#as of writing these r sold out :(

[stimstar-of-stimclan]

sonic enamel pins by SharpeDesignStore on etsy

source | source | source source

[raii-bread]

hhhhwhwhwhwwhhhhh aaaaaaaaawhwhwgggggggg

[xmoriartea]

SVSSS!Sibling Transmigration AU

Based so very loosely on this glorious art by @nibbelraz

Airplane transmigrates into the youngest infant son of the Shang family (and God damn he deserves better than this System he is their god!! Daddy Airplane?? Heard of him?? These people should not be changing his damn diaper hello??)

Shang Qinghua is already a young disciple when he visits home and meets his little brother for the first time and does no one else see there is something... off about this kid?

He makes regular trips home afterwards, eventually using An Ding logistics to find reasons to be near his hometown more frequently (and really does no one else see this kid is weird?)

Bby!Airplane is just too smart. SQH is convinced he saw the kid make eye contact with him once when he caught him stealing a dumpling behind their mother's back and it was like looking into the eyes of a demon who'd gut him if he snitched and not a human toddler

It doesn't get better as Airplane gets older and SQH hears him muttering about 1. things he shouldn't know at all regarding the sect when he thinks SQH isn't listening and 2. absolute nonsense (what System has done you so wrong didi?? you are four??)

Before Airplane is old enough to reasonably join the sect, SQH brings him back to the mountain anyway. He is fairly certain his brother is a seer and if that's the case, he's keeping the little welp close at hand

Airplane infinitely regrets how much bullshit he made An Ding deal with to ""hand wave lazy writing"" (shut up peerless cucumber!! he was writing porn not project management!!) but even just watching SQH run himself ragged over the peak has bby him exhausted (no wonder he ratted y'all out to the king yeesh)

He spends his early years as a disciple just following SQH and sometimes nudging his gege into record shattering discoveries because SQH will pat his head when he realizes and take him down the mountain for noodles afterwards (gg easy)

Airplane is a proper disciple in his own right in his teens when his notes and his story get jumbled in a way that has him tripping into one of his shixiongs when he hears the rumors - Head Disciple SJ returned to the mountain with a little brother (record screech glass shattering huh???)

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan transmigrated into Shen Jiu's unnamed younger half-brother After finding stability at the sect, Shen Jiu looks into his birth mother, knowing she sold him off when he was a child What he finds in Airplane's unwritten notes is a Fantine-Cosette backstory where his mother, a courtesan, gave him away to a good family after he was born. She sent them regular payments to ensure his care, but only found out when she was pregnant with SY that they had sold SJ off and were pocketing her money Unable to find SJ and unwilling to risk SY, she and the other courtesans raised SY within the brothel SY transmigrates into the body of a child at his sick mother's bedside with a twisted sense of deja vu having just vacated his own deathbed He doesn't know where he is, but if the orphan protagonist can make it to the sect, so can he right? (Transmigrator Halo? System? System why are you laughing??) He's barely into his second teens when SJ finds him. It takes no time at all after learning the truth for SJ to demand SY's guardianship and whisk him back to Qing Ding (See System? He DOES have a Transmigrator Halo, even if it is attached to the scum villain) SY is honestly shocked by how concerned(?) SJ is when packing his meager possessions. (No Jiu-ge (ew) no one has ever harmed him or touched him wtf would make you think they had?? He's baby??) It takes some time for glaciers to melt and for SJ to let SY in, but SY was raised around kind jiejies who taught him to be better than their worst clients and SJ feels safe around this little brat in a way he can't explain (SJ has had SY for five minutes but if anything happens to him SJ is taking out the entire mountain and then himself) YQY has NO idea how to react when SJ first returns with his brother, but he doesn't hesitate to smooth the way for SY's discipleship and watches from afar as SJ begins to finally let someone in, even if it's not him

SQH keeps telling Airplane he needs to work on his muttering to himself, that it's going to get him in trouble (bro you don't even know) but for once it's in his favor because SY overhears him just enough while YQY is sorting his shit out on arrival and suddenly they're just two spidermen pointing at each other on the peak

Cue the shenanigans of two hometown boys who have no bearing on the plot at all and are just along for the ride while their siblings handle the peaks. Anytime Qing Ding and An Ding need to work together on missions, these two volunteer and confuse the hell out of their martial siblings every step of the way

SJ does not trust the little logistics rat anywhere near his didi and glowers like an alley cat anytime Airplane is around (SQH is right, ofc. His brother IS weird and SJ does not trust it)

SQH meanwhile takes note of his weird didi's sudden and first friendship with SY and immediately starts keeping tabs on this kid because clearly Airplane's seerhood has steered him to SY for a reason, must keep note

The first time LQG makes any sort of fuss about SJ going to a brothel, SY forgets everything he's learned at the sect as Little Brother Mode™ activates to defend not only SJ but his jiejies too. (Fists are thrown. Hair is pulled. He might have bitten his shixiong, he can't say. He sort of blacked out for a minute there) Needless to say there isn't a second time and LQG has an hour long argument with his shizun about trying to poach SY for Bai Zhan peak while nursing a black eye (Airplane just side eying the GREMLIN that transmigrated here like bro wtf)

Before LBH even steps foot on the mountain, both their Systems ping about the incoming protagonist and it's not that they, you know, forgot about the story but they were distracted. Between finding each other and actually weirdly coming to care for these NPCs they... lost track of time

But the System pings and LBH enters the scene and SY refuses to let Airplane's work repeat itself (we're making your notes canon bro stfu and follow my lead. (what lead??? what plan??) I'm working on it!!)

It's a 50/50 crap shoot if SYs favoritism of bby!Binghe endears him to SJ or spikes up the resentment, but SY refuses to let harm come to LBH or for SJ to become the scum villain (someone is yelling, it might be SJ, it might be SY, it might be Binghe who doesn't want Shizun and Shixiong fighting over him)

On the other side of the plot, SQH is still a little snitch, even with his didi's visions guiding him to unprecedented success - but it's more than betraying the sect, more than wanting power and recognition. Seers are insanely powerful, highly sought after. Bringing Airplane to the sect protected him for awhile but SQH can't let him become a target. So when the OG meets MBJ, all his calculations come to a single unfortunate answer: throw your lot in with the biggest fish to protect Airplane (no one else can understand how weird his brother is because if they do his brother will end up dead)

Flash forward to when Airplane is squinting at his brother wearing fur collars year round, always running a little bit chilly for unknown reasons but refusing to see MQF about it. Airplane insists on SQH letting him check his meridians if he won't see MQF and SQH relents, puts his wrist in Airplane's hand, and squawks like a goddamn chicken when Airplane yanks his arm and tugs down his collar to reveal the mark of MBJ on his collarbone and SQH is once again met with that dead eyed 'bro do not fuck with me' stare

SQH does not question how Airplane knows, he just insists on Airplane staying far far away from MBJ (he might work for the demon, but he certainly does not trust him)

Of course Airplane defies all reason and knows the exact secret rendezvous point SQH uses (he did not suffer puberty twice to be denied seeing his most precious creation in the flesh, gege) and is spotted spying on the spy almost instantly by MBJ who is just holding him by his scruff and looking between a wide eyed Airplane and a barely-restrained-panicked peak lord like 'why oh why are there two of them'

Cue a full stand off between a demon and peak lord, ice knives at SQH's throat, a blade hovering at MBJ's heart, and Airplane just held like a kitten between them like fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck that SOMEHOW ends with MBJ rationalizing 'ah this weird mouse is important to my viper of a spy - if I want to keep the viper loyal, I will protect this mouse'

Which throws the Sheng brothers into a mess that neither of them know how to deal with. SQH thinks he needs to continue to be excessively useful to keep Airplane safe. Airplane can't let MBJ know he's his brother's best source or the demon might cut out the middle man. (Meanwhile somewhere MBJ just out here planning to court this weird little mouse to tie SQH's loyalties to him)

Whatever circumstances causes the Abyss plotline to trigger, SY 500% throws himself in after Binghe leaving SJ partially feral because his didi is in danger, Airplane CONCERNED, and SQH just casually like 'oh that's why my brother was interested in him, interesting' not at all realizing no, SY is likely just about to become his boss(-brother-in-law)'s boss's consort - whoops! whoops! whoops!

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 7

paige x azzi

warning: blood, violence

word count; 7.1k

a/n: i was so excited to write this that i damn near stayed up overnight. most of my anons are freaking out about this chapter so i’m just gonna say be patient with both of them and i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼 leave comments/reactions/ideas if you’d like to :)

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The first round of the playoffs brought a sold-out crowd to Crypto Arena, the air inside filled with the kind of tension only a California showdown could promise. The Sparks versus the Valkyries. Some were college teammates turned rivals, friends turned into competitors once they stepped between the lines. It was the matchup everyone in California wanted and nobody expected it to happen this early.

Outside, the late September sun was cruel, even for California. Heat shimmered off the court where the bright lights were doing nothing to ease the warmth that clung to the walls inside the arena, where the cooling systems were working overtime. Still, nothing could cut through the crazy energy inside. Fans were packed shoulder to shoulder in the sold out crowd, the bass from the Sparks warmup playlist lighting up their chests.

On the court, the Sparks were already loose and were just trying to pass time until the game started.

Rickea was spinning a ball on her finger while nudging Cam to get her to look, who was busy trying to play soccer with Rae who to no avail couldn’t stop soaring the ball everywhere but where Cam was standing. Azzi dribbled lazily at the top of the key with half-focus, her eyes drifting toward the tunnel more than the rim even though she was trying to play it cool.

Contrary to what she was trying to do, Azzi in fact didn’t play it cool when Paige walked in. Resting above clean white Air Force 1s were some baggy grey sweatpants that hung low on her hips, sagging perfectly enough to show the waistband of her cotton Nike boxers. She had on a black tank top that clung to her torso slightly from the heat in all the right places, her arms looked defined under the arena lights like she’d just finished a workout before coming to the game. A silver chain rested against her collarbone, and the diamonds danced with each step she took, and what had become her signature huggie earrings topped off the look. There was sweat that beaded lightly at her temple but refused to fall, like even the heat had no choice but to compliment her.

Azzi lost her handle on the ball she had been dribbling and it rolled away.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to strangle Paige for walking in like that, completely nonchalant, like she didn’t know what she was doing. Or drag her into the locker room to make the faint hickey still lingering under her jaw worse and maybe add a few more for all the lingering eyes in the arena to see.

Instead, Azzi shook her head as she licked her bottom lip, walking over to grab her water bottle, muttering under her breath about how ‘unbelievable’ Paige was.

Paige sank into her courtside seat with one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee as she glanced down to respond to something on her phone. After a few taps she slid it into the pocket of her sweats and finally looked up.

Her gaze swept over the court before pausing on her technically little sister who was, mid-laugh, seemingly at something Rae did who was chasing a basketball. Paige gave Cam a small nod, in acknowledgment when she looked over but her eyes didn’t stay on her for long.

They drifted until they found Azzi already watching her.

Paige’s jaw ticked and her tongue subtly peeked out to wet her bottom lip as she dragged her eyes over Azzi with a sluggishness that could only be labeled as intentional. Her low blue eyes moved from Azzi’s shoes to her legs, her hips, her jersey, then lingered right at her plump lips. Heat crept up Azzi’s neck, her eyebrows creasing together as she tried to figure out why Paige looked like she was moving through molasses as she stared at her. Then Azzi noticed her red-rimmed blue eyes that were just glassy enough to confirm what she suspected.

“Oh, she’s high as hell,” Rae said with a grin, following Azzi’s gaze.

Rickea looked over to see what they were talking about before saying, “Damn why she eyeing you like that? Y'all need to run back whatever yall did at that cabin clearly.”

Azzi rolled her eyes as she dribbled, her cheeks warming up but she blamed it on the heat in the arena. “Can y’all chill?”

“Nah bro look,” Rae continued, nudging Azzi a little. “She not even blinking. Probably don’t even know we’re talking about her. You must’ve put it on her.”

Before Azzi could respond, a basketball flew out of nowhere and hit Rae in the thigh. “Can you not?” Cam said completely, deadpan. “That’s literally disgusting.”

Rae laughed as she rubbed her leg, raising both hands like she was innocent. “Relax. We’re just admiring your sexy ass sister's inability to act normal around Azzi now.”

Azzi’s head snapped in Rae’s direction. “Okay, ‘sexy ass’ is a crazy choice of words.”

Rae grinned. “Ohhh, my bad. Forgot she’s your girl now.”

Azzi then followed what Cam did and threw her ball at Rae’s leg before saying, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Rae said, “Ow,” and threw her hands up again. “I’m being assaulted. This can be labeled as workplace bullying, you know.”

Rickea snorted. “You’ll survive with a lil thigh bruise.”

“I’m just saying,” Rae continued on, undeterred, “if my girl ever looked at me the way Paige is looking at you, I’d be skipping warmups for a lil pregame boost of confidence.”

“Facts,” Rickea agreed, spinning the ball in her hand before bunting it lazily to Cam. “You see how slow she was licking her lips? That was, like, 'let me remember exactly what you taste like' energy. James would’ve had my legs wide open.”

Azzi’s mouth dropped. “Alright can we not? Let’s move on.”

Cam shook her head, already regretting this entire conversation. “Thank you Azzi. Can we not talk about my sister’s mouth? Or, like, anything else related to…that ever again.”

“Sorry,” Rickea said with zero sincerity. “Lil Paigey came in here looking like a thirst trap I had to troll.”

Azzi rolled her eyes and her cheeks still felt warm.

A whistle blew from the scorer’s table just as the buzzer sounded indicating that the game was about to start.

The four of them jogged toward the bench for introductions, their laughter from the conversation still hanging positively in the air. As Azzi glanced back one more time toward the sideline, Paige caught her eye again.

She was still watching her and had the most subtle smirk on her face.

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling as she turned her focus to the huddle where her coach was giving them a few last game plan reminders.

The matchup had been circled on calendars the moment the bracket dropped. An exciting California showdown in the first round of the WNBA playoffs. Some were convinced it was rigged for views but it didn’t matter. Sparks vs. Valkyries. L.A. vs. San Francisco.

With a starting core as young and flexible as Azzi, Cam, Rickea, and Rae, the Sparks had become one of the most exciting teams to watch during the season and that energy carried into the postseason for most. What made them so dangerous wasn’t just their natural talent, it was the unpredictability of the team. On any given night, the offense could run through any one of them. No team had an answer for all four of them and if the chemistry clicked for all of them at once, it was a nightmare for defenses.

From the jump, it was clear tonight was Azzi’s night though. She was locked in, slipping through screens with perfect timing, reading the Valkyries defense like a book she’d read a thousand times. Her jumper tonight looked beautiful everytime she released the ball, clean with an almost mechanical precision. Every shot snapped in the net over and over again and all she did was smile as she back peddled to get on defense. Her teammates did all the yelling for her. By the third quarter, she was sitting on 32 points, shooting a ridiculous 7 for 8 from three. It wasn’t just her scoring that made her a nightmare for the Valkyries tonight.

It was the way she moved. She was light and controlled the tempo of the offense with her constant off ball movement, courtesy of her time at UConn and her mentor Steph. It was like the court was hers.

Paige watched her completely in awe the entire game. She didn’t move or react much from her courtside seat. She didn’t cheer too loud when everyone else in the arena stood to scream about an exciting play, didn’t react when the courtside camera panned over her because she refused to leave Azzi. She tracked every motion, every pivot, every flick of her wrist, even the way she swiftly whipped her thigh before a catch and shoot. It was like Paige was studying film and learning Azzi in real time. And there was something about watching Azzi completely in her element like this that made it hard for Paige to remember anything else.

The third quarter was winding down when the ball went out of bounds, in front of the courtside sideline.

Azzi jogged over to inbound it, stepping almost directly in front of where Paige was sitting with her legs spread.

When Azzi got in front of her Paige didn’t blink. She didn’t mean to do anything truthfully. Paige was always hyper aware of being out in public, controlling her reactions. But this time her eyes drifted. Starting at Azzi’s jaw, then down her neck, lingering on the sweat that was slowly sliding down it. Skimming over the slope of her shoulders and down the length of her back. Her gaze lingered entirely too long to seem anywhere near friendly as she tracked every muscle that flexed on Azzi’s arm, the way her shorts clung just right to her butt, her thighs. Paige didn’t even realize she was doing it but Azzi definitely felt it, at this point she felt like she had a sixth sense for when Paige’s eyes were on her.

It was like a slow burn crawling up her spine, the awareness of blue-eyes prickling her skin even as she faced the court. Her fingers tightened around the ball, her jaw ticking as she waited for them to fix the clock. It took everything in her not to turn around to see the way Paige was looking at her.

She took a steady breath, thanked God over and over in her head when she heard the ref’s whistle, and snapped the ball into play like nothing happened. Even if every cell in her body said otherwise.

With eight minutes left in the fourth the Sparks were up by twenty-two and both coaching staffs called it. The Sparks starters had done their job, controlled the game from start to finish, and they’d earned their rest until the next home game.

Azzi jogged off the court last, high-fiving her teammates, with sweat glistening down her temple as she settled on the bench. She took a long exhale after drinking her gatorade and whipping the sweat off of her face. She stretched her legs out and her chest was rising and falling from the tempo of the game as her natural adrenaline began to settle.

Across the court, Paige’s eyes followed her every step of her exit from the game. From the moment Azzi crossed half court and patted her teammates back who was checkin in for her to the way she peeled down her knee pads before sitting down.

When Azzi looked up, she caught her staring. Of course didn’t look away, she held her gaze. Her expression was unreadable like always but her eyes, her eyes said more than her expressions ever could. There was a softness there, it wasn’t a loud display but it was a look that tugged at something beneath Azzi’s ribs, something that made her heart feel like it skipped a few beats before remembering that it was supposed to be keeping her alive. A slow, lopsided smile played in Paige’s eyes, it wasn’t on her lips but Azzi saw it anyway and it made her grin.

Azzi raised one of her eyebrows, tilting her head ever so slightly, as if to say ‘Really?’

Paige just blinked back, one corner of her mouth twitching.

For the rest of the quarter, their eyes kept drifting. It was never long enough to make a scene, never blatant like Paige had done earlier, but always pulling back to each other like they were opposite magnets. Like they physically couldn’t help but look at the other while being in the same room. Paige’s gaze would linger after a timeout when Azzi laughed at something Rickea said. Azzi would glance toward courtside when Paige would lean down to grab her water bottle, watching until she saw her swallow the liquid and put it back on the floor. They weren’t speaking but something was definitely being said.

When the final buzzer echoed through the arena, the Sparks sealed a 92–76 win, giving them a 1–0 lead in the series. Azzi was one of the first to stand up already knowing where her eyes were going and of course Paige was already looking.

Azzi untucked her jersey and easily slid through the security and media making their way on the court as she made her way to the opposite sideline. There was still a little bit of sweat that clung to her neck, making her curls there damp. When Paige saw Azzi approaching she stood up from her seat.

When Azzi reached her, she should’ve been surprised but truthfully she wasn’t when Paige stepped into the hug without any complaints. Her arms slid around Azzi’s waist and settled low on her back, her fingers pressing against the fabric of her jersey.

Azzi tucked her chin into Paige’s shoulder and her lips brushed against her ear when she said, “Thank you for coming.”

Paige just hummed in acknowledgment and the sound melted into Azzi’s skin to keep her warm.

They didn’t part right away and anyone who was watching could see the slight intimacy in the hug. Paige’s thumb brushed circles on Azzi’s back, like she had no plans of letting go first and Azzi was just about to say something about how obnoxiously good Paige looked sitting there all night when Rickea’s voice caused them to pull away.

“Wow, that’s crazy,” Rickea said loudly, walking over like all she wanted to do was stir the pot. “Where my hug at Paigey?”

Paige blinked, turning her head toward her, not even pretending to look enthusiastic. “I don’t know you.”

Rickea’s jaw dropped. “Wowwwww. So that’s how it is now that you got a lil action?”

Paige just blinked at her.

Cam shook her head at their usual antics and looked at Paige. “Why haven’t I seen you once since you’ve been back?”

Rae spoke before Paige could answer. “She was probably hiding them fat ass hickeys from you Cam.”

Paige said dryly. “It’s one and I’m grown.”

Azzi’s lips twitched at the lie and her eyes naturally drifted down to Paige’s tank top, where she knew a few more were lingering just out of sight. When she realized what she was doing her gaze flicked away quickly, and Paige’s mouth curled slightly knowing exactly where Azzi was looking.

Before the group could settle into their usual rhythm of annoying Paige, the comms team called from the tunnel. “Ladies, media’s ready for you!”

Rickea groaned dramatically and started walking backwards. “Paige I swear I better get a hug after this or I’m snitching to TMZ.”

Cam tossed her towel over her shoulder and pointed at Paige on her way past. “We’re circling back about you avoiding me.”

Azzi lingered behind as the others jogged off, keeping her eyes on Paige like she wanted to say something. Paige met her gaze and raised her eyebrow. “What you got to say?”

Azzi finally smiled and it was soft and crooked, showing how genuine it was. “It’s not just one.”

Paige chuckled. “Damn, how you know that?”

Azzi shrugged like she wasn’t going to give Paige the satisfaction. “I wanna see you tomorrow.”

Paige nodded. “Lemme come over then.”

Azzi bit her bottom lip, trying and failing to hide the way Paige’s calm reply affected her. She took a few steps backward towards the tunnel as her gaze lingering on Paige like she wasn’t quite ready to go. She said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then she turned and jogged toward the tunnel, leaving Paige standing there with her hands in her pockets watching her.

The Sparks wrapped up the first round against the Valkyries in six games. A 4–2 series that stretched across two weeks, that was packed with physical matchups and hot-blooded crowds, made more intense by the California rivalry of two up and coming teams. The WNBA’s new playoff format, mirroring the NBA’s spacing, meant there were pockets of rest between each game. Two or three days between each one. Just enough time for a day of recovery or in Azzi’s case just enough time for her to drift into Paige’s orbit. And she did consistently.

During the small breaks, Azzi didn’t even pretend to play it cool or act like she didn’t want to be around Paige. Her free time, when it wasn’t spent watching film or at practice, was spent with Paige. It was never anything extravagant: lazy mornings at Paige’s place, finding her already in the gym and dragging her back to the bed under the guise of needing body heat in her cold room. Spontaneous grocery runs when they realized neither house had food that ended with a pint of melting ice cream between them, half-watched movies they forgot to finish. When they were watching film, for Azzi’s games or Paige’s next opponent, Paige would casually drape an arm around Azzi’s shoulders, while her other hand scribbled plays on a notepad for Azzi, and Azzi would just stare at her. Because somewhere along the way, she started noticing that behind all the stoicism and sarcasm, Paige was…extremely soft, gentle with her. The blonde was thoughtful in an almost annoyingly sweet way that usually had Azzi’s cheeks hurting. She noticed the way Paige always had a hoodie in her backseat because Azzi always got cold, or how she’d stock her fridge with Azzi’s favorite coconut yogurt even though she wouldn’t be caught dead eating it herself.

Paige, for her part, was falling hard, had already fallen head over hills honestly. But in classic Paige fashion, she didn’t say a word. She just held Azzi a little longer each night whispering something obnoxious in her ear just to hear her laugh. She kissed her like she was memorizing her. And she let her stay around even when she was agitated with the world and starting to get wound up because of her fight.

The second round against the Storm was tougher. Seattle was a more seasoned team and they pushed them to the brink. Seven games of back-and-forth basketball, ugly fouls, technicals, ejections, and down-to-the-wire finishes that went into overtime in three of the games. Somehow the Sparks pulled it out, all of them playing gritty with an unseen determination. Azzi had been amazing on both ends of the court, driven by the team's momentum and something quieter she didn’t need to name.

Somewhere in the middle of it—Azzi’s 100% sure it was after the second home game, just before they flew out to Seattle. She and Paige were at a small, tucked-away Italian spot because Paige wanted to take her on a date before not seeing her for a few days. Paige was cutting into her lasagna, unbothered that Azzi was eating most of her food off her plate instead of her own, when she asked Azzi if she wanted to be her girlfriend.

There was no preamble comment. No unnecessary nerves. Just Paige looking Azzi in the eyes and saying, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Azzi blinked, mid bite of her food. She wanted to immediately say yes, had wanted to ask Paige herself since the cabin but she said, “You’re serious?” just to make sure.

Paige nodded calmly. “I mean, we’ve been talking for a minute. And we’re…well, you know.” She gestured vaguely to them always being together. “And the way we’ve been—”

Azzi had to reach across the table, placing her hand over Paige’s mouth knowing she was probably about to say something inappropriate. “Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend. Stop talking before you ruin it.”

Paige grinned behind Azzi’s hand, pleased with herself.

Everything was rolling on and off the court. The Sparks were gaining momentum, Azzi was thriving, and Paige made everything else in her life feel lighter.

The team decided to celebrate their series over the Storm and the LA club was packed—sweaty bodies pressed together under lights, the bass thumping deep enough to rattle rib cages of those standing close enough to the speakers. It was one of those nights where everyone in the city seemed to be out, and the Sparks had claimed their own roped-off section in the back. They had velvet couches, bottles lined up in ice, and there was enough noise to drown out even your own thoughts.

Paige didn’t want to be there. She had another fight scheduled and the closer it got, the more tightly coiled she felt. Her body was on edge everyday and her brain was wired the moment she opened her eyes. Normally, she’d be at home, hitting one of the heavy bags until her knuckles ached, and she’d end the night wrapped around Azzi on her couch until Azzi inevitably fell asleep despite her promises of making it through whatever movie she put on. But then Azzi pouted at her, with her bottom lip jutting out and her brown eyes big, telling Paige she didn’t want to go to the club alone. That’s how Paige ended up standing in the middle of a club in downtown LA, dressed in all black, watching her girlfriend grin under the strobe lights like the universe wouldn’t ever dare say no to her.

At the bar, a mixed drink was offered to her, something dark and glittering on the rim with a lime wedge but Paige shook her head, barely glancing at it.

“It’ll make me feel bad,” she said softly, leaning into Azzi’s ear so she could hear her over the music.

Azzi just nodded and pushed the drink to someone else before she pulled Paige into a kiss, her nails scraping the blonde’s scalp slightly. Paige hummed against her lips before letting herself be tugged back into the section, back into the fold of Azzi’s teammates and friends who were having loud drunken conversations.

For a while, everything was perfect. Azzi sat on Paige’s lap at one point, idly running her fingers along the back of her neck while Rickea recounted the final minutes of Game 7 like it was her own personal hell, Rae was dancing with someone she didn’t introduce, and Cam was vibing in her usual way. It was all just background noise to the way Azzi kept looking at Paige though. Like she was the only calmness in the hectic night they were having. Azzi kissed her neck whispering, “Thank you for coming up with me.” Paige squeezed her thigh she was holding and kissed her shoulder in response.

Then Cam stood up saying, “I gotta step out real quick,”

Paige looked towards her saying, “By yourself?” as she sat up on the couch a little straighter.

Cam nodded. “I’ll be two seconds, don't worry about it.”

Paige didn’t want her going by herself so she said, “Hold on.”

She leaned in to kiss Azzi gently on the cheek before sliding her off her lap easily. “Be right back.”

Azzi tilted her head up, her eyes drifting between Paige and Cam. “You okay?”

Paige gave her a small nod, leaning down to give her a kiss. “Yeah I just don’t want Cam going out there by herself.”

Azzi nodded and watched Paige slip out of the section following Cam outside the club.

Outside, Cam was leaning against the wall of the club with her phone pressed to her ear as she spoke to Ben. Her voice was casual so it was probably just the two of them checking in but Paige didn’t really care to eavesdrop. She just stood next to her silently, watching cars blur past and drunken people stumble into the club and others complain that they couldn’t get in. The air was cooler outside, it felt nice compared to the heat of the club and she flexed her jaw once before closing her eyes and letting her shoulders settle as she rested her head against the wall.

Cam ended the call a few minutes later and glanced at her. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, opening her eyes.

Cam nodded as they easily made their way back through the bouncers and the velvet rope, the heat of the club slamming into them again almost immediately. When they reached the section, Paige noticed Azzi was no longer there and her eyes scanned the club from her vantage point. Eventually she caught a glimpse of Rickea’s and Azzi’s frame next to her at the bar.

But besides that she saw some drunk dude leaning a little too close to Azzi talking to her animatedly even though she clearly wasn’t listening to whatever was coming out of his mouth.

Paige calmly slid through the crowd as she stepped past people dancing to get toward the bar.

She announced her presence before slipping her hand around Azzi’s waist not wanting to catch her off guard. Offering a “Wassup,” in Azzi’s ear.

Azzi turned, smiling softly as her body leaned toward Paige like gravity itself made the decision. “Hey.”

The guy who was definitely too far gone, noticed the interruption and frowned. “Yo, I was talking to her.”

Paige didn’t acknowledge him keeping her gaze on Azzi as hse checked on her. “You good?”

Azzi nodded, smiling softly at her. “Yeah.”

The guy was still standing too close swaying where he stood as he waited for Azzi to give him the time of day.

Paige turned her head toward him. “She with me.”

The guy scoffed, swaying a little. “She sure as hell didn’t look like she was yours standing here by herself. Look like she could do better with a man who could do something for her.”

The comment made Paige’s jaw tick and she turned her full body towards him. It was almost uncanny how fast her eyes changed from the softness they just held for Azzi. “What the fuck you just say to me?”

The guy grinned, sloppy and proud of himself as he hiccuped. “You heard me. You look like the soft type. Probably couldn’t do shit to stop me if I wanted to have her right now.”

When Paige heard those last words her entire posture changed and she looked like she could kill him in that moment. “I want you to try it,” she said way too calmly for the situation. “Gimme a reason to beat your ass without getting arrested.”

From the section, Cam’s posture stiffened and Rae’s eyebrows furrowed when they saw what was unfolding. Without saying anything both of them started moving toward the bar.

Azzi’s hand pulled against Paige’s stomach from behind her, trying to get her to step back. “It’s fine, baby,” she said gently. “He’s drunk.”

Paige didn’t take her eyes off the man in front of her. Her fingers twitched at her side like she was itching for him to say something else.

Rickea stepped around all of them putting herself between Paige and the man, her height an easy barrier as Azzi rubbed circles on Paige’s stomach now, trying to soothe her.

Paige eventually tore her eyes away from him and Rickea let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. Paige didn’t say a word she just gave a sharp exhale as she cracked her knuckles moving to walk away.

But of course, the dude didn’t know when to quit.

As they moved to head back to the section, he called out after her. “Damn I didn’t know you had two of 'em. I could probably take a turn at both if I had my boys with me.”

Paige turned as the tension in her spine snapped as she moved halfway toward him ready to swing but Cam and Rae were suddenly there putting their hands on her shoulders, pushing her back the other way.

“Paige, for real just let it go,” Rae said loud enough for her to hear.

“You’re good, he’s just talking,” Cam added as she nudged her back.

The guy was still mouthing off behind them, and spectators were starting to look at the scene unfold. A completely inebriated man and a bunch of 6 foot women easily drawing eyes.

Paige let Cam and Rae push her in the opposite direction as she walked backwards still staring at him. Azzi kept one hand laced with hers the whole way back and Rickea walked in front of everyone clearing a path.

No one said it, but they knew the night was over.

When they got outside Cam reached into Paige’s pocket herself to get her valet ticket while Rae and Rickea leaned against the nearby railing. Azzi was curled into Paige’s side despite her being rigid. She hadn’t said a word since they left the club and her stare was distant like she was keeping her mind somewhere else so she couldn’t process how pissed off she was.

Azzi’s fingers traced across Paige’s face like she loved to do as she pressed a kiss to her jaw. “He’s not worth it, don’t even worry about it,” she whispered. “I’m okay. We’re good.”

Paige didn’t answer her but her hand held Azzi’s waist a little tighter, and she kissed the top of her head.

Just as the valet pulled up with Paige’s matte black Escalade she was driving tonight because her other car didn’t have enough room for everyone, obnoxious laughter rang out behind them.

A group of guys stumbled out of the club doors. They were loud, sloppy and one of them was half-carrying the drunk dude from earlier.

Paige’s jaw tightened again as she closed her eyes trying to calm herself down, security naturally stepped between them, trying to keep a barrier and give them enough time to step into the car.

Azzi could feel Paige spiraling next to her so she just tried to pull her towards the car but as they were about to step off of the curb there was a harsh smack to Azzi’s ass. It was quick and disgusting as he stumbled by with glassy eyes. The contact was loud enough to cut through the chaos of his just as obnoxious friends laughing.

For a split second, everything seemed like it froze until all hell broke loose.

Before anyone could reach out and grab her Paige slipped past security easily and an audible sound echoed as her fist connected with his jaw, sending him staggering backwards into one of his friends who barely caught him in time.

But she didn’t stop after the first swing. She grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up like he didn’t weigh anything and threw two more punches. His head snapped back and blood was already rushing from his nose as his friends stumbled forward to intervene, but they were too drunk and too slow to even process what was happening fully.

Another punch landed clean against his cheekbone causing it to bust open before security finally surged forward, locking their arms around Paige’s torso and pulling her back.

“The fuck is wrong with you? Didn’t I tell yo stupid ass” Paige yelled, still trying to push forward. Her arms twisted against security’s hold, her split open fists still clenched.

Cam was standing in front of her when they let her go and pressed her palms into her shoulders tightly. “Paige.Chill. It’s done. He’s done.”

Rickea looped her arm around Paige’s and started pulling her back. “Come on. Walk with me. I need some air,” she said.

Reluctantly—barely—Paige let herself be pulled away.

Back near the curb, Rae stood by Azzi, keeping a cautious eye on the guy still groaning in pain on the ground. “You good?”

Azzi didn’t answer. She just blinked in confusion at how fast things went sideways, her eyes darting from the guy, to his friends trying to help him up mumbling about how he shouldn’t have touched her, to the smears of blood on the sidewalk. Her stomach turned and she felt sick to her stomach.

She looked over her shoulder to see Paige halfway down the block with Rickea on one side and Cam on the other side talking to her probably about nothing trying to pull her out of her head.

All Azzi could do was stand there, her hand rising to her face as she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to process what the hell just happened.

…

After that night outside the club, something felt off. Not wrong. Just kind of…off.

She and Paige were still good. Still soft and warm in the moments they got to share but time suddenly became the enemy. Between traveling for the playoffs and Paige locking in on her next fight, their texts grew a little shorter and calls grew less frequent. Azzi told herself it was fine that they were both just busy. Focused in the way that made her flip her phone over when she was eating with her team and looked down to see a message from Paige saying: I miss you. It didn’t mean anything she was just living in the moment and would text back later.

The series against the Liberty barely felt like a series at all. You blinked and it was over. The Sparks lost 4–1, and Azzi swore she played like shit in every game. Her mind kept drifting to everything but basketball. Moving between flashbacks of blood on the ground, Paige apologizing to her so delicately when they got home and holding her like she was protecting her from the world when they went to sleep that night. The feelings in her chest since the cabin she still hadn’t figured out how to name, her throat feeling like sandpaper more and more each day.

Now she was back in L.A., the season was over, a month and a half of playoffs behind her and a hollow space where adrenaline used to live every other night.

No games scheduled for tomorrow. No practices. No more next round to keep her distracted.

Just a lot of empty time and a headache every second of every day.

It had been a week since they lost when she got to Paige’s house one night, it was pretty late but she couldn’t sleep and just wanted Paige to hold her. Too late for the lights in Paige’s home gym to still be on. But they were leaking through the windows like warning signals.

Azzi let herself in quietly, sneakers shuffling softly across the backyard. She followed the rhythmic sound of punches landing—sounds she’d started to grow familiar with.

When she walked in Paige’s back was to her and her hoodie sleeves were rolled up, her fists flying like she hadn’t taken a break in hours.

Azzi leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. “It’s almost midnight.”

Paige didn’t stop. “I know.”

“Then come inside with me.”

“I will in a little bit,” Paige said. “Just…not yet.”

Azzi sighed, stepping closer. “Paige please.”

Still, Paige kept going, breathing sharp as she threw punches at the back. “I really just need a minute.”

Azzi frowned at the denial, the tension in the room already heavy from both of them being wound up for different reasons. “I know you’ve been in here for more than a minute. What are you trying to beat out of yourself baby?”

That made Paige pause for a second. Her arms dropped to her side but her shoulders were still tight.

Azzi took another step toward her. “You don’t have to punish yourself every time life gets loud.”

“It’s not that,” Paige said, her voice indicating how frustrated she was. “I just need space for like five more minutes beautiful.”

Azzi shook her head, trying to stay calm. “You’ve had nothing but space for weeks.”

Silence.

Azzi let out a shaky breath, choosing her next words carefully. “You know you haven’t said a word about the club that night. Not once.”

Paige turned to face her slowly, her eyebrows furrowed. “What about it?”

Azzi’s arms dropped to her sides, her voice rising a little. “What about it? You beat the shit out of somebody in the middle of L.A. and I’m supposed to just…ignore it?”

Paige’s jaw flexed the frustration she was already trying to let out starting to grow. “He disrespected you, Azzi.”

“And you think I can’t handle that?” Azzi snapped. “You think I needed you to save me? To lose it in public like that?”

“He put his hands on you.” Paige said calmly. “You just wanted me to let that slide? You wanted me…somebody who gets paid to fight for a living…to sit there and do nothing when somebody violates you?”

“No, Paige that’s not what I’m saying! I wanted you to not completely black out, to walk away! You snapped. That wasn’t about me.”

“I was protecting you Azzi.”

Azzi laughed at the words like what Paige said was comical. Her anger is valid but a little misdirected in the moment. “No, you were trying to prove something. To him, to yourself—I don’t even know.”

Paige looked away, her jaw tight as she swallowed hard. “You don’t get it.”

Azzi stepped forward. “Then tell me! What don’t I get, Paige?! What the fuck have I been missing for the past three weeks?”

Paige’s voice rose slightly, frustration starting to bleed through. “You don’t know what it’s like to constantly feel like you’re fighting your own fucking head.”

Azzi’s eyes narrowed. “No, I just know what it’s like to be with someone who shuts me out. Who tries to handle everything with her fists instead of her words.”

Paige’s voice cracked. “I don’t wanna hurt you—”

“But you did Paige!” Azzi yelled, cutting her off. “You did! Not just at the club. Every time you disappear in your head for a few hours. Every time you pretend like you’re fine and make me feel crazy for knowing you’re not!”

There was silence after Azzi said that. She stood there breathing a little harshly, her eyes glossy and Paige looked at her like she was trying to find the right words, but all she could do was move towards her slowly, cautiously like approaching a wounded animal.

She reached out, lifting her hands wanting to cradle Azzi’s face, her voice trembling. “I don’t wanna fight. I’m trying. I’m trying, Azzi—”

But Azzi flinched when Paige got close enough. Not dramatically. Just a tiny, instinctive pullback. Enough to stop Paige exactly where she was. She froze mid-motion. Her hands hung in the air for a moment before falling to her sides numbly.

Something in her shattered. Right there, in front of Azzi. Like glass cracking behind her eyes.

Not just her heart. That would’ve been too simple to feel. It felt like her entire soul fractured all at once. Something deeper than the bones she’s broken, deeper than the blood she’s spilled, collapsed under the weight of that split second. The one silent message her brain started screaming at her. She’s scared of you.

Her chest caved in like her body forgot that it was supposed to breathe for her.

“I would never…” Paige’s voice cracked, barely a whisper. “I would never hurt you baby.”

Azzi’s face fell instantly, regret surging through her like a wave crashing over her, drowning out every other emotion she had been feeling. But it was too late, the damage had already been done.

Paige took a few steps back, her movements unsteady like she was trying to retreat into herself before she shattered in front of Azzi. Her breath hitched and got stuck. It was like her entire mind had gone static; every thought, every instinct the human body naturally had flickering out like a dying light. Her brain a fragile mosaic breaking apart from the inside.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and the words cracked in her throat, merely making it past her lips. “I’m so sorry.”

Her hands trembled as she ripped off her gloves, as if they all of a sudden burned her skin. One fell on the floor and the other stayed clinched in her shaking hand.

“Baby…” Azzi reached out, desperate to take it back, to fix it somehow, but Paige shook her head gently.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered again, her voice getting stuck on every syllable. “I didn’t mean to…I didn’t…I would never.” Each of her apologies came out softer, more strained, like she was starting to choke on them. Her gaze never went back to meet Azzi’s. She couldn’t look at her.

“I’m just gonna go,” Paige whispered, her voice splintering at the edges.

“No—Paige, wait. This is your house,” Azzi said desperately as she stepped forward again.

But Paige only shook her head again, a sad, almost weightless smile flickering on her face. “It’s late, I don’t want you to…just…stay. Sleep here.”

Her tears were brimming now, her composure unraveling in real time. She offered one last, “I’m so sorry beautiful.”

Before Azzi could respond, before she could reach out or say anything to get Paige to stay she turned and left.

The sound of the gym door clicked shut behind her and Azzi stood frozen in place, unable to move, her heart chest splitting clean down the middle as the silence swallowed the room that smelled too much like Paige.

Outside the loud rumble of her Audi engine cut through the stillness of midnight and a moment later Azzi heard it pull away.

She stood there alone not knowing what to do but let the tears fall down her face, Paige’s warm house suddenly too quiet, too cold.

[millersfinest]

untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!), chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Rihanna featuring Jay-Z - Umbrella 2007

"Umbrella" is a song by Barbadian singer Rihanna, released worldwide in March 2007 as the lead single and opening track from her third studio album Good Girl Gone Bad (2007). Jay-Z co-wrote the song with its producers Tricky Stewart and Kuk Harrell, with additional writing contributions coming from Terius "The-Dream" Nash. "Umbrella" was written with American pop singer Britney Spears in mind. Stewart and Nash thought that Spears, who had "her personal life … a little out of control" at the time, needed a hit as a musical comeback, and sent a copy of the demo to Spears' management. However, Spears did not hear of the song because her label Jive rejected it, claiming they had enough songs for her to record. It was also given to British singer-songwriter Taio Cruz, who failed to convince his record company Mercury to release it. American R&B singer Mary J. Blige was next on the list. However, Blige failed to hear the song in full due to her obligations to the Grammys at the time and "had to sign off on the record before her reps could accept it".

"Umbrella" received universal critical acclaim upon release and was a global success, topping the charts in 19 countries such as Australia, Canada, Germany, Spain, Ireland, Norway, and Switzerland. It managed to stay atop the UK Singles Chart for 10 consecutive weeks, the longest run at number one for any single of that decade, and is also one of the few songs to top the chart for at least 10 weeks. As one of the highest digital debuts in the US at the time, it remained atop of the US Billboard Hot 100 for seven consecutive weeks. In February 2023, the song re-entered the US Billboard Hot 100 following Rihanna's performance at the half-time show of Super Bowl LVII, peaking at number 37. Worldwide the song has sold more than 6.6 million copies, making it one of the best selling singles of all time.

Entertainment Weekly ranked the song number one on the 10 Best Singles of 2007, while Rolling Stone and Time listed the song at number three on the 100 Best Songs of 2007. It won Video of the Year and Monster Single of the Year at the 2007 MTV Video Music Awards and Most Watched Video on MuchMusic.com at MuchMusic Video Awards. "Umbrella" is also a playable song in the 2012 video game Just Dance 4. And, as the majority of rebloggers have happily stated, actor Tom Holland delightfully danced to it on MTV's Lip Sync Battle.

"Umbrella" received a total of 86,5% yes votes!

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

[a-spes]

| THE PLACE WE'VE BEEN DREAMING OF - Imagine (1,109 words).

| Summary - when Natasha enventually gives in, and accept her wife's demand to adopt a pet.

| Tags & warning - Men & Minors DNI, soft dark!wandanat x R, not really pet play but R is reffered to as one (stray/mutt/it), a man being mean, mentions of death, hints of (past) abuse, pure fluff/comfort.

| Author's note - I wrote that quickly because it has been on my mind for so long, and I definitely needed to share it with the world, but hope you'll enjoy it anyway! I'll definitely write a longer version of it when I've time, but for the moment, here goes the first introduction to The place we've been dreaming of alternative universe (and it's only the beginning because i've so many thoughts to share about it) <3

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

it was wands' idea. she had begging nat for years, talking about how good it would be to have a pet, just to bring a bit of life in the household.

and that's exactly what natasha feared. because she likes how quiet, and tidy, her house is. she likes the routine she built with her wife over the years, and she is reluctant to bring another piece in her house.

but how could she deny her wife when she begs her with those puppy eyes?

so she eventually gave in, and they went into a place that's only known by the richest persons. it's kind of a shelter, but instead of animals, human being are sold.

they walked in, wands looking in the cages while nat roll her eyes everytime she tries to have her opinion. "did you find what you want?" the seller asked, and nat looks at her wife that seems to hesitate. "what's over here?" she asked back, pointing to a noisy alley that constrats with the quiet one they've just travelled.

the sellers just dismissed her question, "they're unfit" he just replied, "they're going to be send off tomorrow". "where?" wands asked. "to be killed", he replied, but when he tried to get the conversation back on his best goods, wanda ignored him: she wanted to see these ones. nat isn't surprised, her wife always having a thing for saving broken being, but she still roll her eyes, thinking about the additionnal trouble it'll bring.

so, before the man could say anything, they walk in the alley. the ambience is different. yells, cries, and dark glances greet the women, while in the first alley, everyone's was perfect. nat cringes while her wife walk around, until she crouches in front of a cage that, at the first sight, appears to be empty.

except that, that you are here. in the back of the cage, hiding where the light can barely find you, trying to forget where you are. the noise is frightening you, but your hands covering your ears isn't enough to reduce it. the yells from the other still bugging you.

you've no idea for how long you've been here, but it felt like an eternity. you've been sent back here by your previous owner, it was your last chance, you've been told, and you don't know what's going to happen. when the door clicked, you thought your hour had come, and it only made you curl up further.

but the hand that came for you wasn't harsh. it hasn't tried to grab you. when you eventually open your eyes, your met by the sight of a woman, that's trying to get you to come to her. her voice is sweet. she doesn't yell as you thought she would when you didn't move at first.

the men had to bang against the walls to get you out, which earn him a glance from both of the women. he ignored them. "this stray has one of the worse behavior. she bites, is noisy, messy, agressive, ..." but wanda isn't listening anymore. she is just looking at you, sitting in front of her, unable to ignore the look on your eyes. the fear, and the exhaustion.

you didn't bite. you didn't made a noise. you didn't try to run away.

you only flinched when she reach out to stroke your cheek, but a second was enough for you to lean into her contact. it was so sweet. so gentle. and, for the first time, it felt genuine, and even the slap or the harsh grip you were waiting for never came. she was looking at you with pity, and something you couldn't name yet.

"... she couldn't behave even to save her life, we've tried everything. she's trouble", he adds, still talking even if none of the women is caring about his opinion, "believe me, she'll be better dead", and nat muttered something how he should be the one to die, while wanda didn't listen at all to his speech, all her attention being on you right now.

"you're sure that's the one you want, wands?" she asked, but she already knew her wife would nod, and she is definitely not going to fight her, especially when she sees how attached she already seems to be.

she looked at her while she take a biscuit out of her pocket, just to give a bit to you, but ends up giving you everything when she notices how you inhaled it. her brows furrowing together, but she doesn't say a word. she knows it would be useless to start a scene right now, this man perfectly knowing how bad he is treating you, and everyone else here. or maybe he doesn't, and doesn't realizes, thinking you deserve it, and then it would be pointless to argue with him. in that instant, she wishes she could take them all home, and if she can't, she can at least save one life.

"we didn't even bring her home yet that you're already spoiling her" nat complained, rolling her eyes. a whispered, "she deserves it", is muttered under her breath while the man seems annoyed, "if you're too lenient, you're going to regret it. you need to be firm with these things, you know." "and how would you know?" nat would ask, "apparently it didn't work well, from what you said earlier" and she smirks when she notices he starts to loose his temper, his voice being harsh when he replies, "then do not even think about taking her back when you'll realize how bad she is," just to nat to assure him that he "doesn't need to worry about that".

she isn't found of her wife's choice. she would have prefer it if she choose one of the perfect pet from the first alley. one of the one that wouldn't disturb her peace. but obviously her wife had to go for a stray, a mott, and a broken one by the way. but if there are two things she enjoys it's seeing her wife smiling, and pissing off men that thinks they know everything. if adopting that one allows to do it both at the same time, then she's all for it. a part of her wanting to prove the man that he is just wrong, and is the problem in that story.

[skateordiebitch]

Request: Dom proposing after a short while of dating (like a year idk) because he’s just never felt like that before and is really happy with you. Maybe even eloping after a while of being engaged? Lol idk

I love the way you write him though, and your latest fics made me think of this! 🫣

Thank you🤍

DANCING IN THE COURTHOUSE || D.F. x reader

summary: in which dominic finally pops the question.

word count: 3.1k

wait y'all are so good at coming up with these... i just recently watched 'anora' hence the las vegas eloping!!! #inspired. the movie was so good! anyways i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 requests r always open!

Dominic’s hands trembled slightly as he slipped the key into the door of the apartment you shared. The moment you stepped inside, you could feel the weight of the night—his sold-out concert, the long months of hard work, the screaming fans, the adrenaline. 

But in the quiet of the apartment, away from the lights and noise, it felt like it was just the two of you again, alone in the world, as it had always been when the chaos faded.

It was just past midnight, but the air in the apartment still buzzed with energy, the kind of energy that only a night like this could leave behind. 

Dominic closed the door behind him, leaning back against it for a second as if he needed a moment to catch his breath. 

His eyes found you immediately, and in the soft light of the apartment, you looked more stunning than ever. Your eyes sparkled, still alive with the afterglow of the concert, and he couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for you.

You kicked off your shoes and slid your jacket off, your movements a little sluggish, a little carefree, as if the world outside was a distant memory. 

“Need some water or something?” you asked, your voice teasing but full of warmth. You were always the one who kept everything grounded, even in the wildest moments.

“Yeah, maybe that’ll help,” he chuckled, but it wasn’t the water he was after. 

He grabbed the glass you handed him, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt through him. The simple touch made his pulse race. 

But instead of drinking, he set it down on the counter, his eyes never leaving you. His mind was elsewhere, the weight of everything building as he took in the room—this apartment, this life, this person.

You looked at him curiously, tilting your head. “What’s on your mind, baby?” you asked, your voice soft and reassuring, “You never look like this after a show.”

Dominic swallowed hard, clearing his throat. “You know, tonight’s been pretty crazy,” he said, the words coming out more fragile than he expected. He smiled, though, the thought of the night’s success still buzzing in the back of his mind.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “You mean the part where you performed in front of thousands of screaming fans, and fucking killed it?” You smirked. “Yeah, I was there. I saw it.”

Dominic’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “Yeah, that was incredible. But I wasn’t talking about the concert, or the show. I was talking about you and me. The last year… it’s been more than I could’ve ever imagined.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at him, sensing the change in the air. 

This wasn’t just a casual conversation anymore. He was serious. And it slightly terrified you, “What do you mean?” you asked, a little breathless.

He reached for your hand, his thumb grazing the skin of your wrist as he gently pulled you closer. 

“It’s weird, you know? It’s just… I grew up dreaming about this life—touring, being on stage, making music. I thought that’s what I was chasing. But then… then you walked in, and suddenly everything changed.”

“In a good way… Right?” You asked, feeling your heart skip a beat.

He chuckles softly, nodding his head, “Yeah, baby. The best way possible. I realized that everything I thought I wanted wasn’t the real dream at all. You were. You are.”

You felt your breath catch as his words settled in, and for a moment, everything else in the world fell away. 

The noise, the expectations, the future—it all blurred, leaving only Dominic and the intensity of his gaze.

“I never thought I’d be someone who needed someone else, but with you, I feel different,” he continued, his voice steady now but filled with emotion. “Being with you makes me feel like I’m finally moving in the right direction. It’s like for the first time in my life, I’m running toward something, not away from it. You’re that something. You make me want to be better, to be more. I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

His words struck a chord deep inside of you. You could feel your heart flutter wildly, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming. “Dom, you make me feel like I can do anything. You make me want to be better, too.”

He smiled, his eyes shining with that familiar affection. But then his expression changed, growing more serious again. 

He squeezed your hand, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I know this is sudden, but I need to know. I need to ask you something.”

Before you could respond, Dominic reached into his pocket. 

You froze for a second, heart pounding, unsure of what was happening. 

Was this a dream?

He pulled out a small velvet box and slowly, carefully, opened it. 

Inside was a simple but stunning engagement ring, sparkling softly under the kitchen lights. Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as you looked from the box to his face, the gravity of the moment sweeping over you.

“I’m asking with everything in me… Will you marry me?” Dominic asked, his voice barely above a whisper, full of vulnerability and earnestness. “I know it’s only been a year, but I’ve never felt this sure about anything in my life. I want this. I want us. I want you.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the words barely reaching you as a flood of emotions crashed over you. 

Everything you had ever wanted, everything you had dreamed of—it was right here, in front of you, in the form of Dominic. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you simply nodded, tears filling your eyes. It started as small tears, trickling down your cheek, to you almost full on sobbing;

“Yes. Yes, of course I will! I want this too… I want you, always.”

Dominic exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

A grin broke across his face as he slid the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking with excitement and disbelief. Then he pulled you into his arms, lifting you off the ground in a tight embrace, as if he couldn’t hold you close enough.

“I fucking love you,” Dominic exclaims, “So much,” He was the happiest you’ve ever seen him; No sold out show, no amount of followers, fans, or fame, has given him the smile that you saw on his face in this moment.

He held you there, his lips pressing against your temple as you both stood, basking in the joy of the moment. You laughed, shaky and breathless, feeling overwhelmed by the love that wrapped around you both. 

No sold-out show, no roaring crowd, had ever given him the feeling that surged through him now—the pure, unadulterated joy of knowing you were his, and he was yours.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you whispered.

Dominic pulled back just enough to look at you, his face soft with tenderness. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment, you know that?” His voice was thick with emotion. 

“But, Dom, I haven’t even given my wedding day a thought, I don’t even know when, how, where— I never thought I would get married,“ You admit.

You truly haven’t; All your life you just assumed you’d be stuck in the dating phase. That you would date until you were fifty. Marriage had seemed so out of the question— Even with Dominic, you could see marriage, but never in a million years expected it.

The smile on Dominic’s face never disappeared, so you assumed that he had yet another trick up his sleeve. Your brow furrowed in curiosity, a grin emerging, “What are you thinking?”

Dominic grinned, the familiar mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. “Well… I’ve always dreamed that if I ever got married, it had to be in Vegas. And it had to be by Elvis.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden burst of excitement. “Wait, really?!” you giggled, “You want to get married by Elvis?”

He laughed, his hands sliding down your arms to hold you by the waist. “I mean, shit, why not? It’s been my dream forever, and you’ve made all of mine come true already. This is my last one, and I can’t think of anyone better to share it with than you.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter. 

This was so Dominic—spontaneous, weird, and a little crazy—but in the best way. This man is unapologetically himself. And for the first time, you realized how much you loved that about him. 

This wasn’t a traditional proposal, and that was exactly why it was perfect.

You looked into his eyes, seeing that raw sincerity, and your heart swelled with affection. 

This was the man you loved, the man you were going to marry, and you were going to do it in the most ridiculous, perfect way possible.

“Alright,” you said, wiping a tear from your cheek as you grinned at him. “Let’s do it. Let’s go to Vegas and get married by Elvis.”

Dominic’s face broke into the widest grin you’d ever seen, his whole body practically vibrating with excitement. “You mean it?”

“Absolutely. A rockstar marrying me to rockstar? It’s perfect.”

“This is why you’re about to be my wife,” He kisses you, “Let’s pack our bags, baby. We’re going to Vegas!”

Within hours, you were on a plane, Dominic’s hand tightly gripping yours, his gaze flickering to you every few moments like he couldn’t believe you were really there, his. 

By the time you stepped out onto the neon-lit streets of Vegas, his excitement was contagious, electric, as if you were both living out some incredible dream.

And with that, the two of you laughed together, the future ahead of you feeling brighter than ever. It was just the beginning of a crazy, wild adventure that you knew you were meant to take together.

—

His hand gripped yours tightly as he led you through the crowds, his gaze never straying far. 

You could still feel the rush of his concert echoing between you, the hum of adoration from thousands of fans, but now the night felt quieter, more intimate, even as the neon signs cast their colors across the night.

He caught your eye and gave you that familiar mischievous grin, the same one he’d given you the very first time you’d met. That smile alone was enough to make your heart race—still, after everything you’d been through together. 

There was something about the way he looked at you, like you were his whole world, that made even the chaos of Vegas feel like a sanctuary.

“This is happening, huh?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as the two of you approached the iconic Little White Chapel.

Dominic stopped and turned to you, his face softening with a look that held nothing but adoration. 

“This is really happening.” Then he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was as gentle as it was charged, his hand finding its way to your cheek as he held you close. “And it’s the best damn decision I’ve ever made,” he murmured.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and it was only then, standing just outside the chapel, that the weight of it all truly hit you. 

The reality of what you were about to do settled over you—a leap into a new life, a promise as bold and wild as the city around you. 

Only hours ago, you’d watched him light up the stage, and now you were about to start the rest of your lives together in this little, quirky Vegas chapel with an Elvis impersonator as your witness.

As you stepped into the Chapel, the surreal charm of the place sank in—the pink walls, the tacky floral arrangements, the warm glow of tiny white lights that seemed to twinkle just for you. 

But nothing around you really registered. 

The only thing you could focus on was Dominic’s hand in yours, steadying you, his fingers laced with yours as if he’d never let go. 

He looked at you with such warmth, such intensity, that it was almost overwhelming.

Dominic turned to you, his eyes glistening. He looked as though he was holding back tears. "I… I've been waiting my whole life for this,” he said, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know it until I met you, but every part of my life before this was just… waiting for you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek, knowing his words were as raw and true as they came. 

You squeezed his hand, trying to ground yourself in the moment, trying not to get lost in the tidal wave of emotions washing over you.

The Elvis impersonator cleared his throat. “Well, I reckon it’s time to exchange vows, if you two can bear it,” he said, his voice deep and dramatic, but with a glimmer of humor. “Let’s hear what you got.”

Dominic looked at you, inhaling deeply before he spoke. He hadn’t written anything down—he didn’t need to. 

He pulled your hand up, holding it close to his heart as he began.

“Before I met you,” he said, voice shaking slightly, “I was always running. From what, I’m not even sure. My past, my demons…just the weight of everything I carried. But then you walked into my life, and for the first time, I felt like I didn’t need to run anymore. I didn’t need to be anyone other than exactly who I am.”

He paused, swallowing hard, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’ve never let anyone in, not fully. But with you… you just saw right through me. You never cared about the mess, the chaos, the broken pieces. Somehow, you made it all feel like…like maybe I wasn’t so broken after all.”

You felt your heart break and mend in the same instant. 

Tears welled in your eyes, and you let them fall freely, your hand shaking slightly in his. He reached up, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb, his touch so gentle it nearly undid you.

“I love you,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper. “I love you so much, it scares me. I didn’t think I could feel this way. But I promise, for the rest of my life, until the day that I die, I’m going to do everything I can to make you as happy as you’ve made me. To be there for you, every single day. To show you that you’re my whole world, because… you are.”

Your breath caught, and for a second, you couldn’t find any words. Dominic’s eyes searched yours, as if waiting, hoping, and in that moment, you realized just how deeply he felt this—how much he needed you to feel it, too.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. 

“Dominic…” You glanced down, gathering your thoughts before looking back up, meeting his gaze. “I don’t think I’ve ever known what it meant to be loved until I met you. I thought I was fine on my own, that I was… okay being guarded, keeping people at arm’s length. But you…you walked right in and didn’t give me a choice. You showed me what it means to let someone in, to be seen, really seen.”

You paused, feeling the weight of what you were saying. “And somehow, in all my mess, you saw something worth loving. You showed me that I could let someone close and not be afraid. I promise, with everything I have, that I’ll always be by your side. Through every high, every low, every laugh, every tear. I’ll be there. I’ll be yours.”

Dominic blinked back tears, a tremulous smile breaking across his face as he laughed softly, almost in disbelief. “You’re mine,” he echoed, his voice thick with emotion. 

He held your hand a little tighter, his eyes brimming with a joy so profound you felt it in every inch of your soul.

Elvis, somehow just as moved by the scene, cleared his throat again, smiling at you both. “Well, if you two lovebirds are ready, I believe it’s time to seal the deal,” he said, his tone filled with a warmth that softened the otherwise kitschy ceremony.

Dominic grinned, his eyes never leaving yours. “This is it,” he whispered, almost as if he needed to say it out loud to believe it himself.

With that, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that held everything—every promise, every unspoken word, every hope for the future. The world faded around you, the sounds, the lights, everything blurring into nothingness as you felt his love in every heartbeat, every breath. 

 It was a kiss that held all the promise of your future, a kiss that was wild, tender, and full of everything you felt for each other. When you finally pulled back, he kept you close, his arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go.

As you stepped outside, hand in hand, into the vibrant Vegas night, the neon lights glowed around you, casting everything in a surreal, magical light. 

You looked at Dominic, still in disbelief that this was real, that this man was now your husband. He looked back at you, his eyes full of excitement, and with a grin, he said, “We really did it. We’re married.”

You laughed, your heart overflowing. “I can’t believe we just got married by Elvis.”

He squeezed your hand, his grin wide and full of joy. “I told you it was the only way.” Then he leaned down and kissed you again, pulling you close as if he wanted to keep you there, in that moment, forever.

“Mrs. Fike,” he whispered, a playful smirk on his face. “Guess that’s you, now.”

You laughed through your tears, unable to contain your joy. 

“It’s official,” you replied, grinning as he pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapped around you as if he’d never let go.

And as you walked through the crowded streets of Vegas, the noise and lights swirling around you, everything felt perfect. You knew that with Dominic by your side, every day would be its own adventure, filled with love, laughter, and the kind of magic that made even the most unexpected moments feel like a dream.

[chrisgetsmewetter]

Mile high club

Pairing: Bratty!Black!fem x Dom!chris

Summary: you and chris are in a private plane section together, what’s gonna happen when everyone on the plane is sleeping and it’s just you two?

Warnings: Dirty talk, Overstimulation, sex obvi, oral, p in v, pet names (mama, ma, baby)

word count: 5.6k

authors note: i hope u guys like this one😝 i had a fun time writing it and i think y’all will like it toooo. enjoy you lil freaky frogs

you and Chris have been together for over a year, which is crazy because of how much commitment issues he said he had.

you’ve gone public recently and most people have given you a ton of loves so now your youtube channel of 7.3mil has went up to 9mil.

because of this you and the triplets had the idea to go on a combined tour which sold out immediately. now you guys are in the airport going to the next city.

“okay ma’am step here” the security guard gets the metal detector and goes down my body slowly. then you look at chris nervously as they get down to my boobs

“BEEP BEEP BEEP!!” chris bursts out laughing and can’t even stand up straight so he leans on matt who chuckles but hides it

“um ma’am..” the security guard looks at me awkwardly

“oh sorry i have piercings..” the security guard widens his eyes and nods then continues scanning my body.

you notice chris staring at your ass as you impatiently wait for the security guard to be done

just when he finishes scanning the triplets you push chris by his arm “chris why’d you laugh at me” you pout as he laughed even harder.

“passengers on private flight 2834 to Chicago start boarding now” you and nick start jumping up and down excited to get on the plane “i can’t believe we got a private planeee i’m so excitedddd”

“I CALL SHARING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND” chris yells. you slap his arm for being so loud since it’s nighttime.

nick rolls his eyes and groans already walking towards the plane then matt grabs your small suitcase that chris nor you couldn’t carry

he looks at nick and frowns jokingly “so u don’t wanna sit with me nick” matt says in his baby voice

“no actually. i want to sit by my best friend but chris’ crusty bitchass won’t let me, i know it”

you see chris stick his tongue out at nick while smacking your ass “chris stop acting like a child” you say

“your ass just looks so good in those shorts ma i can’t help it” chris whispers in your ear and you can’t help to smile but also low key squeeze your thighs together

*

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- heyy bae how’s the flighttt?

little troll😻🧌- hii madii the pilot said we just took off and aren’t expected any turbulence, so me and chris are abt to watch a movie

little troll😻🧌- nick n matt are already sleep even tho we jus got on😔🤦🏾‍♀️

Madi w that fattyyy- i wish i could’ve cameee, what time is it where u are??

little troll😻🧌- it’s 11:25 at night girl we’re still in LA😭

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- oh..

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- wait. so u and chris in a private plane at night with evb sleep😧

little troll😻🧌- yes..🌚

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- y’all r abt to join the mile high club😰

little troll😻🧌- no madi!!😡

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- yea okay..

read 11:28

*

“what movie mama” chris takes your phone and throws it on the other side of him “ooo let’s watch adventures in babysitting” you start to get excited and pull the blanket over yourself “newer or older?” chris says smirking already putting on the older one “noo the newer one is better why are we watching the old one”

“because we’re not gonna watch the movie” chris turns the volume up a little and takes his shirt off

“chris not in the plane !!” you whisper yell then look to see if anybody might’ve woke up

he takes advantage of you not paying attention and slowly slips your shorts off “my god chris calm down” u see him slide under the blanket and pull your panties off

“we won’t have a lot of time to do this on tour so let’s take advantage of it.“ he looks up at you with low eyes “can i?” as soon as you nod your head he slowly puts his long finger in your pussy.

“shit mama ur so wet for me” he twists his finger and spits on your pussy and starts slurping it

“fuck chris oh my god” you whisper yell then chris slaps his hand over your mouth “we can’t do this on a plane !!” you squirm

“be quiet or i’m gonna stop” chris sternly looks at you and continues sliding his fingers in and out of you while circling his tongue around your clit

he keeps doing this at an unbelievable pace then chris licks up from your stomach then starts kissing your boobs and pops one in his mouth

he starts to suck on nipples and when he heads your breathing slowly picking up, he fingers you even faster. “chris i’m gonna cum” you say as you feel your high coming up

“yea baby cum for me” and that’s all it took for your orgasm to come crashing down, that’s doesn’t stop chris though because right when you regain your composure just a little chris slips his shirt and sweats off and lines himself up with your wet folds

without warning chris shoves his cock inside your pussy, not allowing you to adjust to his massive size

“fuck~ chris wait a sec- oh my god” you try to push his arms away but he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head “you thought you were going a slut and wear those shorts then walk in front of me the whole day huh?”

you moan when you hear this, remembering that u indeed did intend to tease chris when you put them on. he smirks as he pounds into you not making as much noise as one would think “are you gonna be a good girl and give me words?”

you shake your head knowing exactly what you’re doing and what’s gonna happen. chris bites his lip and nods “well i guess i’m gonna have to treat you like the slut you are”

chris starts wrapping your fresh sewed in curls and uses them to get a better grip. you look back, confused and as you look at him in the eyes he starts ramming into you mercilessly.

just as you were about to to let out a pornographic moan chris shoves your head into the pillow so you would wake nick and matt up.

the view was amazing, his veiny cock coated in both of ur juices and sliding in and out of your wet pussy while your ass jiggles every time it comes in contact with his pelvis

I-it feels s-so good chris." I said closing my eyes. "Mmhm ma." He said thrusting into me at a fast pace now. "Fuckkk." I whined feeling a growing pressure in my stomach. I felt myself start to pulsate around his cock.

"Fuck,do that again." He moaned going faster than before. I clenched myself around him again and again. "fuck chris i’m gon- i’m gonna cum"

I moaned feeling my second orgasm approaching . "Me too baby, cum for me." He groaned which sent me over the edge. I clenched my walls around him, cumming hard.

"fuck~ chrisss" I screamed out grabbing onto his shoulders. "Yea baby i'm cumming." Finn said pulling out and squirting his cum onto my chest and stomach.

“turn around” his eyes are darker then ever so you comply. chris lays down, put props himself up and forcefully grabs your hair and shoved his dick down your throat

you started to lick his tip then spit on his dick making it easier to get in your mouth. you took his full length but gagged a bit.

you hear chris moan a bit as you felt his cock hit the back of your throat.

you loved every second of seeing his groan and shake because you usually have to force his submissive side to come out.

"Fuck I'm going to cum mama" chris said as he grabbed your hair. you felt his dick twitch a bit and his cum shot into the back of your throat as you swallowed it all

“fuck baby you’re such a good girl” chris wipes some saliva off of your lips and kisses you “you want me to get you some water?”

“yes please” you nod and chris helps you slide your shorts and t-shirt on.

—

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- y’all are nasty i just know it

little troll😻🧌- uhh🌚

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- disgusting🤦🏻‍♀️

[fayesia]

Okay DONT JUGDE ME PLEASE but I have an idea for mike schmidt. Okay so basically she(y/n) gets these new meds for the two of them it was basically like had idk what it's called but sm that makes them horny af and yk what happens next and also they r just friends when this happens. U can fill in the details with whatever.

a/n: Ahh no trust me i’m not one to judge people ever about what they’re into and stuff like that, obviously it’s different when i’m asked to write about smtg i’m uncomfortable with or if it’s illegal, but nonetheless here it is, i apologise in advanced as i did rush to get it posted but ye enjoy!! 😭

warning: most of my replies to requests i get don’t include warnings but please keep in mind before reading that this will contain ⚠️drugs, taking of drugs, irresponsible drug use!!⚠️ other than that it’s just the usual smut stuff :)

“come on you’re not gonna pussy out on me now are you?” you jab at Mike knowing he was the one boasting about the drug being a placebo that wouldn’t work.

“of course i won’t since i know it doesn’t even work. whoever sold it to you just got a free 30 dollars.” he looks down at you kneeling in front of the living room table slicing the pill in two. You were told by the seller that it was a hormone enhancing pill that was basically just stronger weed, so you were being cautious about how much you both took.

“ok fine hurry up give it here” sitting down next to you, Mike grabs one half swallowing it down in one go, you do the same. After 15 minutes neither of you feel anything.

“see i told you, it’s a fucking scam”

“no no we must’ve not taken it right, come on one more chance pleaseeee” you whine looking at him with your hands clasped together.

“fine. only cause your my best friend” “mike..i’m your only friend but ok”

Taking out two more pills you grab a cup using the base to crush them into a fine powder, with your credit card you finely crush it and seperate the pile of white powder into two even lines. Meanwhile Mike neatly rolls up a dollar bill leaning forward to snort up one line, handing the note over, you sniff up the powder feeling a sharp sting in your nose leaning back against the couch to relax and let everything settle.

First there was nothing and suddenly so much was happening all at once. In two minutes you and Mike had gone from sitting beside each other dazed as ever to feeling heat all over your body. The sensation causing you both to remove layers of clothing to avoid any effects of what felt like heatstroke. “god what the fuck is happening y/n?” you hear Mike say as he removes his clothing leaving him in a pair of black boxers, “idk mikey everything’s so hot and suffocating” you respond back stripping down to just your bra and denim shorts.

You feel the heat rising especially at your core, the denim shorts getting increasingly more uncomfortable once you’ve soaked through your underwear. Raising your head you notice Mike sitting with a pillow on his lap, “Mike…is that what i think it is?” Before he can reply you’ve already removed the pillow, the sudden movement of his body attempting to hide his raging hard on shocks you as you fall on top of him. His arms support you pulling you on top of his lap as you straddle his thighs. Not even caring at this moment, you grind your pussy against his thigh the rough denim rubbing against your clit as more liquid gushes from your pussy. A dark spot forms on your shorts as Mikes hands grab your hips to push you down harder. He abruptly stops,unbuttoning your shorts and pulling them down, he flips you over on the couch so your legs hang off the edge while your back lays on the seats. Kneeling down between your legs he spreads your thighs apart, fingers digging into the soft squishy flesh.

“fucking soaked aren’t you”

“please do something please”

“say it i wanna hear you”

“please touch my pussy”

His nose brushes across your clit through the thin material of your thong as his fingers rub you you’re getting increasingly wet. He quickly rips at the flimsy strings leaving you bare to him, your folds glisten with your wetness as you feel it dripping down. His fingers enter your mouth as you suck on them like you would a lollipop, tracing down past your hardened nipples and to your clit. The first few seconds after contact has you writhing around on the couch, things only getting more intense once you feel Mikes mouth on you. His tongue explores every crevice, caressing your delicate folds and spreading your juices all over. He spits on your clit watching it drip down before collecting it with his index and middle fingers, entering your tight hole and watching it stretch. you moan at the intrusion finally being filled by something, his two fingers feeling like three of your own. You’re so close to coming, his fingertips rubs harder and harder against the soft sensitive spot inside of you, until he removes them. your eyes shoot open widening even more once Mike flips you over onto your front holding both your hands above your head, you’re barely able to turn your head due to the position of your shoulders. The tip of his cock is pulsing and red as it rubs between your folds, poking at your sensitive clit.

The gentle movements lulling you into a further daze, however that’s quick to end once his dick starts easing into your pussy. It’s a tight fit and you weren’t sure about how much would fit but Mike just said “gonna stretch you til’ we fucking make it fit”, his words have you moaning into the couch, spit dribbling from the side of your mouth the more that he enters. His cock is about three quarters in and you’re sure you can’t take any more, that is until he starts pulling out and pushing back in.

Finally he’s all the way in and you’re pulsing around him, your channel trying to fit around the girth of him.

“ok i think it’s fine, you can move”

his thrust start picking up speed, the sound of his hips smacking against your ass bounce off the walls of the room, his heavy balls slap against your clit adding to the pleasure.

“fuck mikey harder please, i’m so close omg”

He picks up the pace going faster and deeper into you, his cock pushes hard against your g-spot spurring you closer to the edge.

“baby i’m gonna cum, fill you up nice and full, fuck you everyday you want that?”

“yesyes please i need you, cum for me baby”

He continues ploughing into you, hips stuttering as he tilts his head back releasing a low guttural groan, you can feel drops of liquid releasing every time he pulls outwards. Finally a stream of Mikes cum pools inside of you, his groans grow softer the more that spurts out, your pussy clamps down on him and more of your come is leaking down his length the droplets staining the couch. Mike rolls over off of you to lay on the couch beside your panting body. The two of you are covered in a sheen of sweat, out of breathe and still coming down from the effects of the drugs you both took. After a few minutes you’re both still in your underwear, Mikes head resting on your lap while you stroke his hair, the two of you thinking about having a discussion on what this would change about your friendship but with the state of high you were both in that topic was for another time.

“well now that we’ve proven it works what do we do now?” Mike asks looking back up at you.

Reaching over to grab something off the table you simply smirk and wave a small clear packet containing two pills, identical to the ones just taken around and hour and a half ago.

~unedited~

[exy-and-i-know-it]

I just work here

Based on this post by @all-for-the-things-breathing on Tumblr

Neil works at Exites because it's as good as he knows his Exy career will get, and he knows that for his safety, it must stay that way until one day, the Queen of Exy decides he simply must have him. (This is sort of a crack fic, but I can't write crack to save my life, so it's pretty serious until the very end. I'm also fairly new to writing in the past tense, so there is that.)

Note: The author of this prompt wrote a fic for this themselves, but I didn't see that at the time of my writing this (5th June). I haven't read it, but if you like this fic, you should probably check it out on their Tumblr @all-for-the-things-breathing.

A regular uni student, that’s what Neil Josten was. Absolutely, very, totally extremely, every word in the thesaurus, ordinary, that was for sure. Well, as ordinary as you can get with a serial killer for a father and mobster for a mother. Still, he’d managed quite well on his own he thought, managing to procure a job, just so it wasn’t too suspicious how he was so easily affording school. Okay, maybe a job as a sales clerk at a sporting goods store was that good a cover for his stolen cash, but jobs are hard to find!

And, in his defence, Exties was just any sporting goods store, no, no, no. Exites was a speciality store. They sold gear for one sport and one sport only: Exy. This happened to be the sport that Neil lived and breathed by, as much as he could anyway. He’d played Little League up until junior high, but that was all it was ever going to be for him. Having a team meant committing for a year, meant putting down roots which he couldn’t do when on the run, where he might need to skip town at a moment’s notice. He certainly couldn’t pick up the sport in uni, that would only force upon him the very notoriety he’d been trying to avoid all his life. He’d made his peace with that and this life in general. But he could watch, and he could dream.

This was as close to Exy as he was going to get, and that was good enough (it wasn’t), it had to be. And he did get to play some (barely, not really), when customers were trying out new racquets and needed someone to practise against. He’d copped to his junior high experience in his interview, it was the most honest he’d been in awhile and his head spun when the manager hired him on the spot. Apparently the rest of the staff were just more broke kids taking whatever they could get. There were a few little league coaches that helped and some highschool coahes that came in to advise on peanles the store held ocassionally, but they were never around reliably, so demonstrations and “try-ons” fell, nearly exclusively, to Neil. If he was a bit proud of that, he didn’t have to bring it up. Either way, the staff were glad to have him around. (If it didn’t make sense to him why someone would work in a shop selling gear for a sport they’d never even tried, he kept himself from saying so.)

And life in South Carolina wasn’t bad. The weather was good, in all but the peak of winter in December and January, and when it got hot, the aircon in the store would be on blast anyway. It wasn’t bad at all. On break, he’d chip away at the seemingly endless amounts of maths homework, or, if he was particularly tired, breeze through the Spanish with ease. He’d never tried the language before, but after years of living nearly everywhere, language came easily to him, a survival skill. And gaining a new one was comforting.

Truthfully, he’d never imagined university, never though he’d make it, couldn’t imagine it. When it had crossed his mind, he’d though of somewhere farther away, but international meant paperwork, and money didn’t grown on trees. But he’d needed to go. He justified it with the reasoning that he’d eventually need a job, even a low or mid-levle one, and a big crowd would be easier to hide in, plus it was guaranteed housing for four years, though he planned to graduate as quickly as possible. Right now, he was sorley wishing he had consistent enough transcripts that he could have done dual enrollment and graduated in two years instead. While he was glad for some creature comforts, the thought of staying in one place for so long honestly made him nauseous. He settled for taking an enormous classload instead, and with this job, and perhaps some work on the side (using skills he’d picked up on the run… this was far enough away for word not to get back to his father’s men, right?) he could even do summer classes again like he did last year before he’d had to get as stingy with his money. As he puzzled it out the idea when the bell chimed.

“Store closes in 30 minutes.” he said out of habit. 

There was no answer. He was tempted to look up, but he was so close to finishing his revision pamphlet that he didn’t want to break his concetraction.

When it was done he sighed and glanced at his watch. ‘Still 25 minutes until closing.’ The store had gotten a delivery earlier, maybe he could play with the news model of racquets.

Benefits of being a favourite was that the manager pretended not to notice if Neil stayed a few minutes after closeup just to feel a racquet in his hand. He’d asked him once, why he didn’t play for real. Neil said told the man he wasn’t good enough. That was probably true.

Even still, he liked it, loved it. Here, he’d gotten to “spar” with all kinds of players almost every day. Between that, early moring jogs, and making it to the school’s gym when he could, he’d managed to stay in pretty decent shape despite all the time he spent sitting at a desk. It helped that food wasn’t in abundance with the skimpy meal plan he’d chosen.

“Neil!” The sound of his name jolts Neil out of his thoughts.

“Yeah- uh, yes?”

“Need you up here for a try-out.” The manager shouted down from the top story. The store was so empty that his voice carried fine. His tone was light, and he was only in his early thirties, so Neil didn’t flinch.

“Coming!”

Perhaps a little too eager, Neil bounded up the steps.

The manager clapped him on the shoulder when he got to the top, saying not quietly enough, “Thoese are university athletes, the real deal. Be careful.”

Neil couldn’t make hismelf care, he wanted to play, even if just a few swings. “Oh, yeah, thanks. I’m locking up?”

“Sure,” he handed Neil the keys, “Have a good night, Neil.” Then he turned and added, “Study hard!”

It was swet that he’d remembered the test Neil had mentioned off-hand yesterday. “Yes, Mr. Thompson.”

Warmed, Neil walk towards the minicourt and faced the customers. He opened his mouth to give the usual spiel, but nothing came out.

He didn’t need to tell these people what to do, who was he kidding. One face stuck out, burned, like a memory, like a cigarett, like a car, like the balde of axe in his stomach.

Kevin Day. Holding a light racquet in his right hand.

‘Fuck.’

If he hadn’t just spoken to the manager, he would’ve used his English accent, but he’s been stupid, let his guard down, forgotten to observe his surroundings, and thus limited his options. ‘Dammit!’

From experience, he knew he had about five seconds to act normal before making his incredible awkward and potential very, very dangerous. Pretend to be clueless. Random bullshit, go!

“You all ready to test out the racquet? Have you found everything alright so far?” It sounded stupid, stupidly bland in front of this audience, but what choice did he have?

Kevin just gave a stilted, “Yes, it’s fine.” He looked almost as relieved as Neil felt not to be recognised. Weird. There’s no way that was possible. His eyes darted towards the court, but he couldn’t be as eager as Neil? No way. As calmly as possible, because this is what he was good at, Neil began unlocking the court.

The member of Palmetto State’s Exy team had brought his own gear, obviously. This was only a practice round to get a feel for the new racquet, but that didn’t make the Exy balls any softer. While he put it on, Neil took advantage of his distraction to steady himself as he put on his own gear. He took a breath, reminding himself of burning rubber and bone. As if he could ever forget. Those were the stakes, he needed to tread with utmost caution or be dragged back to Baltimore to be laid out like a pig on some stolen lab table, bled then gutted. Maybe his father would be quick.

“You coming, I don’t have all day.”

Neil jumps at Kevin’s voice, so familiar, so distant. This isn’t at all like the Kevin Day whose every interview he’d watched when he could, no, this person was all rough edges, and empty.

“Yeah.”

Shaking it off as best he could (Why couldn’t he? He’d seen worse.), he grabbed his racquet, (well it belonged to the store, but for this purpose, the manager had written his name on a piece of painter’s tape and stuck it on) and headed inside.  Unlike most courts, this one locked from the inside for liability purposes.

It was strange to watch Kevin grip the racquet with his other hand, like the earth had shifted its axis.

Then Kevin swung. It was gentler than Neil expected, like he was testing his hand, making sure it could bear the racquet’s weight. The sight was a little sad. Kevin adjusted quickly, he wouldn’t be here if he couldn’t, and tossed the ball to Neil.

Reminding himself to focus, Neil tossed the ball robotically back. A human pitching machine, that’s what he had to be. Sure, he had a little fun showing off in front of younger customers and even casual high school players, but there was no way he could pull that on the Queen of Exy. And even if he could, Kevin didn’t need that. Neil was sure he was already feeling terrible about his skiing accident already. If Neil couldn’t himself play Exy he should be glad Kevin was at least getting a chance back on the court.

Kevin’s gaze was intense, and Neil was very glad for his helmet obscuring at least part of his face.

Neil had learnt that sometimes, as much as it pained him, the best way to appear unsuspicious was to not worry at all, so he threw himself into the game. Every thought consumed with the trajectory of the ball. How weird would it look if he blocked that? How weird would it look if he didn’t. He’d never played while so carefully calculating his every move and it was at once terrifying, painful, and brilliant. He’s not sure he ever wanted to do it again. He would be glad when Kevin left. He was supposed to ask questions while the customer tried out the racquet, but he thought it was fair to assume Kevin could judge the feel for himself, even in his other hand.

Eventually, Neil lost track of time. It could have been five or ten minutes that had passed, maybe less, maybe more. Exy always did that to him, that’s why it was so dangerous.

When he looked, really looked at Kevin’s face for the first time in a while, a frightening smile sat there, a wicked grin, pure Exy adrenaline. Neil was jealous, so jealous.

And then the fun started. Kevin’s shots became tighter, more precise, more forceful, less a try-out and more something you see in a game. Goal after goal, the red lights must have been working overtime. Neil was worried that the off-brand walls of Exites’ court wouldn’t be able to take too much of this. Should he be blocking more of the shots? He could, but… Kevin’s expression was somewhat manic, not scary, not after all Neil had seen, but overzealous for sure. 

It was instinct, self defense almost. Everything in Neil’s body screamed not to let him lose. Every time those damned lights blinked red, it sent a prickle of anger through his chest. As Kevin’s shots increased in speed, Neil found himself matching pace, or rather didn’t find himself. He was completely lost in the game.

And the ball was coming towards him once more, the strongest shot yet. Fucking brilliant. Neil jumped, just a little, it was muscle memory at this point, and sent the ball flying back in the other direction. He was surprised, and yet not when it slammed into “Away-court”’s goal, exciting the red lights. He wasn’t bad but this was Kevin Day. Shit. What now? He could easily enough dismiss it as a fluke (he knew he couldn’t). As he considered it, he walked, at what he could best determine to be a reasonable pace, to retrieve the ball.

Ball now in hand, he made himself face Kevin, or rather his back. 

Kevin was completely still.

The only noise Neil would swear was a chuckle, probably coming from one of the guys that had come in with Kevin. “Interesting,” one of them said, but he sounded bored.

“Sir?” It felt wrong to call him that, but what else could Neil do? “Are you alright? Is the racquet suitable? You can try another if you like.” The suggestions were hollow, miserable.

“Five minutes.”was Kevin’s only reply.

“What?”

“Five minutes. You scored on me in five minutes, closer to three if you count the way you were barely trying before. Trust me, you think I didn’t notice? Do you know who I am?”

Internally, Neil was asking the very same question.

Kevin’s words weren’t arrogant, just incredulous. 

Neil shook his head, still readying his vocal chords for more lies. Under Kevin’s stare, he relaised he had to say something. “Uh, the manager said you guys were college athletes.” At last, Neil made himself look at Kevin’s three companions. Two blonds close to Neil’s height and the third, a brunet closer to Kevin’s.

“Sir, no smoking in the store.” the words fell out automatically at the sight of the cigarette after a year and a half of working here, but he wished he’d said nothing.

A hand grabs his shoulder and he’s ready to fight, his racquet is on the other sid eof the court, but the ball is heavy enough. 

He’s lucky Kevin still has his helmet on.

“Jeez, he’s a flighty one. Strange for what he just did to Kevi.” one of the guys whispers not quietly enough, the tall one, maybe, Neil guessed.

“I’m sorry!” The apology is acidic on his tongue; this is survival, there is no time for sorry, but he means it. 

“You’re sorry?” Kevin still looks dazed.

Time to paly dumb. “Yes, of course. I don’t normally hit customer’s I swear, you can ask Manager Thompson. You just startled me is all.” yeah that was about as convincing as a sales proposition for the brooklyn bridge. Neil lived a life of lies, so why now…

Kevin rolled his eyes, looking rather like he’d forgotten he had his helmet on when he went to smack his palm to his forehead. With a slight flush, he took it off, holding it like one would a basket ball against his side. Oh, well, Neil hated simpering anyway, he was relieved honestly. And if he just remembered he needed to take his own helmet off, that was no one’s business but his own.

“You really don’t know?”

Now Neil could be annoyed. It was clar from the look on Kevin’s face he didn’t suspect a thing. Maybe he could try to sell him the bridge now, but either way he could afford some false ire now.

“No.” The word was sharp and stubborn in a way that contradicted his previous show of floundery, but it felt real on his lips. Still, there was no reason to go off on Kevin, not now, best to stay under the radar as he always had. He shrugged, imagining taking a file to his edges, the rough grating sound resulting in something smooth, pleasant. “No, I don’t really follow the professional stuff.” Of all the lies Neil had told in his ten and eight years, that was somehow the biggest.

Kevin actually seemed to calm down at this, “I’m a striker for Palmetto State University,” He paused after that. Of course the words felt foreign, until recently he’d been a Raven working under the founder of Exy himself. Neil knew from experience his face would give nothing away. He was gald for that, to be honest, he was surprised Kevin hadn’t said his name, maybe he to was secretly hoping for some anonymity. Kevin cleared his throat, “the Foxes.”

Neil nodded, not sure where this was going. Did Kevin think he was dumb? Well, he hadn’t exactly given him a reason not to think so.

“Why haven’t you tried out?!” The words are sudden, an explosion of confusion, like it was the strangest thing in the world, or at least Kevin’s expression would have made anyone think so.

“What?” This time, his confusion wasn’t a lie.

“You go to Palmetto, right?”

It was then that Neil looked down at himself. Underneath his Exites uniform vest, he wore a t-shirt in Palmetto’s ostentatious orange. He lived by saving money and blending in, before now he would’ve never chosen such a colour, but in a university town he blended right in, and this was one of his newest shirts, so even the cheap rough cotton was a nice change. 

In fact, he hadn’t even looked at what it said really, it had come from some charity event and a girl with dyed rainbow tips had been so sweet when handing them out that he couldn’t say no, so he’d dropped a five into the collection box (for an orphanage, maybe?) and taken a medium and been grateful. The benefit of a huge sports university like Palmetto was that there was always some event or another with free swag.

Shit. he’d taken too long to answer. “Yeah. What of it?” Was that too snappy? But why wouldn’t Levin just go already? He could have checked out two minutes ago but here he was falunting Neil’s dream in front of him like a matador in a bullring. He ouldn’t help it, of course, being Mr. Exy himself but…

“So, why haven’t you tried out for the team?”

Neil was tempted to ask, “What team?” but selfishly didn’t want Kevin’s opinion of his intellect to stoop any lower, so he said, “I’m not a sports guy.” It’s true, he was an applied mathematics major. “And my schedule is already way to full for anything else.” Also true. “I want to graduate as quickly as possible,” Painfully true. “I don’t have time for any of that useless stuff, this is just what I do for extra cash.” Three gut-wrenching truths and two, terrible, terrible lies.

The words hurt. The honesty of revealing his crunched graduation schedule and the insult of Exy. But he had to do something to get Kevin out of here before he recognised him, before Neil’s dreams could settle too deep into his bones. He’d worked so hard to force them down, to scrub them out, to burn them away alongside his mother’s blood.

He heard someone suck in a sharp breath, as if bracing for something, and turned to Kevin’s group. “Sorry.” but it didn’t sound at all like he meant it.

He pushed as much boredom as he could into his tone and made sure to get a head start towards the register as he asked, “Are you ready to check out now?” 

In his periphery, Kevin still hadn’t moved. “But- but you have talent!”

“Thank you. Will you be paying in cash or credit?” The dead-pan came easily after so many years.

One of the blonds began to howl with laughter that sounded slightly inhuman. Neil ignored him, instead preparing the point-of-sales device. “Can I get a name for the transaction? If you haven’t got an account, I can start one for you. I’ll just need a mobile number or email.”

The howling got louder. What sound did foxes make, again?

“But you have to! You can’t just sit on talent like that!”

“Oh sure you can. I do.” the blond chimed in through his laughter. The reassurance would have been nice if the laughter and arrogance weren’t a bit unsettling.

“Not. Fucking. Now, Minyard. I’ll deal with you later.” Kevin’s voice was a growl, but he didn’t even look at the blond. 

Minyard, or rather Minyards, plural. The twins: 05 and 03. Andrew or Aaron, Neil wondered vaguely. Who was he kidding? It had to be Andrew. His behaviour was the reason the Foxes got so much coverage last year. Neil knows he shouldn’t look at the brunet (who must be Nicky Hemmick), if he looks he’ll only be darwin into this conversation.

“Can you bring me the racquet, I don’t have the product ID memorised so I’ll have to scan the sticker.” Neil asked innocently, holding his hand out to Kevin who’d finally come off the court.

“Well, give him the damn racquet, Day, since he asked so nicely.” Andrew was laughing again, or still.

Kevin did. Neil was surprised. But when he got to the register he reached over the counter and grabbed an old recite and a pen and started scribbling before Neil could stop him. 

“Here.” he shoved the paper towards Neil, “the dates and locations for the try-out. I’ll confirm it with the coach tonight.”

What? Wh- 

Neil begged himself not to agree right then and there. Oh, he needed a cigarette, just to remind him, to remind him why he-

He let the paper fall hen pushed it cooly back across the counter, “That’s very generous of you, but no thank you.”

Kevin pressed on, sounding distressed now. “Why?”

“I already told you my reasons. Now may I get a name for the transaction, or an account number if you have one. I’d be happy to start one if you don’t, but keep in mind we’re about to close. Unless you’re out of here with this by nine pm, you’ll have to come back tomorrow, I don’t care who you are, that’s the manager’s rule, not mine.” He crossed his arms, suddenly feeling childish. But, it was necessary, saying yes would feel so good, too good, and would only get him dragged back to the very man he’d be trying to escape for so long. “And I’ve got homework.” He added, a bit petulantly.

Kevin opened his mouth again, but was stopped when the brunet stepped up, placing a hand right over his face and smoothly taking the racquet. He placed the racquet across the counter with a curtsy that seemed more than a little sarcastic, “I’m so sorry about him, he was born with a racquet up his ass. The account should be under Wymack, that’s W-Y-M-A-C-K, first name David and we’ll be using credit.” When Neil finished entering the racquet’s information, he looked between the two men, before deciding it would be faster to give the form to the brunet.

The brunet gave him a smile that seemed just a bit too friendly and began to fill the form with a bright orange pen he’d pulled from behind his ear. He frowned when Neil didn’t seem impressed with the trick. It was only because his mother had spilt all the secrets of sleight of hand to him years ago. 

Thankfully the brunet was quick, when the information regarding colour and design was entered, Neil gave him the thumbs up. “Thanks. I assume that will be all. May I get a name for the order, or just Wymack?”

And damn if it wasn;’t just a little satisfying to see a look of surprise cross Kevin’s face. Neil had told him he didn’t know, but he guessed it hadn’t quite sunk in.

“Day, Kevin.” the brunet supplied, placing his hand back over Kevin’s face pushing him away, back towards the blonds. Thank goodness. Maybe he could go to a game, just once, just to cheer this guy on. He could bring a big sign saying “Thanks for saving my life!” yeah, no.

Meanwhile, Andrew still had the look on his face like all of this was the funniest thing in the whole wide world.

“Okay. The other two should be here in a week, would you like a box or bag for this one?”

“Nah, save the turtles and all, thanks though.”

Neil almost laughed at that, almost. Thankfully he kept it in, or Kevin might have started talking again. And, it was almost nine. He really did have homework.

The group left as loudly as they came, all making fun of Kevin. And when they were clearly out of earshot, Neil laughed harder than he had in as long as he could remember, and when the laughter became coughing and then the acrid remains of tears he could no longer cry, he locked up and went back to the dorms.

He was alone on the bus, which was good. At night, the drivers drove faster than they probably should, so he made great time, and the jolt of every pothole kept him from thinking, imagining where he might be if he’d taken that paper. The group had left it there. He’d wanted to throw it away, so desperate, but like the miserable bastard he was, he pocketed it, just so later, when his luck inevitably ran out and he was being dragged towards a painful death he could remind himself that Kevin Day had wanted him, even if it wasn’t really him.

Thumbing the paper in the pocket of his ratty jeans as he climbed the steps to his dorm made him realise he had less dignity than Kevin. Of course he did, he’d killed men. And he would have begged the exact same way if he’d been in Kevin’s place, everything and anything for the game. It wasn’t even a question.

At midnight, there was a knock on his door. His roommate didn’t stir, of course not, it was Friday night, so the man was probably near black-out drunk. In fact, Neil was surprised he came back so early. A power nap before hitting the club in an hour or two maybe? This must be his friends coming to collect him. 

Eye-roll at the ready, Neil opened the door. It wasn’t his roommate’s friends. Neil rolled his eyes anyway.

“Why are you here?” was pointless.

“You found my room number? Stalker. Leave or I’m calling campus police.”

“No, you won’t.” the blond frome earlier, Andrew stepped out from behind Kevin. Neil hadn’t noticed him, he was so short.

“And why not?” Neil was already shutting the door.

Andrew jammed a racquet against the frame, preventing it from closing all the way. “Because you don’t want shit to do with pigs, I can tell.”

“Campus police hardly count.”

“No, they’ve got the real deal now, after Kevin’s transfer and all.”

Right, of course. Raven’s fans hadn’t been happy about the ordeal, nor had they been kind and theyw eren’t subtle about either. He’d heard rumours of the vandalism whispered in the corridors.

Dammit, why did this guy know exactly what to say. Did- Did Kevin recognise him? Was he sitting in the car thinking, and then boom, he made the connection? Had the dye and contacts ever been enough? Or was Neil just deluding himself? Did Kevin bring Andrew here as muscle to knock him out? He hadn’t seen what car they were driving, but it must have been roomy to fit the four of them. They’d probably already called his father-

There was a fire escape just across the room behind him. Neil bolted. For once, he was too slow. Andrew shoved the racquet through the door, opening it wide and sending Neil sprawling. He lay, frozen on the floor, awaiting doom.

He grit his teeth, “I won’t go.”

Confusingly, Andrew stepped away, back towards the door, and took a place by Kevin in the doorway. As he went, he sighed theatrically. “Jesus, fucking christ, Josten -yeah we got your name from the lady too- what the hell did stickball do to —Fuck you!" he turned back to Neil, "Not you- no, no, actually you too.” Andrew bent over, clutching his ribs.

Kevin had taken the racquet and shoved it into Andrew’s side to shut him up. Neil squirmed upright in time to see the glint of a knife at Kevin’s throat.

“I have ears, fuckwad.”

“And yet you never use them.”

The blade moved upwards, “Would you like to never use yours again?”

Kevin glared, but Neil guessed that was some understanding between them he wasn’t seeing because he shoved Andrew away like he wasn’t about to get the double Van Goh. No ears, one hand, they’d have to call him Number One then.

He walked towards Neil. Neil tensed. Fuck Exites’ metal detectors because no he had no weapon.

But Kevin just said, “Please.”

Please?

Oh yes, please go back to your father and get chopped up, just for me. Pretty please with a cherry on top. 

“Go fuck yourself.” Neil Josten wouldn’t have said that, wouldn’t have started a confrontation, but if he was going abc to Baltimore, he wasn’t going back without a fight.

Kevin groaned. “Great there’s two of you.”

What? Was he seeing double? Was he drunk?

“Andrew’s just like this you know, join and maybe you can find a friend.” Kevin turned to Andrew for backup. Andrew didn’t even acknowledge him, didn’t want to grace the plea with an answer.

“What?”

“Play Exy for the Foxes You have to,”

Neil tried to say he didn’t have to do a single damned thin for anyone, tried to ask what this had to do with anything. Was this some sort of deal with his father? Do well here, then make him money playing Pro-Exy and Neil could live in peace? But Kevin didn’t let him get a word in.

“I can’t watch your talent go to waste like this. It hurts! Don’t you know what you could be? Don’t you want it? You should. You should want it like air to breathe. You could be Court for god’s sake!-” 

This went on for so long, that Neil stopped listening (he couldn’t, it hurt to much, it felt too good) and instead wondered if his roommate wasn’t really dead. Then he, Kevin Day, actually dropped to his knees and begged. Granted, Neil was still on the floor, but…

When Kevin finally took a breath, curse that athletic stamina, Neil stood up. It was so quick he was a bit dizzy, and the room was lit up with spots for a moment. He regained his bearings quickly though when Kevin grabbed his legs, reminding him of his original purpose.

“Holy shit jackass, can you pretend to have some dignity??”

Kevin had no answer but, “I think he really wants you to play Exy with him.” Neil turned his head so fast it hurt. He’d forgotten Andrew was there. But he was, very, there, casually turning a lit lighter in his hands barely illuminating his cocked eyebrow and twisted grin.

It went against everything he lived by, it was everything he lived for. It was everything he’d given up long ago, it was everything he could still be. It would get Kevin to shut up.

But what really sold him… “Join. See how long you can keep his attention. You won’t have to stay long. I’ll be done with you by spring, but maybe he’ll keep you around till summer.” And Andrew stepped forward, yanked Kevin up and turned to go, “You still have our paper, don’t you?” The question dripped with faux pity.

Neil was at The Foxhole Court at 4:30 am the next morning.

(A/N: This was supposed to be crack, but it got kind of internal dialogue heavy. I’m sorry. Also it is a bit longer than I intended because I suck at one-shots. The ending got tricky, because I wasn’t too inspired on what to write for the actual dialogue bits of Kevin’s pleas, and I didn’t want to rehash too much of Neil’s thought process against joining, since we already know that, so if it sounds weird, that's why. I kinda feel like everyone was a bit out of character, but this is only my second AFTG fic, so… idk.)

[susiecarter]

please please please please say more about undercover with a mindwipe 👀👀👀👀👀👀 who gets mindwiped? is that part of the plan, did they expect that going in? "yours and mine" is one of my favorite favorite fics of all TIME, the idea of you revisiting that idea has me breaking out into a rabid anticipatory sweat

/o\ :D I am so very grateful for your enthusiasm, anon! (And so glad you enjoyed "yours and mine" so much, too! ;-;)

The biggest obstacle to undercover with a mindwipe is PRECISELY that I'm really struggling to decide how to answer those exact questions. :')))))) It's entirely possible that this will end up turning into a series of companion fics ... eventually, but even in that case, I need to decide which variation to write first, and it is SO. HARD.

Bruce got taken captive saving *waves hands* alien friendlies/civilians who got raided by some scary bad guy interstellar pirates, and gets sold off with the rest of said civilians as a slave, and Clark goes undercover as a buyer to rescue him—finds him, buys him, and THEN discovers he isn't just playing along with the scenario but has been mindwiped??? YES PLEASE. Clark stuck undercover, unable to tell Bruce the truth, and even if he DID tell Bruce the truth, Bruce probably would not believe it, with Bruce treating him as an adversary, wary of him all over again—and of course every excuse Clark has to try to insist on keeping Bruce close to him, safe, attending him personally, makes him seem like THE WORST, makes Bruce expect the worst from him! And BRUCE, Bruce would have such a difficult time figuring out wtf Overlord Kal's deal is, WHY he won't let Bruce out of his sight but also won't touch him, why Bruce's efforts to seem tame or even seduce him to get him to let his guard down aren't working, why he doesn't just do whatever it is he wants to do to Bruce—and there must be SOMETHING he wants to do to Bruce, the way he looks at Bruce all the time, the way he leans into it when Bruce touches him ... GOD, ANON, WHAT A GLORIOUS MESS THAT WOULD BE, and unraveling it all at the end would be the best part of all. :')

Clark agreed to go undercover as that rarest of commodities, a bonafide Kryptonian, to tempt some *waves hands* particularly picky and powerful crime lord into attending the auction for him so the Lanterns can nab them, but then something goes wrong, the bad guys are tipped off and the whole thing comes apart and Clark is suddenly gone, and Bruce INSISTS on posing as an equally reclusive buyer of equally refined tastes to look for him—only to find him, mindwiped, because somebody knew to stick some blue kryptonite into the mindwiping machine before running it on one of his kind??? ABSOLUTELY. This would be so agonizing, and I love everything about it—because Clark would feel SO ALONE, anon, Clark would be told his home planet was gone and there were no others of his kind, that he was alone in the universe, and he wouldn't know better than to believe it; he wouldn't know he had a completely different homeworld he loved and belonged to, he wouldn't know he had a mother and a team and people who loved him!!! ;-; And Bruce WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO TELL HIM OTHERWISE, not while they were still stuck navigating this scenario, not when it would be coming from THE PSYCHO WHO BOUGHT HIM. Clark would probably have been given to Bruce with kryptonite chained to him to keep him from murdering Bruce (perhaps intended as more of a display piece to show off, a Kryptonian, wow, amazing, than as a slave who would be doing actual labor), and he would NOT understand why Bruce trusted him enough to take any of it off him! Honestly, he would probably start to like Bruce pretty quickly, start to see Bruce managing to look like a bad guy without actually being a bad guy, and Bruce would have to hold him off (YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, YOU KNOW ME, YOU WON'T WANT THIS WHEN YOU REMEMBER ME BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T WANT IT BEFORE (according to me) &c &c) and it would be *clenches fists* G R E A T.

Bruce went undercover as a slave, with Clark as his master, deliberately for *handwaves* reasons, BUT THEN their ship gets attacked, and an energy weapon that would have melted Clark's brain if he were anyone other than Superman just wipes his memory instead—so he comes to after a direct shot to the head, on a spaceship, with his desperately solicitous personal slave bending over him trying to make sure he's okay? :DDDDD! He'd probably seem like he was just trying to stay in character at first, to Bruce ... but then it would gradually become apparent that something IS wrong with him, that he doesn't remember who they really are or what they're actually doing here. Does Bruce start trying to explain, except then they get interrupted and they're in the middle of a crisis situation anyway, so Bruce has to just roll with it for longer than he ever intended? MAYBE. And Clark, oh, man, Clark would really not like thinking this person is who he is, except he might very well believe that it was if he started looking up information about the Kryptonian Empire from back in the day, you know? And Bruce would have to try to find ways to stay close to HIM, ways that seemed believable to whoever was around them :') and would not convince Clark to like himself better, ouch. When Bruce finally DID get to tell him who they really are, it would seem almost too good to be true! ;-; And Clark would have to just hang onto that as best he could until they could get out the other side of it and the Lanterns could get his memories back for him!

OR Clark as the slave, Bruce as the master, and Bruce loses his memory—don't make me handwave anymore, just go with it :D because honestly this might be even worse; Clark would be upset to find himself owning a slave, but Bruce, Bruce might grimly believe that that really is the kind of person he is, ESPECIALLY if the slave is Clark, because the answer to "would I take the opportunity to own that man, to have him placed so thoroughly under my control, if someone offered it to me?" might very well feel like it's "yes". :')))))) And Clark would have a hell of a time convincing him otherwise—Clark as the amnesiac master would WANT to believe Bruce telling him this isn't who they really are, but Bruce would be like ... if you'd like to take advantage of your master losing his memory, you should probably come up with a less ridiculous lie than that. /o\ The cynicism of everything he's seeing around him would feel to him like it fit like a glove, and the only thing that WOULDN'T fit into the picture would be Clark's utter trust in him, Clark's certainty that Bruce isn't going to hurt him or mistreat him, Clark's conviction that Bruce is a good person—and if Bruce tried to free him and tell him to gtfo right before, you know, suicide-missioning his way through this space trafficking ring, Clark would, of course, refuse, save his ass, and get them both out of there! And Bruce would, with his memory back, insist on confessing that some part of him HAD wanted to own Clark, had almost, horribly, loved it—and Clark would get that that freaks Bruce out, but it doesn't freak Clark out. :D

And those are just it happening by accident! ALSO totally plausible, at least for the first two variations, that they'd know it was a possibility—and there is a FIFTH version where:

Bruce and Clark are going undercover as master and slave, deliberately, AND THEY'RE GOING TO GET TELEPATHICALLY SCANNED, which means they have to get mindwiped first—there can't be any hint of a trace of a memory in their heads about who they actually are, or it'll get noticed! So they strategize with the Lanterns first, both of them get deliberately wiped and then set up as their new selves and then sent in ... but there are certain inconsistencies planted in there that Bruce KNEW would catch their attention = they end up working out that there's something wrong here, that this situation they're in isn't quite what it seems, and/or that they need to investigate [a particular acquaintance or event], because their identities as master and slave may be giving them excuses to indulge certain deep-seated kinks they already had, but ultimately they're still the World's Greatest Detective and an amateur but dedicated investigative reporter, you know? :D And at the end, like, they're expecting to also get taken into custody by the Lanterns and probably separated, because there's no way to avoid incriminating themselves when they turn in [whoever else, what do you want from me], BUT INSTEAD everybody's grateful that the plan worked, that Bruce was right about what clues to put in their way so they'd start poking around even without their memories, and they're both safe! And the memory thing is an easy fix for a Lantern telepath, and Bruce and Clark have a whole lot to talk about. :'D

So, yeah. The "undercover with a mindwipe" premise is on the list because I'm deeply enamored of it and one or another of these is probably going to make it onto the AO3 eventually ... but I still have a lot of work to do to figure out exactly how I want it to go, or at the very least which one of these is going to make it out first! :'D I hope at least one of them appeals to you, though, and by all means feel free to let me know which is your favorite (no promises, but the more someone else is looking forward to something, the more I get invested in trying to finish it for them :D). ♥♥♥!

[gejo333]

A Misunderstanding

Father Miguel O’Hara x Mother Spider Reader

—> pt. 2

Summary: Your relationship with Miguel was doing amazing. But when you find out your pregnant Miguel begins to close himself off . You decide it’s best not to tell him and end things. But what happens when you see him again after five years and learns that he is a father?

There is a sensual scene, if you feel uncomfortable just scroll past it.

I was going to write it all in one post but I decided to do a part two. Part 2 will be posted tomorrow. I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed.

Hope you enjoy🤗

Wc: 3.2k

____________________________________________

A heavy breath leaves your lungs; sitting on a piece of rubble, you stare at the anomaly being taken away by another spider back to HQ. On a mission like this one, an anomaly of this low stature wouldn’t make you sweat. But for some reason, you had a hard time defeating it.

Peter B comes up to you, lending you a hand. You gladly take it rising from your makeshift seat. After walking through the portal back to HQ, Peter puts his hand on your shoulder, stopping you.

“Are you feeling alright, Y/n?” Peter looked concerned about your tired complexion.

“I’m fine. I must not have slept well last night. But thanks for checking in and for your help with the mission.”

“No problem. Are you reporting back to Miguel?”

“Yeah. I should tell him about the mission getting out of hand. I’ll see you around.” You wave goodbye before making your way to Miguel’s office. When reporting missions that didn’t go exactly to plan, spiders asked you to report to Miguel.

Before you began dating him 6 months ago, you still had a close relationship with him. Ever since he recruited you, he’s had a soft spot for you, never once getting mad with you.

Walking into his “lair,” as most spiders called it, you tried to shoot up a web to him, but your web shooter malfunctioned.

Miguel jumped down from the platform, walking towards you. His gaze crossed your entire body, checking to see if you were hurt.

“I heard the mission went a bit south.” Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against his chest. He lifted your chin and leaned down to kiss your lips lovingly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, lifting your toes to press deeper into the kiss. Breaking apart, you caress his cheek as he leans into your touch.

“Yeah, I needed to call backup. The anomaly was more to handle than I thought. I’m not sure why. I just don’t feel my best today.”

“How about we get some delicious empanadas near my apartment and watch a movie. How does that sound? We can leave right now if you want?” A smile graces his lips as he gazes at you with so much love waiting for your response. You smile back at him as your e/c meets his mahogany eyes. You were the only person to see his true eye color.

“That sounds perfect.”

Pressing a few buttons on his watch, Miguel opens the portal back to his universe. The two of you walk through, entering an ally a block away from Miguel’s place. Both of your suits dissolve underneath casual clothing hiding underneath.

The two of you walked into the little store that sold the best empanadas in all of Nueva York, as Miguel had told you multiple times.

“Miguel! Mi cliente favorito. Cómo te va?” An older woman walked around the counter, hugging Miguel, which he gladly accepted.

“Estoy bien. Y usted?” Miguel said as he led you fully into the store. You loved seeing this side of Miguel. He only revealed his true warm side when he was back in his world or alone with you on missions or at HQ.

“I’m doing good. Business is good. And who is this gorgeous woman by your side Miguel?” The woman looks at you with a bright smile. You look up at Miguel as he looks down at you with a smile.

“This is Y/n. My girlfriend.” Miguel’s response made the woman beam with joy as she hugged you.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Y/n. It’s so nice for Miguel to find such a nice woman as you. The usual order Miguel?” The woman returns behind the counter, grabs a box, and puts in empanadas.

“Sí, plus a few extra.”

“Of course!” She adds a few more before handing them to you. Miguel pays her before adding $500 to the tip jar. The woman looks astounded and takes the money out, trying to return it to him. He closes her hand, pushing gently back towards her.

“Miguel, this is too much.”

“Nonsense. You make the best empanadas in all of Nueva York.” The woman hugs Miguel again as tears brim her eyes.

“Thank you so much. You truly are a good man Miguel.”

“Until next time!” He waved goodbye before leading you out of the store.

Miguel opened the door, letting you go first before making your way to the kitchen, setting the empanadas down on the counter. Miguel places both arms at your sides, trapping you against the counter. You turn to face him, leaning back a bit against the counter. Hands run up his chest and wrap around his neck. You run your hands through his hair as he leans his back, enjoying the sensation of your hands through his hair.

He leaned down, lips centimeters from yours. His gaze goes to your lips, his eyes starving for your touch. You give him a quick kiss.

“Let’s choose something to watch.”

“Yeah.” Miguel calms down his breathing before letting you go. The two of you grab an empanada and head to the living room as you get comfy on the couch, putting a blanket over the both of you. You rest your head against him.

Almost halfway into the movie, your gaze is directed toward Miguel as he stares ahead. He shifts slightly, uncomfortable. Your gaze falls down to his lap, where a tent appears. Sliding a hand to his lap, you pull down his sweats, setting him free as you give him a handjob.

Miguel’s head leans back, a groan escaping his lips.

“Y/n” You continue your movements as you feel your hand getting covered in precum.

“You like that?” You lean towards him as you kiss his neck towards his lips, where he hungrily captures yours.

“I need more of you, mi vida.” He groaned before removing the blanket. He grabbed you by the waist, sitting you on his lap as he ripped your panties off, thrusting himself fully into your wet folds.

“Those were my favorite.” You moaned out. A pout was on your face before Miguel captured your lips.

“I’ll buy you all the new pairs you want,” Miguel whispered into your ear as he thrust his hips into you.

“Miggy!” Your moans grew louder as his pace quickened, sending you into euphoria.

You awake from your bed in a sweaty state, your breath uneven. Sitting up from your bed, you place your head against your knee as you calm your heart. Why that memory again? You’ve had that same memory plague your dreams for the past week.

Looking at your phone, it was 8 am. You get up from your bed and go to the room next to you. Opening the door, you walk up to the small race car bed. Leaning down, you brush the dark brown hair from your son’s face and press a kiss to his forehead.

You watch his eyes flutter open, his big brown eyes tiredly staring at you.

“Good morning.” You say, gazing at your five-year-old as he wakes up. He jumps into your arms as you pick him up.

“Are you excited for today? It’s your first day of kindergarten!”

“Yes!” His arms went up in excitement. You set him down as you grab the outfit you prepared for him today. After the both of you got dressed, you went to the kitchen to start breakfast.

“What would you like?”

“Pancakes! With chocolate chips!”

“How about pancakes with blueberries? Make it a bit healthier.” You suggest as you already begin making the batter.

“I love blueberries!” He cheered.

You place the small pancakes in front of him as you finish getting ready in your room. After you finish putting on your makeup, you see your son walk in with a face covered with syrup. You chuckle at the cute site as you get up and bring her to the bathroom to wipe her face and hands.

“Mommy, can you do my hair how I like it?”

“Of course!”

You set her on the bathroom counter as you brush his hair. You combed your fingers through his hair. You look at him through the mirror. Distinct brown hair and eyes. Warm honey-toned skin. He was the spitting image of his father.

It’s been almost six years since you last saw him. Ever since that fateful day, you wonder if you made the right decision. But he made it clear to you.

“Mommy?” You’re brought out of your thoughts.

“Sorry, sweetie.” You finish the combing his hair. You grab your purse and his brand-new fire truck backpack. Grabbing his hand, you walk out the door and towards the school.

Arriving at the school, you walk through the front doors to his classroom. You see the other 5-year-olds entering the classroom or clinging to their parents. Arriving at the door, you see the teacher come out.

“Hi! My name is Ms. Williams. And who might this be?”

“This is Mateo (L/n). Say hi, Mateo.” You say to your son, who clings to you. Hiding his face behind your leg.

“Hi.” Mateo slowly waves to the teacher. Ms. Williams holds out her hand toward Mateo. Mateo looks up to you as you smile.

“It’s ok, Mateo. Go make some friends. Mommy will be here to pick you up in a few hours.”

“Promise?” He holds his pinky out to you, which you hook with yours.

“Promise.” Mateo smiles at you before taking his teacher’s hand, walking him into the room. He turned to wave goodbye before disappearing into the room.

A tear escapes you as you wipe it away. You couldn’t believe he was already 5. It went by so fast.

After drying your tears, you make it back to your apartment. Sitting at your desk in your bedroom, you stare at the drafted article before you. Since you quit Spider Society, you got your job back as a journalist.

Your mind drifts off from the work before you.

Sitting on the edge of the toilet seat, you stare down at the small object in your hands.

Two lines. These two lines answer the question that was in the back of your mind all day.

You were pregnant. Your body jumps up when you hear someone walk into the bathroom. Unlocking the door to the stall, you quickly wash your hands and clean off the stick before hiding it in a secret pocket of your spider suit.

A beep from your watch tells you to go to Miguel’s office. Miguel… what would he think? You rush out of the bathroom and towards his office.

Ben Reilly and Jess are talking with Miguel about a mission. Standing next to Miguel as he continues talking. However, everything he said was unheard as your thoughts raced.

“Y/n?” You came back to reality as Miguel placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Yep! Understood.” You say, hoping he didn’t notice you drifting off into space. Miguel dismisses Ben and Jess as he turns to face you.

“Is everything ok?” His eyes grew concerned as you weren’t your usual happy self. You decided not to tell him yet. You were too nervous to tell him. Since movie night, Miguel has been nonstop busy and stressed from work. You didn’t feel you should stress him out more with your news.

And it’s only been 6 months since you started dating. You didn’t know if he wanted children, especially after what happened to his daughter.

“Yeah! I’m good. Just tired. So my mind is a bit off.”

“How about you go home and rest. I’ll do the mission with Jess and Ben.”

“It’s ok. I can still go on the mission.” You try to reason with him.

“No mi amor. Go home and rest. I don’t want you getting hurt on the mission if you’re tired.” You decided to listen to him as he would not change his mind.

“Ok, fine. See you later tonight.” You give him a kiss before saying goodbye.

…

“You’re 2 months pregnant.”

The doctor’s words shocked you. You didn’t think you were that far along. It’s only been two weeks since you found out you were pregnant.

After leaving the doctor’s office, you head back to HQ. Going to the doctor at HQ was free, but you knew word would get back to Miguel, as everyone knew you two were in a relationship.

Spider HQ felt off today as barely anyone was here. You go to Miguel’s office but find all the lights turned off except one of his monitors.

Miguel sat in his chair, his head resting in his hand. He looked so sad. You never had seen him this way before.

“Miguel?” You walk closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. You look at the monitor. It was a video of him and his daughter.

“Y/n? I thought you weren’t coming in today.”

“I wasn’t. But I’ve barely seen you for the past two weeks. I wanted to just check in on you.” He moved his chair to face you. As he opens his arms to you, you sit in his lap. Wrapping his arms tight around you, he nestled his head in your neck. You comb your fingers through his hair to help comfort him.

“Today’s her birthday.” He mumbled against your skin. His words clenched at your heart.

“Miguel…” You lifted his chin to look at you as you softly caressed his cheek. He leans into your hand, looking at you with red eyes. Not his normal ruby red, but red from tears.

“She would have been ten this year.” A tear slipped from his eye, trailing down his cheek, which you gently wiped away. You never have seen him in such a vulnerable state before. It made your heart break seeing him like this.

Would it be ok to tell him now about the pregnancy? To try and lift his spirits? Maybe it was too sudden. It was Gabriella’s birthday, after all.

“The thought of having another child is unbearable. I couldn’t handle the pain again if something happened.”

His words shattered you. He didn’t want to have more kids. You placed a hand on your stomach. It would be pointless to tell him. He didn’t want to be a father again.

His watch suddenly beeped, indicating that there was an anomaly he needed to deal with.

“Maybe you should let someone else do the mission.” You got up from his lap as he continued to sit in the chair.

“No, I’ll do it. He stands from his chair as he opens the portal. Before he leaves, you gently grab his arm.

“I can go with you.” He smiles at you as he brushes some of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m going to do this one myself, Hermosa.”

“Oh, ok. Be safe.” You say before he walks into the portal.

…

You gaze at the surroundings of HQ, seeing various spiders interacting with one another. Ever since Gabriella’s birthday, you’ve barely seen Miguel. He buried himself in work. You tried several times to see him, but he was so distant from you that you decided to stop visiting him.

That was a month ago. Now 3 months pregnant, you have a baby bump, so when you came into HQ today, you decided to wear casual clothes that hid your bump. For what you’re about to do. You didn’t want anyone to know, especially Miguel.

Anxiety blossomed at the bottom of your stomach as you walked to his office. Were you being selfish? Maybe you should wait until he’s better. But time would run out in 6 months, and you didn’t want to face the truth of him rejecting his child. You wouldn’t be able to bear it.

You reach his office, where he talks to Peter B. and Jess about past missions. The three turn when they notice your presence.

“Y/n! It’s been so long! You’ve barely been to HQ this past month!” Said Peter as he went to hug you. You quickly give him a side hug so he wouldn’t find out your little secret. Peter gave you a confused look at your gesture but decided to ignore it.

Your gaze shifts to Miguel as he looks back at you. He’s barely seen you this month. Longer even.

“Jess, Peter. Is it ok if I talk privately with Miguel for a few minutes?” Your serious tone makes the two briefly look at Miguel and back at you before leaving his office.

Miguel walks up to you and places his hands around your waist.

“Is everything alright, cariño?” His gaze turned serious when you didn’t wrap your arms around him like you used to. Bile felt like it was threatening to come out of your throat. Not from the pregnancy. But what you were dreading telling him the past few days.

“I’m quitting Spider Society.” His eyes widened slightly before worry and confusion replaced them.

“What for?”

“Other life commitments need my attention back in my universe.”

“Like what?” He pushed you to tell him.

“Just other things.” You can see hurt in his eyes by your answer.

“You don’t have to quit. You can take a break if you need it.” He suggested.

“No, I’m sure of my decision.”

“Fine. But we’ll talk about it later. I don’t think you should quit. You’re an amazing Spiderwoman. I’ll come over after work with some food.” He wasn’t happy about your answer, but he let it slide.

“Miguel…” His heart dropped when you moved out of his arms.

“I have loved every second we’ve spent together…”

“Y/n?” You held up your hand to stop him from talking to let you finish. Tears began to threaten to spill out.

“But our lives are starting to go in different directions. I think we should stop seeing each other.” Tears spilled down your cheeks as you saw how hurt he looked. You felt terrible.

“Mi amor…” He tries to caress your cheek, but you move your face away, breaking him further.

“It’s for the best, Miguel. I hope you find someone who brings you happiness and love.” You turn away from him. But he grabs you by the arm and pulls you into an embrace. He kisses gently up your neck.

“You brought me that. I’ve never been happier in my life when I’m with you. Please don’t leave me.”

You wanted to melt into his arms and forget everything you said. But you couldn’t let your guard down. Removing his arms from your waist, you walk away from him. You turn to look at him one more time.

“Goodbye, Miguel.”

Tears fall onto your computer as you relive those memories. Even after five years, the look in his eyes broke you. Your heart still aches for him. There were times when you thought of reaching out. But you remembered he never came to your universe to fight for you both. To say he wouldn’t accept you breaking up with him.

You knew you told him it was over. But you still hoped he would run after you. Looking at the time on your computer, you realize you need to pick up Mateo.

You wipe your tears before grabbing your wallet, phone, and keys. As you were about to open the door, you heard a knock. Your spider-sense was going off, which you didn’t know why.

Slowly you open the door. The air from your lungs briefly left you as you dropped everything in your hand.

“Miguel?”

____________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed it.🥰

[flowerakatsuka]

.*🍀 KUROKARA LORE [ 01 ] — rainy day reunion. 🌹*.

after putting off finishing the art and writing for this post, i finally dump the first major bit of kurokara lore on ya'll — their " first " meeting! i also wanted to include the song i imagine being the bgm for this lore event so please enjoy while you read the post. :3c

SO, i imagine this taking place during the first half of season 2 ( probably around episode 5 since rainy season is during summer in japan. )

their meeting happens one day in june, when karamatsu had decided to make the most of the ( at the time ) sunny weather and gallivant around akatsuka. the previous night hadn’t been the best — with osomatsu eating the pudding he had saved for later, being forced to buy the rest of his brothers snacks when he went to go replace it, and then getting splashed by a car going through a rain puddle on the way back from the konbini. but it was a new day, surely it will be kinder to him with how beautiful the weather was!

well, it seemed like kara’s bad luck from the previous day had decided to linger. everything he had decided to do to enjoy himself that day was not going in his favor ; totoko had already left home to go on a date when he tried to visit, catching only tiny cans and broken sunglasses at the fishing hole, the last croquette being sold to the previous customer. he even tripped and fell in front of the girls he was attempting to flirt with. at this point, he was really starting to wonder if he was cursed or something, but quickly picked himself back up and tried to reassure himself. there was no way this day could get worse, after all.

yeah, it definitely could.

meanwhile, kuroba had just managed to bring in the last of the store’s outside decorations before the rain really started to come down. thankfully, they were lucky enough to spot the accumulating storm clouds early and act accordingly. still, it was strange how suddenly it started raining when there wasn’t anything about it in the weather report that morning. sure, it was rainy season, but the rain really came out of nowhere. before they could get too lost in their pondering about weird weather patterns, they spotted someone walking through the ongoing downpour with nothing to protect them from the rain.

karamatsu was trudging through the rain on his way back home, having already resigned himself to whatever divine punishment he had brought on. it took him a moment to notice the shadow that had overtaken him and blocked the rain, only really coming to when a concerned voice called out to him.

kuroba handed him a towel to draw himself off with and suggested he wait out the rain in their shop ; walking around in rain like that wouldn’t be doing himself any favors, after all. taking them up on their offer, they let karamatsu in and excused themself into the back for a moment. while wandering around the shop, he wondered why he hadn’t remembered there was another flower shop in akatsuka... Until he recognized the shop’s name : yotsubana florals.

he definitely remembered passing by there in the past and being greeted by the kind granny that ran it before. kuroba overheard him wondering aloud if they had sold the shop and cleared some things up for him. they’re actually the previous owners’ grandchild, having taken over the store’s ownership and daily operations not too long ago after their grandmother’s passing and grandfather’s ( forced ) retirement. with things clarified, they directed karamatsu to a spot in the shop where he could relax while he waits out the rain and handed him a cup of tea to help warm him up.

much to his delight, it ended up being his favorite.

kuroba struck up a conversation with karamatsu while they continued their work and the two hit it off pretty quickly. their chat bounced from topic to topic and, in spite of him lulling back into his usual casanova shtick, they both seemed to have plenty of fun talking with each other. so much so that karamatsu hadn’t realized how much time had passed when he noticed that the rain was starting to let up.

he decided that it’d be best for him to head out despite there still being light rain, which kuroba had some objections to.

after being told to be careful and sent off with a wave goodbye, karamatsu started to head back home. he couldn’t help but wonder if his luck was starting to turn around while looking at the clover-patterned umbrella.

a week or two passes after that and it’s rained a few more times since then. unfortunately for kuroba, their umbrella still hadn’t been returned yet. it was a shame, they’ve had that umbrella for a long time, ( and they were being genuine when they said they’d like to chat more with the person they helped, ) but there wasn’t much that could be done about it. at least, there was a bit of reprieve from the frequent rain that day.

just as they had finally resigned themself to getting a new umbrella, the shop’s door opened with a jingle and a familiar face entered with much more bravado than he had before. karamatsu was ready to put on the best casanova act he’s got, this could be the first beautiful chapter of his own sweeping love story, after all. he explained that a mild fever had kept him from coming back sooner, but assured kuroba that it wasn’t a result of the other day by going “ it seems not everyone shares your stunning kindness, “ and leaves it at that. ( really, he tried seeing if he could get something like his meeting with kuroba to happen again by standing out in the rain with. obviously poor results. )

while he came to return kuroba’s umbrella, he also hoped to return the kindness of his ✨ rainy day savior ✨ and, well, what’s a better way to show that than by showing patronage.

yeah, he really didn’t think that all the way through. karamatsu quickly perks back up when they tell him they were just teasing and would be happy to make up a bouquet for him, especially if he’s willing to stay and chat…

AND THAT’S ALL I’VE GOT! sorry that this took me forever to finish, so many different things kept on getting in the way. but i’m really happy to have some more kurokara lore out now, i’m hoping i can get some more out soon. >;3c

[obs3ssedd]

T H E • D E A L - to be decided.

b a c k r o u n d :- Y/N L/N, 23, lives a tough life, in a rough part of Tokyo, Japan. you’re broke, hustling weed to keep your bills paid while working a dead-end shitty job to keep your ass from getting arrested, and to make some extra cash. you keep a pretty low profile, smart enough to stay off the radar but desperate enough to take risks if it has to come that way. you’re a tough cookie to crack, able to talk yourself out of trouble, all together keeping your life on track and out of trouble. life is stable enough, not the best, but not a complete disaster.

s u m m a r y :- living a quiet, broke, but stable life, I kept my hustle lowkey working a dead-end job by day and selling weed under the radar by night. It wasn’t much, but it kept me afloat, and alive. everything changed the day I sold to the wrong person at the wrong time. or so I thought?.

this one risky deal introduced me to him a street racer with a dangerous charm and connections that ran deeper than I ever expected. what started as a simple exchange turned into a wild ride through the underground world of fast cars, fast money, and even faster consequences. the deeper I got, the harder it was to tell if I was in too deep. starting business with a guy I meant in a dark alleyway, changed my life for the better and the worse. would you think I regret selling to this guy? guess you gotta find out.

a / n ; hey ya'll, so l have been on a little haitus because i've been having a lot of writers block and no time to write at all, BUTTTT good news issss. I have been thinking about writing an actual story instead of head cannons/ short stories, but I am in a slight road block...l don't know WHO to make this special story for 😬 SO I am going to let you guys decide 😉 I am going to write multiple characters who I think would fit this story the best, and let you guys vote who you guys want!!

PS!! this story will only be on my wattpad, @ 0bs3sessdd so make sure you check it out :3

to give it enough time, i'll give the poll a week before starting the first chapter!!

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