#and I hope you dream of them as I will tonight!

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

WAITING AIN’T EASY

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after 6 gruelling months of long distance with drew, y/n decides to surprise him on set. listen to ‘waiting ain’t easy’ — Evan Honer!!

based on this ask !! i really hope you enjoy my lovely :) amazing ask as always !! i made a little twist on it though, and added some angsty goodness to make it more emotional <3

WARNINGS: angst to fluff, fighting, crying, mentions of breaking up, long distance relationship, like one (?) curse word, brief mention of cheating rumours (made by the media) and i think that’s it? (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N stared out at the crashing waves outside her beachfront rental in Australia, the sun dipping low in a painted sky of reds and golds. Normally, she would've snapped a picture to send Drew, knowing how much he loved sunsets. But tonight, her phone sat abandoned on the kitchen counter, vibrating occasionally with notifications she couldn't bring herself to check.

It had been nearly six months since she'd left for Australia to film her new movie, a dream opportunity that she'd accepted with boundless enthusiasm. Drew had been so supportive at first, kissing her forehead and promising her they'd figure it out. "Eight months will fly by," he'd said. "We'll make it work." And for a while, they had.

The first few months had been manageable—late-night FaceTime calls, text messages scattered throughout the day, photos exchanged to make each other smile. But as the weeks turned into months, the strain started to show. The time difference, their conflicting schedules, and the exhaustion from their respective work had turned their once-effortless connection into something fragmented and brittle.

And then there were the rumors.

The first article had popped up about a month ago, with pictures of Y/N and her co-star, Paul Mescal, leaving a restaurant. They'd been with a group of castmates, but the tabloids didn't care about context. The angle made it look intimate, as if the two of them had been alone. Headlines screamed: "New Flame on Set?" and "Trouble in Paradise for Drew Starkey and Y/N?"

Drew hadn't believed the rumors—not really. He knew how tabloids worked. But the seed of doubt had been planted. Their conversations became laced with tension. "Why didn't you tell me you were going out?" Drew had asked one night, his voice tight.

"I didn't think I had to give you a play-by-play of my day," she'd snapped, the exhaustion from a grueling shoot making her sharper than she intended.

"I'm not asking for a play-by-play, Y/N. I just want to know what's going on in your life. Is that too much to ask?"

The fight spiraled from there, unresolved, and left a bitter taste that lingered.

Tonight, their most recent argument had pushed them to a breaking point.

She answered the phone after his third call, her voice strained. "Hey."

"Hey," Drew replied, the weight of unspoken words heavy in the silence that followed.

"I'm sorry I didn't call earlier," she began, trying to preempt his frustration. "I got caught up on set, and—"

"Y/N, you always get caught up on set," Drew interrupted, his tone clipped. "I'm starting to feel like I'm not a priority anymore."

Her heart sank. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it? Because it feels like I'm the only one trying here."

"Trying?" she repeated, her voice rising. "Drew, do you know how hard this has been for me too? I miss you every single day, but I can't just drop everything to cater to your insecurities."

"Insecurities?" he echoed, incredulous. "You're calling me insecure because I want to spend more than five minutes talking to my girlfriend? Because I'm tired of feeling like I'm the last thing on your mind?"

"Don't do this," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Don't twist this into something it's not."

"Then tell me what it is, Y/N," he shot back. "Because right now, it feels like we're falling apart."

Her throat tightened. "Maybe we are," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Drew exhaled shakily on the other end of the line. "Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know what I believe anymore," she admitted, tears streaming down her face. "This... this isn't what I thought it would be. I didn't think it would hurt this much."

"You think I don't hurt too?" His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "You think I don't lie awake every night wishing you were here? That I don't feel like I'm losing my mind wondering if this is worth it anymore?"

Her chest tightened painfully, but she couldn't find the words to soothe him. To soothe herself. The weight of their love—their pain—pressed down on her like a crushing wave.

"I can't do this right now," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Drew said bitterly, "of course you can't."

And then the line went dead.

Y/N stared at the screen, her hand trembling as the call ended. She wanted to call him back, to take it all back, but the words hung in the air between them, too heavy to ignore.

Halfway across the world in Charleston, Drew sat in his apartment, his phone clutched in his hand. He stared at the empty screen, the echo of their fight replaying in his mind. The silence in the room was deafening, the loneliness suffocating.

They were both alone, yet they'd never felt further apart.

—

Drew sat on set, legs stretched out as he leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. The day had been slow, and while he loved working on Outer Banks, his mind wasn't fully there. It hadn't been for weeks. The weight of his argument with Y/N lingered, the harsh words and silence that followed gnawing at him.

He sighed, locking his phone and tossing it onto the nearby table. The OBX cast was scattered around the set, some chatting, others grabbing snacks. Madelyn, Madison and Carlacia were huddled together near the craft services table, giggling about something. Their sudden burst of laughter caught Drew's attention.

"What's so funny?" he called out, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing!" Madison replied quickly, a little too quickly. She nudged Carlacia, who bit her lip to stifle another laugh.

Suspicious, Drew tilted his head but didn't press further. He wasn't in the mood for their antics today. As much as he loved his friends, all he really wanted was Y/N. Six months apart felt like an eternity, and knowing they still had two more months to go made the ache in his chest worse.

What he didn't know was that Y/N was only minutes away.

Y/N stepped off the plane, her heart pounding as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. She had managed to keep the wrap of her film a secret from Drew, wanting to surprise him in the best way possible. It hadn't been easy; she'd had to bite her tongue during their rare phone calls and carefully avoid social media posts that might tip him off.

Madelyn, Madison and Carlacia had been the first people she told about her plan, and they had been more than happy to help. When she landed, they were waiting for her, practically vibrating with excitement.

"You ready to blow his mind?" Madelyn asked, grinning as she pulled Y/N into a hug.

"I've never been more ready," Y/N said, her nerves and excitement warring within her.

Carlacia held up her phone, ready to document everything. "Okay, we've got this all planned. He's sitting in the main lounge area. You just walk in, and we'll follow behind you."

Y/N nodded, exhaling shakily. "Let's do this."

Back on set, Drew was oblivious. The girls had disappeared somewhere, but he didn't think much of it. They were always running off to do their own thing. He leaned forward, rubbing his hands over his face as exhaustion crept in.

The sound of footsteps approaching barely registered until he heard a familiar voice, soft and hesitant.

"Hey, Starkey."

Drew's head whipped around so fast that his chair tipped backward, clattering to the floor. He stumbled to his feet, his heart racing as his eyes locked on her.

"Y/N?" His voice cracked, disbelief written all over his face.

Before she could say another word, Drew launched himself toward her, nearly tripping over his fallen chair in his haste. He reached her in seconds, his arms wrapping tightly around her as he lifted her off the ground.

"Y/N," he choked out, his voice breaking as he buried his face in her shoulder.

She clung to him just as tightly, her arms wrapped around his neck as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Hi, baby," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Drew pulled back just enough to look at her, his face streaked with tears. "You're here? How are you here? I thought—"

"My shoot wrapped early," she interrupted, laughing through her tears. "I wanted to surprise you."

Drew didn't hesitate. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss so full of love and longing that it made Y/N's knees weak. Around them, the cast erupted in exaggerated groans and laughter.

"Get a room!" Rudy teased, shielding his eyes dramatically.

"Y'all are gonna make me cry," Carlacia joked, still filming the entire moment.

When Drew finally pulled away, his forehead rested against Y/N's, his tears falling freely now. "God, I missed you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I missed you so fucking much."

"I missed you too," Y/N said, her hands cupping his face as she brushed away his tears. "I'm so sorry, Drew. For everything. For the fight, for the silence. I hated it. I hated being apart from you."

"Me too," Drew admitted, his voice cracking again. "I was so scared, Y/N. Scared I was losing you."

"Never," she said firmly. "I was scared too, but I never stopped loving you. Not for a second."

Drew let out a shaky laugh, his arms tightening around her as if he were afraid she might disappear. "Waiting ain't easy," he said softly, his eyes searching hers, "but it's worth it for you. Always."

Y/N felt fresh tears well up as she kissed him again, pouring every ounce of love and reassurance she had into it. When they finally broke apart, the cast was clapping and cheering, much to Drew's embarrassment.

"Alright, alright, show's over," Drew said, his cheeks flushed as he waved them off. But he couldn't stop smiling, and his hand never left Y/N's.

Carlacia walked up, showing them the video she had taken. "You two are gonna want this later. It's a tearjerker."

Drew chuckled, pulling Y/N closer. "Thanks, Laci."

As the cast gave them some space, Drew turned to Y/N, his eyes still glistening. "You're really here," he said again, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

"I'm here," she confirmed, her smile soft. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Drew's expression softened, his love for her radiating in his gaze. "Good. Because I don't ever want to do this without you again."

They spent the rest of the day glued to each other, catching up, apologising, and soaking in every second of finally being together again.

For the first time in six months, everything felt right.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such an adorable one to write :’) i love writing hurt/comfort, it’s just my absolute fave genre of ff !! i really hope you enjoy this @xoxosblogsblog <3

[axetivev]

~🌘 Nightmares!

Damian Wayne & M!Reader

(Slight?) Bruce Wayne x M!Reader

~ Summary:Damian was having a nightmare. He'd usually brush it off and try to do something—anything to forget those dreams. But tonight, something rather unexpected happened.

~ Warnings:Fluff

~ Words: 624

~ Note:Yahoo! It's my first time posting something on Tumblr, I barely know what I am doing— but regardless. I hope you enjoy this fic! :3

FYI, I do these fandoms;

PGR (Punishing: Gray Raven)

HSR (Honkai Star Rail)

AK (Arknights)

DCU (Majority about Batfam lol)

PROSEKA (Project Sekai) !!

You can find me on :

Twitter : AxetiveV

AO3 : Axetive

Being Bruce Wayne’s husband could be quite one of a challenge. Other than the media would go nuts and paparazzi Y/N Wayne, asking him questions. He also has to worry about the super-villains in Gotham targeting him knowing he was the husband of the richest man in Gotham. And much other.

But there’s one thing that Y/N often struggled with; dealing with Bruce’s kids. Well, everyone was easy to deal with. Expect… Damian Wayne. Who often sees him as a competitor to his mother, and would often try to kill the poor second father to him, from Dick to Duke everyone was a piece of cake to deal with but not Damian. But this night, perhaps. Changed.

Y/N was alone, reading a book in the shared bed where he and Bruce would spend the night while wearing one of Bruce’s clothes. But of course, Bruce being Batman would go for patrols on the night streets. Y/N was fine about this but not for Damian, as stubborn as he was, asking to join but since he have school. Bruce refuses. Which leaves Damian in his room, everyone thought he was asleep. But in the middle of the night—Unsure by time. The door of the shared bedroom opened, with Damian and Titus standing beside the boy who was carrying a pillow with weary eyes which worried his papa.

“Is everything alright, Dami?” Y/N closed his book with a worried expression. As Damian shook his head.

“…Pa…Papa. Would I disturb you if I… needed comfort?”

Y/N blinked to the boy’s statement, but he simply smiled. Sitting to the edge of the bed, he gently patted the other side of the bed. Damian then made his way to sit next to his second father, followed by Titus who stood on the ground firm. Y/N then gently guided the boy to rest his head against his lap. Once he was settled, with a slow and delicate movement. His hand brushed over the boy’s hair while keeping their silence between them. It wasn’t the silence of seriousness. It was simply a silence of calmness, a quiet moment between father and son. Something Damian barely had with Bruce.

Damian was born to be a weapon (other than Cass), to be an assassin who was just cold and firm and barely showed humanity. But the moment he met Bruce—Alfred and his older siblings, followed by Y/N, Damian’s stoic demeanor melted as they showered him with love he always deserved. Burying his emotions wasn’t the answer. He hated the fact he could show vulnerability, but for this night? He just let it go. The feeling of Y/N's hand brushing his hair and him while saying sweet whispers and affection words was enough to let Damian fall and continued his slumber.

As the clock continued to tick, and Damian finally fell asleep once more. Y/N sighed with relief, he adjusted their position. Letting the sleeping Damian rest beside him, as he tugged the boy. Before soon, tiredness followed Y/N his eyes were heavy. He hugged Damian, smiling to himself. As for Titus, was curling close to Damian.

Soon, Bruce came back after patrol with weary eyes while casually still in his suit. He yawned the moment the Dark Knight opened the door to the bedroom. His eyes widened seeing the sight behold in his very own eyes; the love of his life, Titus, and his biological son. Who was “hating” Y/N’s presence in the Manor. Hugging each other like a mother who hugged her son who has a nightmare. This sight made Bruce smile, soon, he joined two of them, Bruce big spooning against Y/N. The four sleep like one happy family.

Alfred? He was taking a picture of the wholesome scene.

[notsofrozt]

Bingliushen fic recs in no particular order (buckle up this is going to be long):

Shen Qingqiu Gets Mad: The Fic by poison_dart_frog (T)

After the destruction of their third house, Shen Qingqiu leaves Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge alone until they get their shit together. Without Shen Qingqiu there, Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge are forced to spend time together, rebuild a house, and (hopefully) win back their husband. Easier said than done when it’s an emotionally constipated war god and crybaby demon lord that is having to get along. (It's more towards the BingLiu side, but a 10/10 regardless)

⚔️

something you don't give much attention by brosnyaa (E)

The one where Liu Qingge actually wins a fight and Luo Binghe ends up getting a little hot for Shishu.

⚔️

Universal Simps by chaoticgoodlawyer (M)

Luo Binghe had been trying to tell his husband something for some time, but Shen Qingqiu just wasn't getting it. The System helps the Protagonist out by forcing Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe, and Liu Qingge into his husband's original world. Hijinks ensue. Moshang are just along for the ride. (In which Shen Qingqiu stops being so oblivious, and Bingqiu gain a boyfriend.)

⚔️

something 'bout tonight feels meant to be by lavenderandrue (T)

one time at a party i kissed someone's girlfriendboyfriend and to make sure he wasn't mad about it i just kissed him too... i blacked out and woke up to a text in a groupchat with both of them that said "did u make it home safe baby? <3"

⚔️

I Dream You’re Still Breathing (don’t wake me up) by PeerlessCourgette (marimorimo), scholomancefan (E)

When he’d awoken in the Sun and Moon Dew Mushroom body, Shen Qingqiu had intended to get as far away as possible from everyone in his past; especially Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge. Instead he found himself a helpless bystander to the fight between them. But when Liu Qingge is hurt–seriously hurt–Shen Qingqiu knows leaving is no longer an option.

⚔️

to light the hearth by lemonlight (E)

Liu Qingge said something he's always intended to keep private. Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu show him - thoroughly - that his feelings are not as unreciprocated as he thinks.

⚔️

Putting the 'Hit' in 'Hit On' by Prudabaga (E)

In which Luo Binghe unknowingly engages in demonic flirtation with Liu Qingge via punches, and everyone knows about it and is cool with it. Luo Binghe just wishes someone had told him.

⚔️

Today, and every day after by summerdays_winternights (E)

“Junshang, the human that has been courting you for the past seven years with the duels? And by bringing Consort Shen his conquests? He is the one that brought the deer to you, correct?” Luo Binghe nods, still in a daze. “Yes, that’s Liu Shishu.” “Mn,” Mobei-jun nods. “Will you be accepting his courting soon? Qinghua says there are many demons who wish to court him if you two do not accept.” What the fuck? What the fuck? Like hell he’s going to let some trash court Liu Qingge. Wait. Oh.

⚔️

Ship Wars: A New Hope (RPF Edition) by PeerlessCourgette (marimorimo), scholomancefan (E)

A fresh infusion of smut to rival Regret of Chunshan has flooded the jianghu—and for once, it’s not Shen Qingqiu x Luo Binghe! Shen Qingqiu breathes a sigh of relief. But his reprieve is short-lived. What the fuck is “Bingliushen”?!

⚔️

Two PIDW Cosplayers Broke Into My Apartment And Saved My Life but They Hate Each Other and Keep Breaking My Things by Kamaete-(E)

Shen Yuan wakes up, in his apartment, to two impossibly beautiful cosplayers (their special effects look too good to be cosplayers though) fighting (over him? He hopes not. They keep calling him Shen Qingqiu and he's not sure he likes the comparison).

⚔️

A Flaw in the System by CheckersXIV (M)

Shen Yuan has been working in the 99th Precinct for a grand total of three months. He’s pretty certain he deserves an award for being able to adjust to the absolute bullshit that happens here. (A Brooklyn 99 AU, pretty cool)

⚔️

best of both worlds by ChezPillow (PillowLord) (M)

Everyone knows that the singer Zheng Yang uses an alias. Only a select few knows the man behind the music idol. Luo Binghe prefers it that way.

⚔️

In the Pit by ShanBlackRX (E)

When Shen Yuan perked his head up to the raw punk song flooding Liu Qingge’s living room, taking interest in the insane bass line that was playing then, Liu Qingge didn’t expect him to slowly but surely obsess over this band within the subsequent weeks, asking to borrow his albums so he could tear apart their musical skills and start to actively engage in conversations about them with his friend.

Requested by @axxa-the-allikatt, @anonimgato1507, @thischickiswack

[okkotsuus]

crawlin' back to you (rensuke k.) !

features: rensuke k.

contents: established relationship. spoilers (second selection). a smidge of comfort. cliff hanger because i hate you <3

notes: hey lol, kinda bad because i have to get back into my flow state iykyk

The Blue Lock program: a selection meant to hone 300 high school kids down to 1 legendary striker.

When you sent off Rensuke with a kiss and soft murmurs of your certainty of his success, you never thought that it would end you up here. Sitting on your couch, doing some calculus homework while watching the U-20 v. Blue Lock exhibition match.

It stirred a strange feeling in you when you didn't see that familiar head of tousled orange hair even once on the plasma screen in front of you.

Maybe he was just sick? Or he was temporarily injured, so he couldn't play.

Surely.

But, even then...

Wouldn't he have at least been on the bench?

It sent a wave of unease through you, at the thought that something could have happened to divert his lifelong dream. But thinking that way wouldn't solve anything, that was something Rensuke taught you himself: positivity is key.

So, you blindly cheered for Blue Lock, even running laps around the kitchen when they ended up pulling off a win. Those boys were talented, so knowing that Ren was chosen to be with them made you all the more sure of his success.

The program went nearly radio silent for a two week period following the match.

Still no sign of your ginger striker.

Days were long, all your classes felt so much more droning without him sitting at your side. It was beginning to wear on you.

Then, it came as a sudden announcement. The 'Blue Lock: Neo-Egoist League' would be premiering tonight at 3pm JST. All plans were canceled, you were firmly planted on the couch, shooing away your siblings as you clicked onto the waiting screen.

It started with a click, showing all the players gathering into a room with the former Japanese U-20 Team. No Rensuke.

They featured different players as they explained the different stratum they could choose. The five European leagues that dominated the modern soccer world: France, Spain, England, Italy, and Germany.

Watching all the players debate where they wanted to be, the uncertainty of the U-20 Match prodigy: Yoichi Isagi. You were forced on the edge of your seat, knee bouncing idly as you hoped and prayed desperately to see the face of the boy you really needed to see.

Even as they all went their separate ways, still nothing. You were beginning to lose hope. Slowly, your focus began to fade away, half-way actually watching the broadcast.

"Now enter! The lone survivor of the Wild Card program..." Now that, that had your attention. "The last dark horse..."

It couldn't be...

"Rensuke Kunigami!"

There. That's him.

Even under that ruffled, grown-out, carrot top. Even with those darkened, hollow amber eyes. Even with a change in his physique, his gait. You would recognize him in any and every form.

Your Ren, in the flesh.

Tears welled in your eyes as your ears rang, unable to hear anything as you watched his mouth move a few times back and forth with Isagi. Then, they cut to a training exercise.

Something happened to die out the light in his eyes. And guessing by the way Ego introduced him, he was probably intended to have lost and left the program; but he won his way back.

No wonder you hadn't seen him in the exhibition match.

He was suffering trying to claw his way back to his dream, while you were just sitting here moping. Pathetic.

It lit a spark in you. You had to see him, as soon as possible.

Great minds think alike, ego attracts ego; even if it is at the subconscious level.

It took a lot of calls, letters, and video chats. But, within ten days, you were permitted to enter Blue Lock to observe a match between Bastard Munchen and FC Barcha: the first game of the League, under the guise of enhancing Kunigami's morale.

Ego agreed to this deal on the main term that you would not be able to watch the match, nor take any sort of electronic device on your person past the facility doors. Likely, to prevent copyright infringement.

You didn't have to think before agreeing.

In a cold room, surrounded by metal walls, you waited. The game lasted nearly 70 minutes, with which you had nothing to occupy yourself with other than your own mind.

It was another 20 before the doors slid open, the familiar figure of a face you'd come to know as Anri Teieri leading an even more striking form. "In here, Kunigami-san. You have as much time as you need."

You were on your feet in an instant, it was actually him. God, he reeked of sweat and spice. That damned door clicked behind the JFU associate, amber eyes staring stone cold down at you.

"Rensuke, congratulations on your victory." The words spilled from your lips. Yes, you knew him well, that look in his eyes, it was not forlorn in the way you knew he felt after a loss.

"Why are you here."

His words were flat, but it was all a facade. No one in this word knew Rensuke Kunigami quite like you, and no one ever would. "I'm so incredibly proud of you, my hero."

And just this once, for the first time since he walked into that Wild Card door, those broad shoulders of his relaxed.

"Yeah... Yeah, I know you are, sunshine."

© okkotsuus 24 – do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate any of my works to any other platforms.

[starstruckzine]

Fifteen minutes remained until showtime. Kaminari paced back and forth across the band's dressing room while Jiro hung up on Shindo's voicemail message for the tenth time.

"When I get my hands on him..." She muttered under her breath.

All of the biggest names in Japan's music industry considered Murasaki no Kyū as the hot spot in Musutafu. More than one band found fame while performing there, including legendary rock group The Vigilantes. Her parents had called in quite a few favors to get them this gig. It'd be a disaster if Shake Down couldn't perform. They'd be better off bombing than leaving the venue without an opening act at the last second.

"He's becoming more unreliable." Tokoyami crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "He was late for our last practice, and he missed the one before that."

The silence that followed was palpable as the trio looked at one another and tried to figure out what to do. Seconds gave way to minutes as the clock counted down to certain humiliation and the potential ruin of their future music career.

"We're down to five minutes." Jiro tugged on one of her ear jacks as she stood. She hoped her parents wouldn't be disappointed after all the effort they expended to get Shake Down this chance, and she hoped her friends wouldn't give up on the dream they shared. They'd come too far to let one hurdle trip them up, even if blowing their chance at Murasaki no Kyū was a hell of a stumble for any group in their position. "I'll let Mr. Nakaoji know we won't be able to perform tonight."

The door to the dressing room slammed open, and Bakugou barreled through it. He scanned the room, eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. "The loser didn't show up, did he?" His smirk indicated he already knew the answer.

"I was just going to let Mr. Nakaoji know-"

"Hey. Kirishima!" Kaminari interrupted as the familiar redhead strolled through the door behind Bakugou. "I thought you had practice tonight with that new band that asked you to fill in for them."

"I'd never miss out on a chance to support you guys on your big night. That'd be totally unmanly." Kirishima scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin."Besides, the band broke up this morning. I'm out of a job again."

"Kiri is gonna be our drummer tonight."

"No worries, guys. I know all your songs."

Tokoyami and the others shared a confused look. "Then what are you-?"

"I'm replacing that lousy extra on vocals from now on, and he better not show his face again. Let's go."

Bakugou didn't wait to see if anyone wanted to argue about his announcement, confident in the decision he'd been contemplating for weeks. As soon as he noticed how unreliable Shindo was getting, Bakugou began to devise a contingency plan. They'd put too much work into their music to let one idiot ruin everything. Kirishima already knew how to play Shake Down's songs, and Bakugou had spent countless hours honing his vocal skills in addition to providing backup on a few of their current tracks.

Kirishima grinned, whipped the drumsticks out of his back pocket - he never went anywhere without them - and followed Bakugou towards the stage. There was only a moment of stunned silence before the other three band members followed suit.

🌟🌟🌟

Tension hung in the air as the band members waited for the curtain to rise. Jiro had covered for Shindo during sound check, but sound check wasn't the same kind of pressure as actually performing at the most exclusive club in the city.

Bakugou fidgeted with the microphone while Jiro confirmed the new set list with Tokoyami because Bakugou changed it as they were walking down the hall. Kaminari patted down his pockets in search of his spare guitar picks because the one he had earlier somehow vanished between the dressing room and the stage, and Kirishima adjusted the height of the cymbols on Bakugou's signature black and orange "Explosion 2.0" drum kit. (The first one was accidentally damaged in the midst of a disagreement that happened during practice one day.)

The new lineup felt foreign but not uncomfortable. There were a few times when Shindo had been late for practice or didn't show up at all, and Bakugou filled in on vocals. Once or twice, he introduced a new song. None of them realized it was his way of preparing for what he saw as inevitable, but that night, they were all grateful for his suspicions.

"Give it up for tonight's opening act! Shake Down!"

The curtain began to rise as the stage manager introduced the band. Applause erupted. Familiar faces lined the edge of the stage. Friends. Family. Fans. Shake Down had amassed a decent following around the city during their years of playing birthday parties and school events, and many of their supporters made it a point to show for the occasion.

There was a moment of hesitation, a slight lull in the cheering as members of the crowd shared looks of confusion. Bakugou smirked. Their reaction didn't faze him. He wouldn't let it. He knew this was the best chance for their success.

"We! Will! Not! Fall!"

Bakugou belted out the opening lyrics to "No Surrender", the band's most popular song. They usually played it for the finale, but tonight, he intended to make a pledge with those four words.

The music swelled. In an instant, a wave of sound filled the club and whipped the crowd into frenzy. People shouted. They cheered. Those in the back of the room rushed for spots closer to the stage.

And, unknown to the band members, one particular individual was sending out a text that would change their lives forever.

*They're definitely worth following. I'll swing by the office tomorrow to discuss.*

[pursued-by-the-squid]

i. exorcizing demons

pairing: eventual gi-hun x gn!reader x in-ho

word count: 3.7k

ao3 | masterlist

December 26, 2021

Would you help that man? A shitfaced man abandoned to the sidewalk, the trash of the world in the eyes of people like Oh Il-nam. Do you still trust in humanity? In the people stepping over the bodies in the street, in the kind souls who go running for help. Do you still have hope? After everything he’s seen, everything he’s done.

Gi-hun squeezes his eyes shut.

Do you still have hope?

His jaw clenches against the cold and the memories and the bitter taste of the truth. Hope is… hard to come by these days.

But do you still have it?

He pushes the hair out of his eyes as the wind comes down over his head. A bit of snow goes sprinkling over his face and hand, some of it even catches in his eyelashes. He remembers the first time Ga-yeong saw snow and her chubby little face split wide open with a grin, how her eyes sparkled with the reflection of the city lights, how he’d looked at her in that moment and knew straight away that he would do anything for her. Anything in the world.

Then he remembers Sae-byok’s body, Sang-woo’s face. Ali’s voice.

Look at that. The quiet woop of the police siren. The panicked gestures of a good Samaritan. There’s someone who cares.

Hope.

Hope is…

Mrrow!

Gi-hun’s feet come to a stop, crunching softly on freshly fallen snow. He remembers the sting of ddakji and the elation of 100 thousand won in his pocket. He remembers the little striped thing hunting for scraps in the dumpster outside his house. In fact, when he turns toward the sound, curious, chasing a memory that feels too foreign to be his anymore, he almost swears he’s watching himself.

The shape of a person on their knees cuts through the snow, hand outstretched to scratch at the underside of a calico kitten’s chin, their head tilted in just the right way so their face is shadowed. The kitten meows again, playfully butting its head into the open palm of the hand still trying to feed it.

He smiles. For the first time in a year, Gi-hun finds it in himself to smile.

Do you still have hope?

“Hey there, little one.” The voice coming out of the shadows is accented and soft, trembling. A foreigner, he thinks, though he has no way of knowing from exactly where. It intrigues him, though. Maybe it reminds him of Ali. “You have to stay warm tonight, okay? It’s cold out here.”

The head tips back, out of the shadows and into a sliver of light from the nearby streetlamp, and suddenly the unknown they becomes a vaguely familiar you. No longer a stranger, but a person just like him. A bit of hair that peeks out from beneath a beanie, glassy eyes that look a bit like stars when the light hits them just right. A mouth that trembles as much as your voice does. He realizes with a start that you’re crying.

Do you still have hope?

He remembers the man on the street, perhaps only moments away from freezing to death but saved, ultimately, because someone had the courage to do what was right. He remembers Ga-yeong and all the ways he’s let her down since the moment she was born. He remembers Ali and Sang-woo and Sae-byok, and the little striped cat outside his mother’s house.

He lifts his chin in your direction. “Are you alright?”

October 2022

He had asked for one very simple thing – think of it as a dream. Let the past settle into your bones, let the horrors fade away with the morning sun, and carry on living. You were the winning horse, Seong Gi-hun. You could have galloped far away from here. Instead, he’s chosen to stay and fight. In-ho wants to understand why.

He knows why. He knows that 456 is a broken man, a selfish cheapskate who got pushed too far. He knows that 456 is as stubborn as he is troublesome. He knows everything he needs to know about him, but what In-ho doesn’t have is understanding. Gi-hun had been so desperate to leave the Games, and yet they’ve now become the only thing he lives for.

If they have anything in common – and that’s a remarkably strong assumption to make – he thinks it might be this.

The flash of light on his cufflinks catches in his reflection as In-ho takes a long sip of whiskey. He takes an equally long breath, his chest tight with irritation and exhaustion, and for the first time in a long time, he finds himself desperate for a cigarette. The inclination feels foreign to him now, even though he can still remember the itch in his lungs, the addictive sting of nicotine that now pulls at him for some inexplicable reason. He hasn’t smoked in years, not since…

Casting his drink aside, In-ho storms out of the bathroom and into his office. He pulls up every file he has available – the covert photos of Gi-hun’s hired loan sharks, the businesses he frequents, the people seen coming and going from that shithole he’s boarded himself inside. 45.6 billion won and this is what he chooses to do with it? It would be laughable if it weren’t also impacting the Games. He’s had to reroute several recruiters just to escape all those prying eyes and his player count is down because of it.

Bastard.

He doesn’t feel particularly inclined to killing Seong Gi-hun, not this close to the next Games. The VIPs are restless and demanding, the player count is worryingly low, and there are still loose threads left hanging after Oh Il-nam’s death. Piling on a perfect execution in addition to the rest of his obligations simply isn’t feasible, and he suspects that contacting 456 and threatening him will only double his efforts. It’s not worth the risk.

In-ho scans through every file, note, and photograph until his head throbs and his eyes are tired. He needs a different approach, something 456 won’t be expecting. His daughter is in America, too far away and too young to trifle with. His parents are dead. He doesn’t keep in contact with any of his friends from before the Games. There is, disappointingly, no exposed nerve-ending for him to tug at.

At least, there isn’t until there’s you.

The pictures had been written off as unimportant, an acquaintance made in passing but unconnected to any of Gi-hun’s schemes. After a year of constantly keeping 456 in his periphery, however, In-ho has developed something of a sixth sense when it comes to his weaknesses. The softening of the eyes, the lingering gaze, and it seems to have started the night that Oh Il-nam died.

The shots from the CCTV are timestamped to shortly after midnight. You’re petting a street cat, crying. 456 stops. He talks to you. He leaves. The exchange ends there, but you don’t. You crop up again on December 27th. 456 meets you on a college campus, his hair obnoxiously red and his beard gone. He offers you a small shoulder bag. And again, several weeks later. The red hair is gone by that point, and In-ho recognizes the timestamp with a jolt. Just days after refusing to board the plane to America. Another meeting, this one much more discreet, several months after that.

Now that he knows what to look for, In-ho finds traces of you everywhere he looks. What had once been presumed carelessness or laziness on the part of the hired loan sharks is revealed to be an obligation to keep watch over your apartment. The rare diversions from 456’s usual schedule that he had thought to be signs of a clandestine meeting are suddenly understood to be arrangements with you, located as far away from Gi-hun’s central hub and In-ho’s prying eyes as is possible and perfectly timed with the large withdrawals from Gi-hun’s bank account.

He’s been so incredibly careful, but not even 45.6 billion won can hide the truth – you are the very weakness he’s been searching for. How intriguing.

“You smell like cigarettes.”

It’s a little mean of you, perhaps, to poke at him like this after everything he’s done, but you hate feeling like a greedy stranger taking advantage of his kindness. Just once, you want to pretend that this arrangement is somewhat normal, that you have friends, that you sit down and have dinner with people. That you’re not absolutely insane for agreeing to all of this in the first place. So you poke, hoping that one day he’ll crack and give you something you can craft a friendship out of.

Gi-hun glances up at you from beneath his lashes. He has that look, the one that begs you not to push him farther than he can stand, but it’s more resigned than usual. He says nothing.

“It wouldn’t kill you to have a conversation with me, you know.”

“No,” he agrees after a moment, his head inclined to one side, “but it might kill you.”

Not for the first time, you wonder if you’ve gotten yourself tangled up in some kind of drug or human trafficking ring. Who else would have the ability to pay off your debts while also acting the way he does? But Gi-hun’s never really struck you as the type, despite all the mystery. It isn’t anger or hatred or anything evil that you see in his eyes. It’s sorrow.

The money is pushed across the table in its usual manner – a dark and unassuming little shoulder bag. “Classes are finishing soon, aren’t they.” It isn’t a question, exactly, but at least it’s something.

“Soon enough, yeah. Finals are coming up.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Will you be going back when you’ve finished? Back home?”

Even just thinking about it has your gut twisting in on itself. You have so many conflicting feelings about staying and even more about leaving. Staying wouldn’t even be an option if it weren’t for Gi-hun, yet now that the opportunity has presented itself… is it selfish of you to want to stay?

“Honestly, I… I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

“I could…” The shadows that so often linger on his face lift for a few seconds, revealing something softer and lighter than you’ve ever seen from him. You might almost call it hope. “Whatever you decide, [___], I can still help you. I would like to help you.”

His words ring in your ear all the way home. He’s already helped you so much. He’s given you millions of won by now and he still wants to give you more? Gi-hun doesn’t even know you, doesn’t even want to know you, and yet he seems content enough to throw his money at you. You don’t even know where he gets it from. You don’t even know why he picked you out of the entire population of Seoul. What makes you any better, any different from the rest of the students struggling to make ends meet? What makes you worthy of his aid?

You lie in bed the entire night, staring at the ceiling and wondering to the point of hysteria. I would like to help you, he’d said and a part of you had desperately wanted to leap at the opportunity. You could move to a nicer neighborhood. You could buy some new shoes, ones better suited for the coming winter weather. And then your mind starts to wander even further. Charming knick-knacks you’ve seen in passing, that new album from your favorite K-group, a new potted plant to replace the one you accidentally killed – things you don’t truly need, but want all the same. Non-necessities.

You’re selfish, you ultimately decide. Greedy. How in the world do you manage the audacity to even consider spending Gi-hun’s money on anything other than school fees? Saving a few hundred won to splurge on decent meals and new highlighters is one thing, but choosing to remain in Korea because staying means receiving money without labor is another.

The following day passes in a blur. Lectures go right over your head. Your food tastes bland and unappealing. The bundle of cash tucked into your backpack burns a hole through your spine. Ought to be ashamed of yourself. You watch the numbers in your savings account steadily tick up, but instead of lifting a bit of weight off your shoulders, all it does is settle in your stomach like a rock.

A shadow passes over you at the bus stop, another rider settling onto the bench. Their briefcase is placed in the space between you, followed by a gentle click. You turn your head so you’re gazing out at the street and sigh. You have several assignments to work on tonight, a mostly bare cupboard, and no motivation to take care of either problem. Defeat begins to creep into your bones. Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. Order takeout and watch something mindless to distract yourself. There’s a decent ramyeon place just down the–

“Excuse me.”

You start, blinking back into the present with a frown. The shadow sitting beside you is smiling. She looks like a businesswoman, very pristine in her charcoal gray blazer, pencil skirt, and pitch-black heels.

“Would you like to play a game?”

If that’s a pick-up line, it’s the weirdest one you’ve ever heard.

“I’m… sorry?”

The woman gestures to her briefcase, now propped open and twisted around so it’s facing you. There are two folded squares on one side, one red and one blue, and an obscene stack of bundled won on the other. Your mouth drops open. That’s… that’s…

“Ddakji. Do you play?”

“I…” You can’t look away from the money, all that money. What is she doing carrying that much money around, and especially as a woman? That’s hardly safe, let alone smart. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, “I don’t understand.”

The woman picks up the two squares before snapping the briefcase shut. The sound is enough to jolt you out of your trance. She holds the squares before you, one in each hand, and she explains the game, slow and steady like a teacher guiding a particularly slow student. You make a considerable effort not to be offended.

“Flip my square over and I’ll give you 100 thousand won. If I flip your square over, you give me 100 thousand won.”

“… Why?”

The woman shrugs lightly, unbothered by the query and, apparently, equally unbothered to properly reply. “If you’re not interested in playing–”

The speed with which you reach out to stop her genuinely surprises you. “No. No, I didn’t say that.”

100 thousand won isn’t exactly petty cash. If you win even a single round, you could buy yourself dinner without dipping into Gi-hun’s money, and after spending the past 24 hours agonizing over your own selfishness and greed, the thought of leaving his money untouched is a balm on your wounded soul.

“Excellent,” she says, her smile cracking even farther across her face. You pretend not to notice the unnerving emptiness in her eyes. “Which color would you like?”

If you’re ever in trouble, call me. I will help you.

You’ve never taken him up on the offer, never needed to before. It’s not so much that you’re in trouble as it is that you’re deeply unsettled. Your encounter with the strange businesswoman had left you with 300 thousand won, a sore cheek, the promise of more money, and a very curious business card. It’s almost too good to be true. It’s almost too similar to the proposition you were given nearly a year ago by a much kinder man, with dark, sad eyes and an affinity for street cats.

“Yes?”

It had taken him nearly six rings to answer. Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you. Maybe you’re annoying him.

Your throat closes up and you’re suddenly choking around your words. “N-Nothing. No, sorry. I’m sorry. Never mind–”

“[___],” he implores, his voice more stern than it was a second ago. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly. I just…” You’re shaking your head, peering down at the business card in your hands, pressing the pointed corners into the whorls of your fingerprints and wishing that life was so much simpler than it’s turned out to be. “Something happened today and I don’t…”

You don’t what? You don’t know what to do? You don’t know if you should tell him about the 300 thousand won, or you don’t know if you want to try for more? Or maybe you don’t know if you can trust him anymore.

“Where are you?” he mutters, and his voice is like gravel. “Are you hurt?”

“No! No, I’m fine, it’s not that. It’s… I met this woman and she gave me a card, and I don’t… I’m…” It doesn’t hit you until you feel the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes that you’re crying. “I’m scared.”

Somewhere on the other end of the line, you hear the clattering of objects and the huff of Gi-hun’s breath. “Stay where you are, I’ll come get you.”

Panic sparks at the base of your neck, hot and electric, and you’re shaking your head again, eyes wide and terrified. “No, don’t. It’s okay, I’m okay.”

But he doesn’t listen. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. “Stay on the phone until I get there. Tell me what happened.”

“It’s nothing,” you protest.

“Tell me.”

Your eyes dart around your surroundings. The bus has already deposited you at your home stop. It’s late, the sun is starting to set and your stomach is gurgling angrily, and you want nothing more than to barricade yourself inside your apartment and block out the rest of the world, to pretend that everything is normal and fine.

But everything is not normal. It hasn’t been normal since Gi-hun met you on the street and promised to pay every single one of your expenses. It hasn’t been normal all the times he met you in the quiet, unassuming corners of a public park, or at the bus stop, or just outside class. It hasn’t been normal at all and you’re a fool for wanting to believe otherwise.

“Who are you?”

Gi-hun grunts in confusion. “What?”

“Are you… Is this some kind of gang thing? Or like, a pyramid scheme?”

The phone is quiet for a long time, long enough that you almost think he hasn’t heard you. Or doesn’t care enough to answer. You pull the phone away from your ear just to ensure that he hasn’t dropped the call, but no. He’s still there.

“Gi-hun-ssi?”

A massive gust of wind comes screaming down the street, funneled in by the skyscrapers, and you tell yourself it’s for that reason that a chill runs down your spine. Not the embers burning in his throat when he utters, “Was it him? The man in the suit?”

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth when you reply. “No, it was a woman. She approached me at the bus stop and asked me to play this game with her.”

“The game. Was it ddakji?”

“Yeah, I…” Is the man psychic? “How did you know?”

Gi-hun’s end falls silent again, punctuated only by low, incoherent mutterings, his labored breaths, and the distant revving of an engine. Is he driving? You weren’t even aware he knew how, he only ever meets you on foot. You call his name once, twice, again and again, but he refuses to dignify you with an answer. All the while, your anxiety is mounting.

He knows about the ddakji. How could he know about the ddakji unless he were somehow connected to it? And both he and the strange woman were loaded with cash, inexplicably so. They both cornered you in the street, friendly enough in Gi-hun’s case, but it’s suspicious all the same.

You breathe heavily into the receiver. You’re trying to find the right words to all the right questions, trying to find sense in a nonsensical world, and you’re failing miserably.

“I have to go.”

Gi-hun’s breath audibly catches, then you hear him fumbling for the phone. “No, [___], don’t hang up. I’m almost there.”

You’re afraid to ask. You don’t want to know, you don’t want to hear an answer that you know you won’t like, but you have to ask. You have to. “Almost where?”

“Stay. Put,” he tells you, and you can picture the look on his face – the gritted teeth and furrowed brows. It’s enough to finally knock some sense into your thick skull.

You drop the call and go to shove your phone in your pocket when you hear the distant sound of a car horn blaring. It’s a few blocks away, but moving quickly, as if it were hurtling down the street abnormally fast. It’s probably nothing. You’re paranoid. You’re hungry and you’re not thinking straight, and it’s been a long day, and you just need a few minutes to relax and compose yourself, and everything is so, so much. You wish it would stop.

Instinct has you darting inside your apartment building, rushing as fast as you can for the elevator. Your fist slams into the button for your level and after a second, you push some of the buttons above your floor as well. Just in case. And then once you’re inside your room, you’ll bolt the door. Just in case. And you’ll draw the shades. Throw away that damn card. You’ll forget all about Gi-hun and the money and the ddakji woman (his cohort? accomplice?), and you’ll go back to your home country when your classes are done, and Korea will be little more than a distant memory. Just in case.

The elevator dings as it pulls up to your floor.

Just in case.

It’s for the best regardless. Normal people, smart people don’t go around accepting money from strangers.

The door slams shut behind you. You triple check the lock. You ignore the incoming texts from Gi-hun asking why you won’t pick up the phone, why you’re running, if you’re okay, and focus instead on darkening the apartment so it looks like no one is home. Just in case.

[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.”

---

Want to read from the beginning? Click Here

If you wanna join the taglist for this story, just let me know! Taglist: @theusotwinzcom @nbanenefrmdao @queeny23

[the-blossica-fan]

One deep rooted idea I have is the fact that Mesmer, in her Monologue, hates being touched

So I thought. Wouldn't it be something if she asked Vertin to hold her hands throughout it all, no matter how much she shook

She wants to love. But before she can truly love, she needs to trust.

Vertin is a foolish Martyr. And yet, one that Mesmer cares for

Laugh, cry, scream; those are what she was taught not to do.

But Vertin was always both a rule breaker, and a bad influence...

I'll flesh out on this one more than the others so you can go to sleep thinking about them.

Vertin has always been the kind to touch people to show she cares, since she's not as expressive as other people, she shows it through physical intimacy.

It helps those that are in need of touch to feel something, she's really considerate of their feelings after all.

Mesmer Jr is someone who does want touch but not from anyone, you know what I mean? Touch adverse, but still starved.

I haven't played her voice lines (I will after this) but I can see how she'd warm up to Vertin's touch after a while.

It'd be a harsh route for Mesmer Jr to accept touch without feeling weird (/neg) about it, but there will be a moment where she actually asks Vertin to hold her hand.

It will not be explicit, she will not say it out loud, but she will hold onto Vertin's sleeve, slowly waiting for Vertin to hold her hand, to interlace their fingers. And she won't say anything during nor after, she's completely silent, but Vertin knows why.

And it's the first step. Soon enough, they're holding hands all the time. Mesmer holds onto Vertin's hand for lifetime, as if it's the only thing bringing her some warmth (and maybe it is), as if it is the only thing she needs.

Then she asks for a hug, verbally. She wants to be held, for she has never had comfort before, and she doesn't want it from anyone.

It's a common occurrence when they're alone. Vertin hugs Mesmer Jr, she lets her know she's always there for Mesmer Jr even if she's not the best at expressions. And Mesmer knows, those moments are the best for her. To heal her old wounds and cure her damaged mind, to recharge her battery after a whole day of exhaustion.

Vertin is a bad influence for Mesmer, always have been, Mesmer knows. She's always getting into trouble, and Mesmer can't always take that. It's been rooted into her mind that she hates arcanists.

As I said before, it's a hard route for Mesmer, and she's willing to try. Willing to give her all to Vertin, willing to believe Vertin would never break her trust because she's been by her side for so long.

Even with the troubles they've been through, Mesmer tries to put those aside. Because she wants someone to touch, someone to hold her, someone to embrace and someone she can rely on.

If that's Vertin who her heart chooses, she will put her trust in her, because she knows Vertin would never let her down.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ok so i’m technically done w the fic but :’3 i feel very… unsure…. abt it…….. so i think i might get some sleep for now and look over it properly tmrw before posting……

next week i’ll post a fic early though!!!!! mindless sugu hurt/comfort time >:3

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <333

[arosebyan0thername]

Yall im down so so bad I haven't been down this bad in a long time

[fandom-blackhole]

.

[prudencepaccard]

didn't get cast in ensemble. they did cast a girl at callbacks I literally taught the harmony to though. fucked up

[whumpy-wyrms]

hey guys

[arolesbianism]

There's a well 🎉

[asterdeer]

finished the suffering game graphic novel. reviewing my options now. think i’m gonna go with uhhhhhhhh Formless Overwhelming Melancholic Loneliness