up all fucking day and night and haven't slept because I'm a goddamn nuisance?

Like honestly maybe it's just my fuking hormones. Like maybe I'm ovulating or something? Because I literally started a fight wit my beloved last night when he couldn't remember how much weight he used to be able to lift when he was on the swim team in high school. NO seriously. Like........... maybe I have issues. and maybe he deserves better.

i, of course, apologized. SO ANYONE WHO WANTS TO SNATCH HIM UP CUZ YOU THINK HE"S ON THE MARKET NOW, BACK THE SHIT AND FUCK UP HOE! that boy is mine <33333333

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I called Waverly as soon as I was conscious enough to think of what had happened. I threw my body backwards across my sofabed and when she groggily answered, I listed my demands, though, in my dire situation, she did not make any objections.

"Coffee, potions & things, right now."

'Right now' was the loosest of my demands. It was implied that we both had time to look our best before we stepped a toe into the outside world. I adorned my body in a cheetah body suit, black leather shorts, thigh-high suede boots with shimmering gold laces, and a sheer black dress that was only connected at the cups of breasts to add an element of eloquence to the entire attire.

I looked hot, to be true. And my makeup, just a smoky eye and a black sparkly gloss, were simple in comparison but they were only the finishing touches. It took an hour and a half, which was actually good timing, thank you very much. And I ruined it all by running the entire way to the shop.

"Waverly," I gasped for air as I crashed right into the seats of the booth. She pushed the coffee she'd ordered for me over to my side, meanwhile, I ignored the annoyed exhaustion in her blue underbags, "Waverly-fucking-Adler!"

"It is 9AM." It was only then I noticed she was still in her pajamas with unbrushed hair and coffee-stained teeth. "I've been waiting here for over an hour."

I sipped my coffee. It was cold. Ice cold. And the foam on top had long-since dissolved in the murky bean water.

"Oh, well, I thought it was implied that we were allowed to look hot," she went to interject, but I shook my head, "regardless, you look stunning anyway," she looked unconvinced, but I continued anyway, "I have a date. Soon. I don't know when. But he's coming to get me."

She raised an eyebrow, "Well, did he sound that threatening when he wooed you off your feet, or was that a creative liberty you chose to add to the tale?"

I stared at her blankly before chugging what was left of the coffee, "It was not meant to sound threatening. It was more spontaneous than anything."

"Well, just whom is the lucky gent?"

That's the question that terrified me. I knew she was going to ask, of course, but I still wasn't ready. At least not to say that she was right all along. I chewed back my pride and ran my fingers through my messy curls.

"Fishboy." I didn't watch her annoyed expression blossom with the wiseguy joy that all best friends get when they prove you wrong in your own love life, "And, despite popular opinion, he isn't a fish. Like he's just a normal human being."

I tried to avert the conversation elsewhere. I figured before I might've been too transparent about everything that was happening. With fish people and dreams that were real. I couldn't remember if I'd mentioned the soulmates thing to her, but considering how I'd been forthwith with everything else, the outlook wasn't too good.